Sunday, December 28, 2014

Taking Risks

It's been a while since I've posted, and while I could use the busy holiday season as an excuse, it would be just that--an excuse.  While I often figure things out as I write, I have been restless and unfocused and, quite frankly, I just haven't known how to get started. Once or twice I've actually sat and stared at the computer, something that has never happened with this blog before.  Over the last 24 hours, pieces have come to me.  I still don't have a clear picture but I have enough to get started and feel my way along. 

Last night at midnight...I actually looked at the clock, and it was straight-up 12 a.m....I finished watching a movie I'd been given for Christmas.  It wasn't a great movie, but not a bad one either.  What clicked last night was that several plot lines in the movie said the same thing: you're never going to get what you want if you don't stop doing what you've always done and risk doing something completely different. 

That wasn't the first time I'd stumbled onto that theme this week.  I've actually been proofing The Game Called Life before it becomes available as an eBook.  I have been reading my own words, or more appropriately the words that moved through me a dozen years ago onto the screen of my computer.  Three of seven steps to what the book describes as "living a prayer" are to: ask for guidance, follow fearlessly and risk greatness. 

I haven't been so good at getting guidance recently, not because I think God has stopped handing out guidance, but because I think I've been afraid of what I'd hear. I've stopped asking.  When I've followed fearlessly before, I have thought that I lost and lost big time.  However, all I lost was money, retirement savings, other assets, and a business that I loved.  It is true that I was homeless for a while, but thanks to the grace of a couple friends, I never slept on the streets.  And while I was down to my last $300 with $600 in "must-pays" due, that was very moment that I got a job that made the situation moot.

From a very human perspective, I was terrified when I'd followed fearlessly, but I was really never in harm's way.  I was so terrified that I have been unwilling to go there again. I stopped asking. It hasn't been a conscious decision, not one I even recognized until today, but a decision nonetheless. 

What I was feeling before I watched the movie last night was that 2014 had been a fallow year.  In the farm country, where I grew up, a fallow year is one during which the land has been plowed and harrowed but left unsown in order to restore its fertility.  Several places in the Bible, we are told to allow the land to be fallow, usually every seventh year.  For much of the year that is about to end, I've felt a restlessness.  I've written about it here.

As I watched the movie last night, it became clear to me that until I was willing to let go of my security-focused existence and really turn my life back to God, I would probably continue to be fallow.  In fact, I think I've fallow for much longer than 2014, unwilling to risk following fearlessly. 

This morning our pastor seemed to speak directly to me.  He said that God promises maximum support but minimum protection.  He said, "There are no Kevlar vests," when we follow God's path of growth. He was right.  I had had maximum support: I never slept in the streets and a job came when I absolutely needed it. (And not one second sooner.)  But I'd also had minimum protection: my material assets vanished.

The pastor continued to say, "Growth is necessary.  If we are not growing, we experience distress."  It is our responsibility he said to create situations that require learning and growth.  Just the kind of thing that happens when we "ask" and "follow fearlessly."  Just the kind of thing that happened when I gave up my unsatisfying, minimum-wage teaching job to come to Washington to find consulting work that I had long loved.

The pastor talked about growing in our relationships.  That was actually a theme in the movie as well.  It suggested that we each have to give up how we've done relationships in order to grow into more satisfying and more rewarding ones.  At this point, I am unwilling to risk losing my home and retirement again, although that day may be nearer than farther.  However, I think I am willing to risk doing relationships differently.  I don't really know what that means, but I am "distressed" at lying fallow any longer.  I am certain that if I am willing to "ask" again, I will find out what it means.

Saturday, December 20, 2014

There was Water Out There

When working with groups, I've often focused the attention of participants on one part of the room, and then asked them a question about a different part of the room.  Rarely can anyone recall anything for the part of the room away from where they were looking.  What we focus on truly determines what we miss. 

I worked out of town this week at NASA's Stennis Space Center in Mississippi.  By the time I stowed my car, gathered my luggage, and arrived at my room, it was long after dark, and I had a call to make.  The draperies in my hotel room were drawn, and I had no reason to open them.  I slept.  I awakened, got ready, and went to work. 

Tuesday evening I returned before dark and threw the draperies open to get light.  To my amazement, my hotel room looked out over a beautiful estuary.  I believe it was the Pearl River.  The water was as smooth as glass, accented by sailboats at a small marina.  The view literally took my breath away.  I'd had no idea there was such a beautiful view. 

 
 
My discovery really made me think: what else in my life am I missing, just because I'm not looking?  I'm failing to throw back the draperies that conceal magic.
 
Yesterday I spent the day with a fairly new friend, learning to make tamales and talking for hours as we made the ingredients and then assembled and cooked them.  Although a crush of pre-holiday have-to-dos were awaiting, I chose to be present and totally focused on our fun.  It was relaxing and joyful.  I was so pleased with myself and having had the consciousness to turn away from the lists and just be with my new friend.
 
This evening, my focus was on old friends.  The annual task of writing Christmas cards turned joyful as I reveled in the opportunity to stay in touch with people who have been special in my life for decades, some going back to college days.  Once again, I allowed myself to be present to the joy instead of distracted by others things I might be doing.
 
My intentions for the new year are pretty much the same as they've been for a couple years: write more, get more exercise, and spend time building meaningful relationships.  What has distracted me from these important things in the past has been that I focused on the have-to-dos related to my work instead of the choose-to-dos in my personal life. 
 
In 2015, the vivid imagery of the estuary behind my hotel room will remind me to focus on the sources of beauty in my life and be joyfully present to them.

Monday, December 15, 2014

Would you be willing...?

Would you be willing...to just let go?

One of the regular readers of this blog and I were talking about just surrendering to the guidance we received.  The words "Would you be willing..." echoed in my head as we talked.  They have haunted me as a non-musical earworm all evening.  Mother Teresa's name came up.  Would I be willing to go and work in squalor in Calcutta with people in such dire conditions?  We also mentioned working with refugees in Lebanon and caring for the injured in Syria.  How about caring for those suffering from ebola in West Africa?

There was a time when I am certain that I would have dropped everything to go wherever I was called.  After losing my business and having struggled to get back on my feet financially, I feel like I must have a "regular day job" at this time in my life.  The particular regular day job I have has me so booked up that in order to have 10 days vacation I had to schedule it six months in advance.  I am not sure how I would drop everything and go.

Yet, I know that is what I should do. I'd like to say that it was easier for people who dropped everything to do God's work in biblical times, but the truth probably is that it wasn't.  They didn't have to worry about mortgages and funding retirement to support themselves if they lived to be 100, but I suspect their existences were far more on the edge.  Walking away to serve has probably never really been easy.  I am certain they didn't have paid vacations to worry about scheduling.

For decades I've thought that when I retire that I would serve, but now it looks like I may never retire.  In the years when I was writing and speaking, I truly felt like I was showing up to serve just as God would have me do.  My friend reminds me that how I do what I do now is serving.  It rarely feels that way.

This blog is about living with the intention to do what you know is right in your heart...or more accurately, it is about me living with the intention to do what I know is right in my heart. I hope others will be inspired to share the journey. I wish I could say that I am doing that.  However, in something like the keyboard equivalent of a Freudian slip, when I wrote two lines above "to do what I know," what came out my fingers was "what I know is write in my heart."  Maybe that is the answer.  Will I be willing to make writing my intention because I certainly know in my heart that is right for me?

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Reclaiming My Life

I'm not really sure why it is that when I fall out of a habit--even a habit I love--overcoming inertia is so darned hard.

Approaching the end of my second week of normal work hours, I've only contemplated going to the gym again. Now this should not be difficult for me. I have access to free workout facilities in the both the buildings in which I live and work. Furthermore, daily exercise has been part if my daily routine, when I haven't had an injury, for 30 years. I enjoy it! I feel good when I am exercising. This is not an onerous task, but something I enjoy!

Similarly, I very much enjoy my Thursday evening Argentine tango class and miss my dance partner friends. Last Thursday after work I was back and forth about whether to get on the train that would take me to the class or the one that would take me home. I came home.

So when I bumped into a colleague when changing trains this morning, and I shared with her my frustration in not getting back to tango, she said, "it's like going to the gym; the first time is always the hardest."

Yes! That's exactly what it is like. The moment she said it, something inside me clicked. I knew I would love both when I overcame the inertia.

In that moment I sat the intention to change my trends and the sooner the better. After work, I grabbed the workout clothes that had been sitting in my bottom file drawer for months, and I headed to the gym. It was a short workout, but it accomplished the most important thing: it was enough to get me started again. I am sure I will be back soon, maybe even tomorrow; it was fun.

The workout was short because I'd also pledged to get back to tango, and I did. I really enjoyed myself there, too. Most importantly, I have allowed my healthy intentions, and not my inertia, to dictate my life. I truly am reclaiming my life.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Feelin' Alive

An odd thing happened about 8 p.m. last evening: I started to feel.  Not emotionally; I seem to do well with that.  What I started to feel was alive. 

I had pledged for months that, as soon as I was through Thanksgiving, I would begin to work "normal" hours.  Until that point, I was boxed into long-term commitments with clients.  For months, I had been very judicious about accepting new work so that I would continue to dig my hole deeper. 

Yesterday was one week since we went back to work after Thanksgiving.  Last week I did work shorter hours but I was in training two days, so I did attend to things before and after class.  Yesterday was the first "regular" work day since Thanksgiving and my first "regular" work day for over a year.  I actually worked the number of hours I am scheduled to work. 

What was even better is that I could work at a sane pace.  For months, I'd felt like I was juggling so many glass balls that I couldn't possibly keep them in the air, but also couldn't let any drop.  I could feel the tension mount in my shoulders even as I would be walking toward my office in the mornings.  Yesterday, I just took on one task after another and completed each, allowing myself to be totally absorbed in what I was doing--being present. 

I did stay 15-20 minutes late last night, time that I actually relished, because I was relaxed and just pulled a couple things off the stack on my desk that has been mounting for a year.  This morning I continued, sorting through a stack of rolled up chart pad pages that have been accumulating, and I was able to almost empty that corner of clutter of the room.  I am astounded at how relaxed I have been the last two days...and what a difference that has made in how I feel.

That brings me back to what I felt last evening.  I got home 2-1/2 hours earlier than usual.  I had a nice dinner that I could actually enjoy because I wasn't falling asleep in my soup.  Then I paid a few bills and balanced my checking account.  This may all sound pretty mundane, but I haven't had energy or focus to do anything that required thought for months.

All that, and it was still before the time I normally got home.  :-)  I almost didn't know what to do with myself, but that was the point when I realized what I was feeling.  The deep exhaustion that had worn on me for so long was gone.  I had energy.  My head was clear enough to concentrate, and I actually had time, energy, focus, and enthusiasm to plan a weekend trip with a friend.  None of this would have been possible even a week earlier. 

Today I began to feel glimmers of optimism.  I actually volunteered to help a colleague on something, and I'm contemplating assuming a responsibility that a different colleague has been urging me to take for some time.  I am doing so with a view not to overload myself again, but I delighted to have the option to choose to take on something else.  I've felt so buried for so long that I didn't have the choice.  Now I do.  Choice is a powerful intoxicant, and I am dizzy with joy for being back in the driver's seat in my life.

Now, one step at a time forward....

Friday, December 5, 2014

Noticing

Since my trip to Greece, which ended in early October, I haven't been eating as healthfully as I'd like.  After eating way too much on Thanksgiving, I knew I had to do something different.  I decided to do a cleanse that I'd read about in The Washington Post.  The eating regimen isn't that differently from how I try to eat most of the time. No dairy, but that's no biggie.  I don't eat much dairy any way.  Most importantly, however, is no sugar.  After just a couple of days of having sugar out of my system, I felt much better, and I know I am much more relaxed.

The interesting thing about this cleanse is not just what I eat or don't eat, but also how I eat.  Specifically, I am not to do anything while I eat except eat. 

I didn't realize until I attempted to comply with this part of the regime how I'd slipped big time into multi-tasking while I eat, and everywhere else. I know that multi-tasking has become a fact of life in this decade, but I am not even aware how or when I slipped into the multi-tasking habit.  Eat my breakfast fruit while doing my makeup in the morning.  Catch up on my email while I eat lunch at my desk.  Watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert while I have dinner. (I watch it the next day, when it airs at a time that allows me to view without literally losing sleep over it.) Snacks are even worse, often they're eaten "mid-flight" while running to my next meeting.  As much as giving up sugar, giving up whatever else I am used to doing while I eat has been harder.

One of the first things that I noticed was that most of the time, I eat about half as much. I eat more slowly.  When I am only concentrating on eating, I actually notice when I am full, probably because I've taken enough time to let the messages reach my brain and register that I'm full. Or maybe the messages have been there, and I haven't been noticing.  And funny as it may seem, I actually feel more full than when I am eating more but not being mindful. 

I'm sure that I was a rabbit in a past life, because I love eating the crunchy greens.  Most often, dinner is a large salad.  When I am actually paying attention to my eating, I notice that I get tired of chewing about half-way through the salad, and I'm kind of bored with the chewing, too.

Little cues, like being full, tired of chewing, and bored, have just gone flying by without me noticing.  So, now I am noticing. 

Curious about what else I've been missing, I've tried little single-tasking, focusing-on-what-I'm-doing experiments. (I wouldn't want to go full throttle.)  Tonight, I turned off radio, music, TV, and Greek lessons and focused completely on preparing my salad.  While it is not uncommon for me to nibble as I cut and chop ingredients for my salads, since I wasn't multi-tasking, tonight I had to actually stop what I was doing and enjoy the grape tomato that I'd popped in my mouth.  What an experience! 

I could hear and feel my molars breaking the skin of the tomato.  I could feel an explosion of the juices as the tiny fruit sprayed my mouth.  The taste was delicious. I just stood there for 20-30 seconds, leaning against the counter,  totally absorbed into the experience of one solitary grape tomato.  One grape tomato!  Something similar happened when I stopped my preparations to eat one of several pecans that I was chopping for my salad.

The exquisiteness of being totally in the moment with my dinner preparations didn't stop with oral experience.  I noticed cutting a wedge of lemon how I noticed the different textures on my fingers and how my knife moved differently through the skin/rind than through the inner recesses of the fruit and the juice. 

And, all of this in less than the 20 minutes it took to make a salad...just because I was noticing.
I've written a lot in this column about being present.  I've quoted spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss as saying "being present" was the most important spiritual lesson that we have to learn.  I know it is hard, but in such a short time this evening, I really "got" what that means on whole different level.

I will continue my cleanse because I know how much better...how much mellower...I feel when I don't eat sugar, and it seems that the only thing that can keep me away from the white stuff is something like this cleanse or Lent.   Yet, I am certain the spiritual lessons that I have to learn from this focus are to be present, to do one thing at a time, and to truly notice all of the dimensions of experience that can be had from even the simplest of things, like popping a grape tomato or pecan in my mouth while cooking.