Yesterday my friend and I were on a multi-event outing. These outings are usually comprised of a number of events or activities; yesterday a visit to special exhibit at the National Gallery, dinner, a walk, gelato, and a concert on the Mall. More than that, they are an opportunity to talk and explore thoughts.
At one point in the conversation, we were talking about the winning couple in this week's finals on Dancing with the Stars (DWTS). She is not a dancer, and I am, so I attempted to explain what I thought allowed the couple to win. The professional and leader is a long-time DWTS professional. He is an extraordinary dancer, who has made it to the finals or semi-finals several times over the years, but just never quite put together the championship. I felt that what had cost him in the past was his arrogance: the dance had always about him in the past. He was truly obnoxious to everyone--the judges, the audience, and not least, whoever his current partner was.
This time, I said, it seemed to me that he surrendered to the partnership. Rather than being all about him this time, the goal had been what they created together. AND, what they created together was truly remarkable. Granted, he had an extraordinary partner, but I still don't think it would have happened if he hadn't allowed the partnership be the most important.
Today I meditated on opening my heart. I do so frequently, but I seem to do so more often in the spring. This year spring has come late, and this has been one of our first really springy weekends. I long to have someone to share it with, and yet as I pondered on opening my heart today, I questioned whether I even know how. Then it occurred to me that being in partnership with someone was about surrendering to the partnership.
I recalled a country song popular more than a decade ago in which the female vocalist sings that she doesn't know why they call it "falling" in love because she experiences it more like rockets in the sky. Hmmm! Then I felt myself in a meditative free fall. What would it be like to jump off a cliff and be in a free fall, and then suddenly I felt like I was shooting high in the sky. I had almost forgotten that sensation. Yet, I think that is what it is like to surrender to a partnership. Giving myself to something that is greater.
My problem in the past has been that I have given up myself and then found myself struggling to maintain who I am. I've felt like, if I let go of who I thought I was when I was alone, it would be stolen by the other. Rather, I think when it works in love, after the free fall of letting go to the limitations of my ego comes the rockets. Magic is created much as America watched magic on their television screens in the DWTS final this week. Only by letting go of the ego are we able to ascend to something much greater.
.
Romantic partnerships aren't the only places that we must surrender to partnership can make magic happen. I think of a work team on which I serve now, which is full of egos, struggling to dominate. A lot of talent on that team would create an awesome team if we would all decide the partnership was more important than our individual egos, but sadly, I don't see it happening. Another work team that I am on has done the surrender to the partnership. We truly are creating wonderful work with no one's name on it: that work reflects the building of partnership.
Today, as I reflected on surrendering to partnership, I couldn't help but think about the partnership I could have with God, if, as the trite expression goes, I would just let go and let God. The fallacy in that expression is that it implies either God or me are driving; I don't think that is how partnership with God works. Our combined intention to the partnership is what allows magic. I know I have been there, often for long periods--most often when I write. Like my partnerships of love with real human partners that have contracted into my ego, so has my partnership of love with God. I start trying to figure out what I need to do and forget to just listen.
Can I remember how to allow myself to be in free fall, not knowing what is next or what the outcome will be? Could I allow myself to just know that the partnership is what is really important? What would it take for me to know that what is less important than why because the why is fostering love on earth? Why wouldn't I want to surrender myself to that?
I am a dancer who has often written about the relationship with God being like a good dance partnership. God leads, and we follow. But, the follower has to know his/her part. The part I've left out is to surrender to the partnership while doing so.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Monday, May 19, 2014
Listening to Their Wisdom
I have noticed over the years that coaching clients often "present" to me issues which I need to look at in my own life. When I find myself having similar conversations, especially in back-to-back sessions, I figure I should pay attention myself. That happened today. Interestingly enough, I've been involved in several conversations over the last two weeks when the same topic bubbled up. Something similar came up on a class I am taking last night. The Universe is sending people into my life to help me learn. In their answers, I find wisdom.
Each of these clients led me to draw a model for further exploration--the same model. The concept is that we have three levels of "being" in our lives. A colleague of mine draws it with three concentric circles. The innermost is "DNA." That part of us is what it is, and we aren't likely to change it. My brown eyes are not going to become blue because I choose that. The next circle is labeled "Personality," and it is likely to change little. The bigger outside circle is entitled, "Behavior." Now "behavior" is something we can work with.
I think about the difference between personality and behavior as being like an actor or an actress, who plays a role. The role doesn't change the actor's personality, but they behave in the play or movie in a way that can be contrary to their natural personality. Our jobs often require us to behave in ways that are contrary to our natural personality. For instance, I am a strong introvert, who has a job that requires me to extravert about 75% of the time. It is exhausting, but I can and have done it...for decades.
So it is that conversations with two coaching clients today explored their needs to choose behaviors that are not naturally easy to them in order be more effective leaders. As I helped them discover how they could allow themselves to slip into a role, it didn't seem all that difficult. We were able to identify times in their lives during which they'd learned a new role that had by now become so familiar to them that they could hardly remember what it was like before they chose it.
This ability to transcend who we might naturally be and step into a much bigger role opens countless doors. I call it leadership, but maybe it is "just" conscious living. The ability in a moment to be conscious of who we are, what our tendencies are, the stories we've told ourselves about what we can and can't do, and then to choose the behavior we want brings intention to life in our lives. We step into the life that we would have rather than the life we inherited. Consciousness, intention, and action.
I used to struggle with this a bit. "If we choose to act contrary to who we are, is that 'authentic?' I have wondered. But after much reflection, I believe it is much more authentic. If we just act with what comes naturally, we are doing so without thought. Reflecting--even soul-searching--and then choosing what is in integrity with who we choose to be: that is authentic.
I would like to say that I do that all the time. I know there have been times when I acted that authenticity much more than I do now. The pace of my life has lulled me into this trancelike state--the sleeping state that men call waking--where I forget to remember that above all else, we have free will. I can choose who I will become by the behaviors I demonstrate in large and small ways...every day, every hour, every minute.
As I listened to the wisdom spill across my clients' lips, I knew that on some level they were advising me. Wake up and become who you choose to be!
Each of these clients led me to draw a model for further exploration--the same model. The concept is that we have three levels of "being" in our lives. A colleague of mine draws it with three concentric circles. The innermost is "DNA." That part of us is what it is, and we aren't likely to change it. My brown eyes are not going to become blue because I choose that. The next circle is labeled "Personality," and it is likely to change little. The bigger outside circle is entitled, "Behavior." Now "behavior" is something we can work with.
I think about the difference between personality and behavior as being like an actor or an actress, who plays a role. The role doesn't change the actor's personality, but they behave in the play or movie in a way that can be contrary to their natural personality. Our jobs often require us to behave in ways that are contrary to our natural personality. For instance, I am a strong introvert, who has a job that requires me to extravert about 75% of the time. It is exhausting, but I can and have done it...for decades.
So it is that conversations with two coaching clients today explored their needs to choose behaviors that are not naturally easy to them in order be more effective leaders. As I helped them discover how they could allow themselves to slip into a role, it didn't seem all that difficult. We were able to identify times in their lives during which they'd learned a new role that had by now become so familiar to them that they could hardly remember what it was like before they chose it.
This ability to transcend who we might naturally be and step into a much bigger role opens countless doors. I call it leadership, but maybe it is "just" conscious living. The ability in a moment to be conscious of who we are, what our tendencies are, the stories we've told ourselves about what we can and can't do, and then to choose the behavior we want brings intention to life in our lives. We step into the life that we would have rather than the life we inherited. Consciousness, intention, and action.
I used to struggle with this a bit. "If we choose to act contrary to who we are, is that 'authentic?' I have wondered. But after much reflection, I believe it is much more authentic. If we just act with what comes naturally, we are doing so without thought. Reflecting--even soul-searching--and then choosing what is in integrity with who we choose to be: that is authentic.
I would like to say that I do that all the time. I know there have been times when I acted that authenticity much more than I do now. The pace of my life has lulled me into this trancelike state--the sleeping state that men call waking--where I forget to remember that above all else, we have free will. I can choose who I will become by the behaviors I demonstrate in large and small ways...every day, every hour, every minute.
As I listened to the wisdom spill across my clients' lips, I knew that on some level they were advising me. Wake up and become who you choose to be!
 |
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Raise a Joyful Noise
I enjoy my church very much, and I love the sermons that my pastor delivers. They reflect considerable soul searching and invite us to share an exploration rather than telling us what to do. I also like the commitment to social justice which reflects a dedication to the principles that we say we believe. Many are attracted to our church by the music program. Me? Not so much. The music is exquisitely performed; to me, it is too formal, 18th Century, and...it would be nice if more of it were English. It feels stiff and stodgy.
Today was the day that representatives from the school in South Africa that our congregation helps sponsor were present, and to honor the occasion, the music director had a festival of South African music. Several musicians played traditional South African instruments. It was clear in the first hymn today's music was going to be more spirited than usual. Even the choir that usually feels stiff and stodgy reflected so.
I kept thinking of Psalm 98:4: "Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise." As I looked around the congregation, I noticed bodies swaying and smiles on faces. This is joyful noise.
The closing hymn required us to sing the African words. Many of us were struggling with the pronunciations, when someone started clapping their hands, and in a heartbeat almost everyone had abandoned the challenging words and started clapping with the music. This was a whole different language we were speaking, and it truly was joyful. I suspect that it was much more like what we might experience at African-American churches in the capital.
After a number of years of not attending formal church services, I was lured back when watching the movie "Sister Act," which prominently featured an African-American gospel choir. As I watched the film, I knew what had been missing in my more solitary "worship" and meditation was music. I freely admit that I've always enjoyed what we used to call "spirituals." I am not sure what the politically correct term is for that genre of church music, which came into American churches from pre-emancipation slaves, but that music has always made my heart jump a bit. I feel God in the music. It is a joyful noise. Impossible to miss.
Today's music had a similar impact on me. I know that God wants us to be joyful and to let the world know it. What better way to have the world feel it with us than in these uplifting African rhythms.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Today was the day that representatives from the school in South Africa that our congregation helps sponsor were present, and to honor the occasion, the music director had a festival of South African music. Several musicians played traditional South African instruments. It was clear in the first hymn today's music was going to be more spirited than usual. Even the choir that usually feels stiff and stodgy reflected so.
I kept thinking of Psalm 98:4: "Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise." As I looked around the congregation, I noticed bodies swaying and smiles on faces. This is joyful noise.
The closing hymn required us to sing the African words. Many of us were struggling with the pronunciations, when someone started clapping their hands, and in a heartbeat almost everyone had abandoned the challenging words and started clapping with the music. This was a whole different language we were speaking, and it truly was joyful. I suspect that it was much more like what we might experience at African-American churches in the capital.
After a number of years of not attending formal church services, I was lured back when watching the movie "Sister Act," which prominently featured an African-American gospel choir. As I watched the film, I knew what had been missing in my more solitary "worship" and meditation was music. I freely admit that I've always enjoyed what we used to call "spirituals." I am not sure what the politically correct term is for that genre of church music, which came into American churches from pre-emancipation slaves, but that music has always made my heart jump a bit. I feel God in the music. It is a joyful noise. Impossible to miss.
Today's music had a similar impact on me. I know that God wants us to be joyful and to let the world know it. What better way to have the world feel it with us than in these uplifting African rhythms.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Monday, May 12, 2014
Flipping
I've been reading Creative Confidence by design process geniuses Tom and David Kelly. David started the "d.school" at Stanford. The program is interdisciplinary in that students come to the design with majors from other schools, many, if not most, of them not traditionally considered creative disciplines.
David describes what happens once students "embraced the philosophy of design thinking. Students began visiting him during office hours--sometimes months after the class was over--to tell him that they had started to see themselves as creative individuals for the first time....Their eyes would light up with excitement, with a sense of opportunity. Sometimes they cried. David came up with a name for the transformation he was observing: 'flipping'--changing from one state of mind to another."
I've been there.
I've guided clients as they found their ways there.
Flipping: changing from one state of mind to another.
I am quite confident of one thing about flipping: once a person has flipped, there is no going back. I like to say we cannot not know what we have come to know. If someone tells us something, we can choose to believe or not. We can be wishy-washy and swing back and forth to suit the circumstances. But when we have come to know the Truth about who we are, we cannot not know that.
The power of that Truth is terrifying to step into..to step up to. Some attempt to walk away, but a haunting refrain plays in the back of our psyche echoing, "You know who you are."
So, if you have been gifted with a flip, grab it...and run for all you are worth.
David describes what happens once students "embraced the philosophy of design thinking. Students began visiting him during office hours--sometimes months after the class was over--to tell him that they had started to see themselves as creative individuals for the first time....Their eyes would light up with excitement, with a sense of opportunity. Sometimes they cried. David came up with a name for the transformation he was observing: 'flipping'--changing from one state of mind to another."
I've been there.
I've guided clients as they found their ways there.
Flipping: changing from one state of mind to another.
I am quite confident of one thing about flipping: once a person has flipped, there is no going back. I like to say we cannot not know what we have come to know. If someone tells us something, we can choose to believe or not. We can be wishy-washy and swing back and forth to suit the circumstances. But when we have come to know the Truth about who we are, we cannot not know that.
The power of that Truth is terrifying to step into..to step up to. Some attempt to walk away, but a haunting refrain plays in the back of our psyche echoing, "You know who you are."
So, if you have been gifted with a flip, grab it...and run for all you are worth.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Eternity in the Human Heart
After writing yesterday's post about Ecclesiastes 3, I continued to consider it. I took it to bed with me and read the whole chapter several times before falling asleep. Each time the words that jarred me were that God "has set eternity in the human heart." Today I did some research on this work.
King Solomon, whose very name has come to be synonymous with "wisdom," is believed to have written these passages. The son of King David, Solomon had fallen into, shall we say, bad habits of every stripe, and after wrestling with his conscience to find a higher Truth, he is believed to have settled into the observation that the only true happiness can be found in God. No true happiness was to be found in all the distractors he had chased; it was only to be found in God.
I am certainly not one to say that I want to challenge the wisdom of Solomon, and I agree with what Solomon was saying. AND, I also believe that spiritual writings of every genesis are intended to guide our own spiritual discovery and growth--to find what is true in our own hearts. Accordingly, I believe that they are not intended to tell us an answer, but to point us toward the questions that we should explore.
The question that kept coming to me from this passage was "What does it mean that eternity has been set in the human heart?" I looked up eternity: "the afterlife, everlasting life, life after death, the hereafter, the afterworld, the next world." In a word: heaven. All set in the human heart. Wow...and...I am sure it is true.
I have written before in this blog that I believe God exists in our hearts and what connects us--everyone of us--is God--one heart to another to another...all connected as One. In those moments when I have felt keenly connected to All That Is, I feel it in my heart. When I chose the name for this blog, I did so because I know in my heart that if I listen carefully to my heart, I am listening to God. I believe that is true for each of us. When we listen to our hearts, we are listening to eternity, set in the human heart.
I was also certain when I chose the name for this blog that it was about intention--the intention to live the best possible life. If listening to heaven isn't it, I am not sure where we would turn for answers. That is what Solomon seems to be telling us. He has searched for answers everywhere and in everything, and the answer is in set in the human heart--yours and mine.
King Solomon, whose very name has come to be synonymous with "wisdom," is believed to have written these passages. The son of King David, Solomon had fallen into, shall we say, bad habits of every stripe, and after wrestling with his conscience to find a higher Truth, he is believed to have settled into the observation that the only true happiness can be found in God. No true happiness was to be found in all the distractors he had chased; it was only to be found in God.
I am certainly not one to say that I want to challenge the wisdom of Solomon, and I agree with what Solomon was saying. AND, I also believe that spiritual writings of every genesis are intended to guide our own spiritual discovery and growth--to find what is true in our own hearts. Accordingly, I believe that they are not intended to tell us an answer, but to point us toward the questions that we should explore.
The question that kept coming to me from this passage was "What does it mean that eternity has been set in the human heart?" I looked up eternity: "the afterlife, everlasting life, life after death, the hereafter, the afterworld, the next world." In a word: heaven. All set in the human heart. Wow...and...I am sure it is true.
I have written before in this blog that I believe God exists in our hearts and what connects us--everyone of us--is God--one heart to another to another...all connected as One. In those moments when I have felt keenly connected to All That Is, I feel it in my heart. When I chose the name for this blog, I did so because I know in my heart that if I listen carefully to my heart, I am listening to God. I believe that is true for each of us. When we listen to our hearts, we are listening to eternity, set in the human heart.
I was also certain when I chose the name for this blog that it was about intention--the intention to live the best possible life. If listening to heaven isn't it, I am not sure where we would turn for answers. That is what Solomon seems to be telling us. He has searched for answers everywhere and in everything, and the answer is in set in the human heart--yours and mine.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
A Season for Everything
When I headed out on my errands this afternoon, I found my usual brisk walk falling into a jog. I felt great. It had been so long. I used to run seven miles a day seven days a week...for years. I can remember saying I couldn't imagine a day without running.
A man was running behind me one day, probably 25 years ago. I could hear him moving in on me. Soon, he was pacing me. He said he was 72, and he'd been running since his 20s. He said he had every pair of running shoes he'd ever worn out. Later, I saw an article about him in the paper, and there he was with all those shoes. After chatting a bit, he left me in his dust. That, I thought, is how I want to be 72, running every day and leaving the young ones in my dust.
Then there was an injury, and I had to switch to swimming for a few months. I swam every day, and I was liberated from the pool just two weeks before a half-marathon that I had entered. The swimming had maintained my aerobic fitness, and I was able to complete the race.
Later a protracted illness sidelined me. Always, my goal was to get back to pounding the pavement.
A number of years ago, dance came into my life. I danced almost every evening. I had never been so joyful as when I danced. Time stood still. I'd dance three or four or seven hours straight, and it would feel like a blink. When my partner lifted me in the air, I felt like I was flying...maybe I was. Once he said I giggled throughout the whole lift. I don't remember that, but it doesn't surprise me. I could never imagine not dancing almost every day.
While I was dancing, I still ran several times a week. Both fed something in me that sparked an aliveness. During my first week living in Washington in late 2006, I was crossing the street, and I was hit by a car. In the days after the accident the pain was intense, but with the help of an awesome chiropractor and a massage therapist, purported to be the best in Washington, gradually the pain subsided, as long as I was reasonably sedentary. I could do some dancing, but not the Latin dances--the hip motion hurt too much. Eventually, I was able to do all dances, even if not with the panache I once had or with nearly the frequency or duration. I was never able to run after that...until today.
I didn't want to stretch it today. I ran a couple of blocks then walked a couple more. Then I'd run a bit more. My venture back into running was a spontaneous one: I had bags so I was not attempting a personal best. I was just feeling the rhythm to flow with my body's movement again. What joy! I felt so alive.
As the evening passed, I pondered my foyer back into running. Just yesterday I had talked with a man who did a half-marathon after being sidelined from an injury for an extended period. Do you suppose...maybe...could the running in me still be wanting to come out? Or was that for a different time in my life...?
One of my favorite biblical passages is from Ecclesiastes 3. It starts "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens..." I had it read at my wedding. I had it read at my father's funeral. I found it appropriate for both. In fact, I have found solace in it at every passage of my life. Later in the chapter, it says, "I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."
At any moment, we only see where we are now. We cannot see the context of the world around us or how events, which have passed in our lives, relate to those that will occur later. We cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I cannot know why running made me feel so alive or why it had to stop so abruptly. Or why dance was such a daily presence in my life, and it also has hobbled almost to a halt. Each was a season, which may or may not have passed.
Later the Ecclesiastes passage speaks of our work. "I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God." Finding satisfaction in my toil. Just as with running and dance, there have been many years during which the satisfaction from my work has brought me overwhelming joy--it was not even the slightest stretch to know that my toil was a "gift of God."
In recent years, not so much. Yet I remind myself that there is a season for everything: running, dancing, joy in my work, what feels like drudgery in my work. I do not see the bigger picture. I cannot know what God has done from beginning to end. Today, I am reminded that if I can run again, even if just for a couple blocks at a time, that I may find great joy in my work again. I am reminded that on Monday, I will be coaching almost all day; coaching almost always brings me great joy. One day of joy in my work may be like running two blocks. I am not running a marathon, but I am able to gratefully experience joy in that moment.
There is a time for experiencing joy in a passing moment. That time is now.
A man was running behind me one day, probably 25 years ago. I could hear him moving in on me. Soon, he was pacing me. He said he was 72, and he'd been running since his 20s. He said he had every pair of running shoes he'd ever worn out. Later, I saw an article about him in the paper, and there he was with all those shoes. After chatting a bit, he left me in his dust. That, I thought, is how I want to be 72, running every day and leaving the young ones in my dust.
Then there was an injury, and I had to switch to swimming for a few months. I swam every day, and I was liberated from the pool just two weeks before a half-marathon that I had entered. The swimming had maintained my aerobic fitness, and I was able to complete the race.
Later a protracted illness sidelined me. Always, my goal was to get back to pounding the pavement.
A number of years ago, dance came into my life. I danced almost every evening. I had never been so joyful as when I danced. Time stood still. I'd dance three or four or seven hours straight, and it would feel like a blink. When my partner lifted me in the air, I felt like I was flying...maybe I was. Once he said I giggled throughout the whole lift. I don't remember that, but it doesn't surprise me. I could never imagine not dancing almost every day.
While I was dancing, I still ran several times a week. Both fed something in me that sparked an aliveness. During my first week living in Washington in late 2006, I was crossing the street, and I was hit by a car. In the days after the accident the pain was intense, but with the help of an awesome chiropractor and a massage therapist, purported to be the best in Washington, gradually the pain subsided, as long as I was reasonably sedentary. I could do some dancing, but not the Latin dances--the hip motion hurt too much. Eventually, I was able to do all dances, even if not with the panache I once had or with nearly the frequency or duration. I was never able to run after that...until today.
I didn't want to stretch it today. I ran a couple of blocks then walked a couple more. Then I'd run a bit more. My venture back into running was a spontaneous one: I had bags so I was not attempting a personal best. I was just feeling the rhythm to flow with my body's movement again. What joy! I felt so alive.
As the evening passed, I pondered my foyer back into running. Just yesterday I had talked with a man who did a half-marathon after being sidelined from an injury for an extended period. Do you suppose...maybe...could the running in me still be wanting to come out? Or was that for a different time in my life...?
One of my favorite biblical passages is from Ecclesiastes 3. It starts "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens..." I had it read at my wedding. I had it read at my father's funeral. I found it appropriate for both. In fact, I have found solace in it at every passage of my life. Later in the chapter, it says, "I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."
At any moment, we only see where we are now. We cannot see the context of the world around us or how events, which have passed in our lives, relate to those that will occur later. We cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I cannot know why running made me feel so alive or why it had to stop so abruptly. Or why dance was such a daily presence in my life, and it also has hobbled almost to a halt. Each was a season, which may or may not have passed.
Later the Ecclesiastes passage speaks of our work. "I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God." Finding satisfaction in my toil. Just as with running and dance, there have been many years during which the satisfaction from my work has brought me overwhelming joy--it was not even the slightest stretch to know that my toil was a "gift of God."
In recent years, not so much. Yet I remind myself that there is a season for everything: running, dancing, joy in my work, what feels like drudgery in my work. I do not see the bigger picture. I cannot know what God has done from beginning to end. Today, I am reminded that if I can run again, even if just for a couple blocks at a time, that I may find great joy in my work again. I am reminded that on Monday, I will be coaching almost all day; coaching almost always brings me great joy. One day of joy in my work may be like running two blocks. I am not running a marathon, but I am able to gratefully experience joy in that moment.
There is a time for experiencing joy in a passing moment. That time is now.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Acknowledgement
Our boss has established a new "hall of fame" onto which people can write notes of acknowledgement to members of our division. I've been mostly away from the office for several days, and a colleague mentioned to me that I had something on the hall of fame. Wow! I was shocked.
Of course, I had to go directly to the wall and check it out. There was a lovely letter from one of my clients for work I'd done a month earlier.
I do the work I do because it is in my core to be of service. I love helping people be happier in their work, and I also delight in seeing organizations become more intentional about their work as a consequence. I've mostly blended into the background, allowing the leader with whom I am working to take credit for improving the organization. Not a problem for me...at all...
Yet, it felt really good today to get some positive feedback in a work environment which is largely devoid of same. I used to be much better about acknowledging people for their contribution, but when the culture is "that's your job," I've lost that focus.
As I realized how good it felt today to get my client's acknowledgement, I have pledged to work my acknowledgement muscles more. Who should I be acknowledging today? I sent a few quick emails, but I think the look-in-the-eye-and-say-thanks approach is better. Well, maybe it is better for the recipient, but it is also fun to see someone's eyes light up when they are thanked sincerely.
I haven't issued a challenge for awhile, but this seems like a good one. I would like to encourage readers to think about the people around you that you haven't thanked for "just doing their job" or playing their role (spouse, mother, dad, friend, etc.) Then "just do it!" And if you have any good stories to tell, I'm sure we'd all like to hear.
Of course, I had to go directly to the wall and check it out. There was a lovely letter from one of my clients for work I'd done a month earlier.
I do the work I do because it is in my core to be of service. I love helping people be happier in their work, and I also delight in seeing organizations become more intentional about their work as a consequence. I've mostly blended into the background, allowing the leader with whom I am working to take credit for improving the organization. Not a problem for me...at all...
Yet, it felt really good today to get some positive feedback in a work environment which is largely devoid of same. I used to be much better about acknowledging people for their contribution, but when the culture is "that's your job," I've lost that focus.
As I realized how good it felt today to get my client's acknowledgement, I have pledged to work my acknowledgement muscles more. Who should I be acknowledging today? I sent a few quick emails, but I think the look-in-the-eye-and-say-thanks approach is better. Well, maybe it is better for the recipient, but it is also fun to see someone's eyes light up when they are thanked sincerely.
I haven't issued a challenge for awhile, but this seems like a good one. I would like to encourage readers to think about the people around you that you haven't thanked for "just doing their job" or playing their role (spouse, mother, dad, friend, etc.) Then "just do it!" And if you have any good stories to tell, I'm sure we'd all like to hear.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Oxygen
Oxygen (O2) -- According to Google, "a colorless, odorless reactive gas, the chemical element of atomic number 8 and the life-supporting component of the air." Especially "the life-supporting component of air." We don't think about it much. Through a miraculous process called photosynthesis, our plants and trees deliver oxygen to us so routinely that most of us take for granted the air we breathe.
Today I helped design a game in which children would figure out how many trees needed to be around them to deliver enough oxygen to support that individual's life. Quite a concept.
Oxygen comes in many forms. There is "the colorless, odorless reactive gas, the chemical element of life..." oxygen. There is also metaphorical oxygen which become the "life-supporting component of the air." Anytime we find hope in an otherwise hopeless situation, we have found oxygen.
A friend of mine once told me that for months after his wife's death, his world was black. The only thing that kept him going, day to day, was his need to care for his young son. Then, he said, one beautiful spring day as he walked to his car to go to work, he saw a flower blooming. He knew he had turned a corner. The flower had become his oxygen. He would make it without her.
This week I am attending a creativity and innovation class. My graduate research was on creativity and leadership. My creativity takes many forms: writing, dance/choreography, gardening, food display, and even on occasion music. I've consulted organizations on increasing creativity. When I have been deeply into writing a book, I find all of my creative outlets flourish. I am a marginal pianist the rest of the time, but when I am writing, I have been known to compose and perform concerti.
Yet, at the beginning of the class, when we took a creativity assessment, I had a very low "average" score. It didn't surprise me. I feel as if I work in a creative straight jacket, where even the glimmer of a creative thought can invoke the wrath of my supervisor, and severe consequences will inevitably follow. During the first break, I spoke to the instructor. How can I be "low average?" Then, a wave of emotion washed over me, "I feel dead here," I said. I do...feel dead there.
This week my oxygen has been this class, not that it has been that good a class: it hasn't. But it has provided me with creative oxygen--a life supporting component of creativity. I've found myself doodling thoughts for a book in the margins of my class notes--a book that has been languishing in my computer for years. It just needed oxygen. Ahh! Breathe deeply now: in and out and in and out. I have one more day of creative oxygen. I am relishing the prospect.
When we get on an airplane, the TSA spiel informs parents that in the event of emergency, they should put the oxygen on themselves before attempting to help their children. Day after day, I've been attempting to bring oxygen to my client groups without following TSA's advice to take care of myself first. On Thursday, I will jump deeply back into client work again. This time I will remember to take care of myself first.
Today I helped design a game in which children would figure out how many trees needed to be around them to deliver enough oxygen to support that individual's life. Quite a concept.
Oxygen comes in many forms. There is "the colorless, odorless reactive gas, the chemical element of life..." oxygen. There is also metaphorical oxygen which become the "life-supporting component of the air." Anytime we find hope in an otherwise hopeless situation, we have found oxygen.
A friend of mine once told me that for months after his wife's death, his world was black. The only thing that kept him going, day to day, was his need to care for his young son. Then, he said, one beautiful spring day as he walked to his car to go to work, he saw a flower blooming. He knew he had turned a corner. The flower had become his oxygen. He would make it without her.
This week I am attending a creativity and innovation class. My graduate research was on creativity and leadership. My creativity takes many forms: writing, dance/choreography, gardening, food display, and even on occasion music. I've consulted organizations on increasing creativity. When I have been deeply into writing a book, I find all of my creative outlets flourish. I am a marginal pianist the rest of the time, but when I am writing, I have been known to compose and perform concerti.
Yet, at the beginning of the class, when we took a creativity assessment, I had a very low "average" score. It didn't surprise me. I feel as if I work in a creative straight jacket, where even the glimmer of a creative thought can invoke the wrath of my supervisor, and severe consequences will inevitably follow. During the first break, I spoke to the instructor. How can I be "low average?" Then, a wave of emotion washed over me, "I feel dead here," I said. I do...feel dead there.
This week my oxygen has been this class, not that it has been that good a class: it hasn't. But it has provided me with creative oxygen--a life supporting component of creativity. I've found myself doodling thoughts for a book in the margins of my class notes--a book that has been languishing in my computer for years. It just needed oxygen. Ahh! Breathe deeply now: in and out and in and out. I have one more day of creative oxygen. I am relishing the prospect.
When we get on an airplane, the TSA spiel informs parents that in the event of emergency, they should put the oxygen on themselves before attempting to help their children. Day after day, I've been attempting to bring oxygen to my client groups without following TSA's advice to take care of myself first. On Thursday, I will jump deeply back into client work again. This time I will remember to take care of myself first.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Ubuntu
I grew up in an insular part of the United States. People were considered "different" if they participated in another denomination of Protestantism that we did. Teenagers were banned from dating outside our church. No one could understand why I could possibly want to learn Spanish when we all spoke English.
Concern about the rest of the world seemed to end at the edge of my dinner plate, where my mother seemed to be quite concerned about starving children in China or India, who would apparently be even more malnourished, if I didn't eat my overcooked-to-slimy spinach. Actually, that isn't quite true. Our church was concerned about sending missionaries out into the world who would convert the rest of the world to be just exactly like us. No one ever question whether that would be a good or moral thing to do.
The ways of my home turf never quite "fit" me. Almost as soon as I was old enough to do so, I bolted to the coasts--first the west coast and later east--where, as I had been taught when I was younger, people were much more "liberal." "Liberal" meant anyone that didn't 100% agree with our inward-looking ideas. They were right. Some people, even a lot of people, had different ideas.
I have just learned about the word "ubuntu." "Ubuntu" is South African, and it is used to describe the desire God created in us to need each other. Archbishop Desmond Tutu describes it further as "my humanity is caught up and inextricably bound up in yours."
Ubuntu has come into my vocabulary today because this month marks the 10th anniversary of a partnership between my church in Washington and a school in South Africa. There are many kinds of sponsorship relationships in our world. This one is an interactive partnership, not just a matter of a writing-checks relationship. At least once a year, a relatively large group of people from our church go to the school to work. They get to know the people, and they listen to what is important to them. Occasionally, as happens this month, some people from the school come to spend time in our parish.
Our lives have become inextricably bound in each other. We care what happens there. We know our lives and our world is richer because of the relationships we have.
I am fortunate to have a number of people in my life that interacts regularly globally. We have all come to understand the concept of Ubuntu, even if we may not know the word. A work colleague of mine, who did international development work for many years, is concerned with the growing popularity of quinoa in the United States. Quinoa is a grain, which contains protein. It has been cheap source of high nutrition in many poor countries. As Americans have been discovering quinoa, the global price has increased significantly, making it hard for those people to afford. She understands that her actions at the grocery store in the Washington Metro area are impacting poor people all over the world. Her world is inextricably bound to theirs. She knows it, and her grocery cart reflects her conscientious.
Another friend of mine, a surgeon, goes for several months each year to teach surgery in many poor countries. For the 15 or so years that I've known him, he has been adamant that he not go to do surgery, but that he go to teach surgery. That way the impact of his time it these poor continues long after he has left a country. He understands how his world is inextricably bound to his students and their patients.
A retired judge friend of mine travels for many months at a time to countries that are new to democracy and the rule of law to work with new judges who are attempting to learn how to administer the rule of law. As he's bounced from country to country, I find myself more attuned to events in those countries. Last year, he was in the new South Sudan working. I am sure that my heart has ached more keenly during the current humanitarian crisis in that country because of the awareness he has brought me about the struggles there. My work is inextricably bound to theirs as it wouldn't have been before he brought new awareness to me.
Ubuntu was not a concept that most of my family could have understood. I know 2014 is a different time, but I am not sure that, if we went back to my old neighborhood in 2014, things would be much different. I am sad about that and for the richness those people miss by not being aware of how we are all inextricably bound to one another.
At the same time, I am grateful that I do have Ubuntu in my life and that I now have a word for it. I have known almost forever that we are connected, and I have frequently written about it in this blog. However, I am concerned that I have done so in a passive way--we recognize the connection. I sense that Ubuntu is more proactive. We are not only connected, but the decisions that we make in our daily lives are made with the awareness that even the smallest decisions that we make in our lives, like what grain to buy at the grocery store, have huge consequences in the world.
I've been environmentally aware of the impact of my decisions for years, and I am proud of the decisions that I've made, like moving into a high rise, getting rid of my car, and refusing to eat most meat that is raised in "food factories," all of which have significant consequences on the environment.
Yet, I know that there is more I can do. It is funny how such a simple thing as having a word for something has shifted my thinking. Although the description of Ubuntu that I read is for a noun, I am challenging myself (and others if they choose) to turn it into a verb. Ubuntu (the verb) could become the action we take because of the understanding of the noun. Ubuntu (the verb) becomes an intentional shifting of my consciousness so that I act in adherence with the understanding of Ubuntu (the noun.) I like that. I am about to head to the grocery store where I hope I will discover how I can Ubuntu (the verb) more actively and not only have an impact on the rest of the world, but to actually realize and choose what impact I will have.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Concern about the rest of the world seemed to end at the edge of my dinner plate, where my mother seemed to be quite concerned about starving children in China or India, who would apparently be even more malnourished, if I didn't eat my overcooked-to-slimy spinach. Actually, that isn't quite true. Our church was concerned about sending missionaries out into the world who would convert the rest of the world to be just exactly like us. No one ever question whether that would be a good or moral thing to do.
The ways of my home turf never quite "fit" me. Almost as soon as I was old enough to do so, I bolted to the coasts--first the west coast and later east--where, as I had been taught when I was younger, people were much more "liberal." "Liberal" meant anyone that didn't 100% agree with our inward-looking ideas. They were right. Some people, even a lot of people, had different ideas.
I have just learned about the word "ubuntu." "Ubuntu" is South African, and it is used to describe the desire God created in us to need each other. Archbishop Desmond Tutu describes it further as "my humanity is caught up and inextricably bound up in yours."
Ubuntu has come into my vocabulary today because this month marks the 10th anniversary of a partnership between my church in Washington and a school in South Africa. There are many kinds of sponsorship relationships in our world. This one is an interactive partnership, not just a matter of a writing-checks relationship. At least once a year, a relatively large group of people from our church go to the school to work. They get to know the people, and they listen to what is important to them. Occasionally, as happens this month, some people from the school come to spend time in our parish.
Our lives have become inextricably bound in each other. We care what happens there. We know our lives and our world is richer because of the relationships we have.
I am fortunate to have a number of people in my life that interacts regularly globally. We have all come to understand the concept of Ubuntu, even if we may not know the word. A work colleague of mine, who did international development work for many years, is concerned with the growing popularity of quinoa in the United States. Quinoa is a grain, which contains protein. It has been cheap source of high nutrition in many poor countries. As Americans have been discovering quinoa, the global price has increased significantly, making it hard for those people to afford. She understands that her actions at the grocery store in the Washington Metro area are impacting poor people all over the world. Her world is inextricably bound to theirs. She knows it, and her grocery cart reflects her conscientious.
Another friend of mine, a surgeon, goes for several months each year to teach surgery in many poor countries. For the 15 or so years that I've known him, he has been adamant that he not go to do surgery, but that he go to teach surgery. That way the impact of his time it these poor continues long after he has left a country. He understands how his world is inextricably bound to his students and their patients.
A retired judge friend of mine travels for many months at a time to countries that are new to democracy and the rule of law to work with new judges who are attempting to learn how to administer the rule of law. As he's bounced from country to country, I find myself more attuned to events in those countries. Last year, he was in the new South Sudan working. I am sure that my heart has ached more keenly during the current humanitarian crisis in that country because of the awareness he has brought me about the struggles there. My work is inextricably bound to theirs as it wouldn't have been before he brought new awareness to me.
Ubuntu was not a concept that most of my family could have understood. I know 2014 is a different time, but I am not sure that, if we went back to my old neighborhood in 2014, things would be much different. I am sad about that and for the richness those people miss by not being aware of how we are all inextricably bound to one another.
At the same time, I am grateful that I do have Ubuntu in my life and that I now have a word for it. I have known almost forever that we are connected, and I have frequently written about it in this blog. However, I am concerned that I have done so in a passive way--we recognize the connection. I sense that Ubuntu is more proactive. We are not only connected, but the decisions that we make in our daily lives are made with the awareness that even the smallest decisions that we make in our lives, like what grain to buy at the grocery store, have huge consequences in the world.
I've been environmentally aware of the impact of my decisions for years, and I am proud of the decisions that I've made, like moving into a high rise, getting rid of my car, and refusing to eat most meat that is raised in "food factories," all of which have significant consequences on the environment.
Yet, I know that there is more I can do. It is funny how such a simple thing as having a word for something has shifted my thinking. Although the description of Ubuntu that I read is for a noun, I am challenging myself (and others if they choose) to turn it into a verb. Ubuntu (the verb) could become the action we take because of the understanding of the noun. Ubuntu (the verb) becomes an intentional shifting of my consciousness so that I act in adherence with the understanding of Ubuntu (the noun.) I like that. I am about to head to the grocery store where I hope I will discover how I can Ubuntu (the verb) more actively and not only have an impact on the rest of the world, but to actually realize and choose what impact I will have.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, May 2, 2014
My Legacy
I attended a conference today--an organization development (OD) conference. These are odd gatherings. Most of us work in the world of business, whether it is in enterprise or like I do in government in the world of the people's business. Yet, OD crosses barriers unlike most other professions. On one level we work on making organizations better very much in the here, now, and tangible world while on the other level we do the sacred work of soul and spirit in our workplaces. Most of us don't talk about it a lot except with each other, but that is what we do.
Unlike most others, I did write and speak of the spiritual dimensions of work a lot...in the 1990s. Three books and lots of speeches. That was a time when I had a very clear sense of my purpose and the legacy I was here to leave. That was then; now is now. I seemed to have lost touch with my life's intention. I still do many of the same tasks and activities, but they feel like going through the motions in the physical world instead of filling me with passion, zeal, and purpose in my very soul as they once did.
The life got tough about a dozen years ago, and somehow in the struggle to just get by, I lost all of that. One of my coaching clients once talked about it as losing her spark. That's a good metaphor, because it does seem like I've lost my fire most of the time.
This morning I glimpsed again. Although I felt like I should be a in a session about organizational resistance, but instead I went to one on legacy. It ended up it wasn't about "legacy" at all, but that's OK. I got into the right head space anyway.
The focus of the conference was on innovation. I researched creativity/innovation and leadership in graduate school, and I think that is how I discovered my soul. Maybe it is more appropriate to say that I became conscious of my soul--awake to it. Creativity, it seems, is a deeply spiritual subject--not one that I could easily study without dipping into my own spirituality. Having those conversations today took me there again.
I had been so sure that I was on my path back then, and today I felt it so clearly again. For a while this evening, I wondered how I could have so lost touch with who I am, but as the hours passed, I knew. I have always been on my path. I just didn't know where the journey would take me and I did lose touch with the feeling of truly being alive--being me. But, in my heart I know that I've always been on my journey, I just didn't know I was. I hadn't focused my attention on that intention in a way that is spiritually ignorant--ignoring it, if you will.
We are all on our journeys...all the time: sometimes we just forget to notice and to honor the journey for what it is.
I wish I could say that I have a crystal clear view of my legacy. I don't. What I know now that I didn't know this morning is it is time for me to be conscious of being in my legacy...again. My soul yearns for it. Those who have been reading this blog know that for the last several months I've written about feeling "pregnant"--feeling something in me was about to be born or has been tightly in bud and wants to bloom. This evening I am sure it is more like waking up to what has been there all along. That is my legacy--not words to describe it--but really feeling it, stepping into it, being it. That is all there is.
Unlike most others, I did write and speak of the spiritual dimensions of work a lot...in the 1990s. Three books and lots of speeches. That was a time when I had a very clear sense of my purpose and the legacy I was here to leave. That was then; now is now. I seemed to have lost touch with my life's intention. I still do many of the same tasks and activities, but they feel like going through the motions in the physical world instead of filling me with passion, zeal, and purpose in my very soul as they once did.
The life got tough about a dozen years ago, and somehow in the struggle to just get by, I lost all of that. One of my coaching clients once talked about it as losing her spark. That's a good metaphor, because it does seem like I've lost my fire most of the time.
This morning I glimpsed again. Although I felt like I should be a in a session about organizational resistance, but instead I went to one on legacy. It ended up it wasn't about "legacy" at all, but that's OK. I got into the right head space anyway.
The focus of the conference was on innovation. I researched creativity/innovation and leadership in graduate school, and I think that is how I discovered my soul. Maybe it is more appropriate to say that I became conscious of my soul--awake to it. Creativity, it seems, is a deeply spiritual subject--not one that I could easily study without dipping into my own spirituality. Having those conversations today took me there again.
I had been so sure that I was on my path back then, and today I felt it so clearly again. For a while this evening, I wondered how I could have so lost touch with who I am, but as the hours passed, I knew. I have always been on my path. I just didn't know where the journey would take me and I did lose touch with the feeling of truly being alive--being me. But, in my heart I know that I've always been on my journey, I just didn't know I was. I hadn't focused my attention on that intention in a way that is spiritually ignorant--ignoring it, if you will.
We are all on our journeys...all the time: sometimes we just forget to notice and to honor the journey for what it is.
I wish I could say that I have a crystal clear view of my legacy. I don't. What I know now that I didn't know this morning is it is time for me to be conscious of being in my legacy...again. My soul yearns for it. Those who have been reading this blog know that for the last several months I've written about feeling "pregnant"--feeling something in me was about to be born or has been tightly in bud and wants to bloom. This evening I am sure it is more like waking up to what has been there all along. That is my legacy--not words to describe it--but really feeling it, stepping into it, being it. That is all there is.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
The Headwaters
My mother was never going to be nominated "Mother of the Year," but I feel it is important to give credit where it is due. When our birthday's arrived, we were the center of everything. Everyone ate what the birthday person wanted to eat, did what the birthday person wanted to do, and watched what the birthday person wanted to watch on TV. It was a very big deal from a parent who largely didn't seem care what we wanted the rest of the year.
Today was my birthday. It was a landmark one that I won't mention. For the last several years I've spent the day alone. Last year I dined with a friend who didn't know it was my birthday until we were almost done eating. Another year I had a dinner party, but with one exception, no one remembered it was my birthday. It's not that I want a birthday party or anything. I am an introvert; mostly parties are utterly painful. Surprise birthday parties are the very worst. I do like people I care about to remember, and I like to dine with one or two close friends. I got several birthday emails and texts today. Thanks to all who remembered.
As my special day had approached, I've been restless. I am a big girl; I know the special treatment all day thing was for a kid. Still, I wanted to mark the day in a special way--a trip maybe--but couldn't settle on anything. I've been working long hours, and even scheduling a trip has proven a challenge. A couple of weeks ago I realized that work commitments had closed the window on a trip, so I put in a leave request for today. At least I wouldn't be working today.
I decided that a day of pampering would be perfect. I don't think I've ever scheduled a whole day of special treatment for me: a pedicure, a manicure, a facial, and a luscious two-hour massage. That would salve my self-pity, I thought. I went to bed when I wanted, which, for me, is always very late. I awakened when I stopped sleeping. Maybe it would be the perfect day.
I struggled to remember a dream which I recalled as being vivid, but couldn't recall any details at all. So, I moved into meditation position. Almost the moment my eyes fell closed, I saw a familiar and almost sacred place to me: Paulina Spring. A friend first took me to the "spring" in Central Oregon almost 30 years ago. I have loved it since first seeing it.
When I was living in Oregon, I would always enjoy heading there on walks and bike rides when I was in the area. However, for probably 20 years, Paulina Spring has been my frequent refuge in meditation. Paulina Spring defines "peaceful spot" for me.
I believe Paulina Spring is properly called a spring, but it is also the headwaters for a creek that quickly gains volume and speed just feet from the spring, first as a marsh, and eventually meandering through Black Butte Ranch. My special place is right where a number of springs gurgle out of the middle of a grassy horseshoe-shaped knoll. The sound of the bubbling is mesmerizing, and on a pretty sunny day has been known to lull me to sleep.
That impression this morning shifted my whole day from one of salving my wounds to gathering energy for the future. As the spring quickly gains speed to become something much greater, I felt like my meditations were saying, "Paulina Spring has a lesson for you." I listened. It was water of life for me...and helped me have a perfectly different birthday.
I struggle to put into words what I seemed to know in a whole as I saw that picture in my mind's eye because there were different aspects but not separate pieces. First and foremost, however, was that this was about a beginning. Accomplishment is in the future not in reflecting on the passing of another year. The spring was flowing forth with great energy to give life abundantly to hundreds of species throughout its watershed. I too have a job to bring great energy and to give life--to help people find life from the inside out--from what they know in their hearts.
But there was more. There is chaos in the bubbling and mingling of waters, and at the same time there is incredible peace as the flow follows as it has timelessly for decades, maybe centuries or even millennia. A natural order exists, and all we have to do is allow it--to literally go with the flow instead of resisting what wants to happen.
So it is that my perfect birthday began, settling in to the natural order and what wants to happen instead of making up how my day should have been but will never be. I surrender a watered down reflection on what has been and embraced a celebration of what can be. This new year has all the earmarks of a great adventure.
Today was my birthday. It was a landmark one that I won't mention. For the last several years I've spent the day alone. Last year I dined with a friend who didn't know it was my birthday until we were almost done eating. Another year I had a dinner party, but with one exception, no one remembered it was my birthday. It's not that I want a birthday party or anything. I am an introvert; mostly parties are utterly painful. Surprise birthday parties are the very worst. I do like people I care about to remember, and I like to dine with one or two close friends. I got several birthday emails and texts today. Thanks to all who remembered.
As my special day had approached, I've been restless. I am a big girl; I know the special treatment all day thing was for a kid. Still, I wanted to mark the day in a special way--a trip maybe--but couldn't settle on anything. I've been working long hours, and even scheduling a trip has proven a challenge. A couple of weeks ago I realized that work commitments had closed the window on a trip, so I put in a leave request for today. At least I wouldn't be working today.
I decided that a day of pampering would be perfect. I don't think I've ever scheduled a whole day of special treatment for me: a pedicure, a manicure, a facial, and a luscious two-hour massage. That would salve my self-pity, I thought. I went to bed when I wanted, which, for me, is always very late. I awakened when I stopped sleeping. Maybe it would be the perfect day.
I struggled to remember a dream which I recalled as being vivid, but couldn't recall any details at all. So, I moved into meditation position. Almost the moment my eyes fell closed, I saw a familiar and almost sacred place to me: Paulina Spring. A friend first took me to the "spring" in Central Oregon almost 30 years ago. I have loved it since first seeing it.
When I was living in Oregon, I would always enjoy heading there on walks and bike rides when I was in the area. However, for probably 20 years, Paulina Spring has been my frequent refuge in meditation. Paulina Spring defines "peaceful spot" for me.
I believe Paulina Spring is properly called a spring, but it is also the headwaters for a creek that quickly gains volume and speed just feet from the spring, first as a marsh, and eventually meandering through Black Butte Ranch. My special place is right where a number of springs gurgle out of the middle of a grassy horseshoe-shaped knoll. The sound of the bubbling is mesmerizing, and on a pretty sunny day has been known to lull me to sleep.
That impression this morning shifted my whole day from one of salving my wounds to gathering energy for the future. As the spring quickly gains speed to become something much greater, I felt like my meditations were saying, "Paulina Spring has a lesson for you." I listened. It was water of life for me...and helped me have a perfectly different birthday.
I struggle to put into words what I seemed to know in a whole as I saw that picture in my mind's eye because there were different aspects but not separate pieces. First and foremost, however, was that this was about a beginning. Accomplishment is in the future not in reflecting on the passing of another year. The spring was flowing forth with great energy to give life abundantly to hundreds of species throughout its watershed. I too have a job to bring great energy and to give life--to help people find life from the inside out--from what they know in their hearts.
But there was more. There is chaos in the bubbling and mingling of waters, and at the same time there is incredible peace as the flow follows as it has timelessly for decades, maybe centuries or even millennia. A natural order exists, and all we have to do is allow it--to literally go with the flow instead of resisting what wants to happen.
So it is that my perfect birthday began, settling in to the natural order and what wants to happen instead of making up how my day should have been but will never be. I surrender a watered down reflection on what has been and embraced a celebration of what can be. This new year has all the earmarks of a great adventure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)