Through the Eyes of a Three-Year Old

When I was in graduate school, I took a class called "Creativity in Business." It really wasn't as much about the nominal topic as it was about awakening from our auto-pilot lives to look at the world differently.

The professor chunked the term into three and four-day segments, and then he gave us a perspective shift that we were to bring to our lives for each segment. I truly don't remember most of them, but one is very sharp in my memory to this day. "See the world through the eyes of a three-year old" was our task for one of those segments.

I remember being astounded, both by what I normally missed that a three-year old would see, as well as what I normally saw that a three-year old would either miss or would have absolutely no interest in. I noticed things in nature that were close to the ground that I'd never noticed or at least not in decades, including a smashingly beautiful beetle. I also had to abandon interest in the news and bigger problems of the day and be much more carefree.

This perspective was brought home to me again last evening when "my babies" arrived. They are staying in a guest suite down the hall.  I gathered the girls up to walk back to my apartment for a snack while their parents set up the portable crib and unpacked.  The two-year-old threw here arms up in "victory stance" (more on this later) and ran as fast as her little legs would carry her, squealing every inch of the way. 

It was late, and, at first, I was concerned about waking my neighbors.  Then I thought, "Could I do that?"  Not would I do that, but could I do it.  The difference isn't semantic.  Would implies that I could but would make a judgment about whether, for a wide range of reasons, I would allow myself to embrace life so totally and completely. 

To throw 100 percent of my being totally and completely into, well, just being!  The last time I threw 100 percent of myself into anything was the five days in which I wrote The Game Called Life--13 years ago.  Yet, even that was a mental/intellectual surrender.  The two-year-old not only let go of any constraints, but she threw here whole being into...being.  There was something really magical about how totally she threw herself into just going for it.

The "victory stance" is the posture that people across time and cultures have thrown into celebration of victory.  We've all seen it countless times. Think of the victor at the finish of a race, chest up and out with arms extended upward in a V-position. That is the victory stance, and that is exactly the posture that Ava took as she ran full-out down my hall.  It ends up that the victory stance isn't just about celebrating something a person just did well, but when we take that posture, chemicals in our brains are released that propel us into a future success.

The question that came to me "Could I do that?" reflected my personal doubt that I could not only throw myself intellectually into something, but could also put every bit of my passion into just assuming victory, even before I went anywhere, to just know that if I threw myself into whatever, I would just want to squeal with unadulterated joy.  I've done that occasionally on the dance floor, but it has been a very long time.  What I forgot is that the very act of being victorious actually creates victory.

So, I tweaked the perspective-shift my professor assigned, and instead of seeing the world from the eyes of the three-year-old, I wondered if I could be through the heart of a two-year-old.  I really am not sure I can, but, if there is anything I know in my heart, I know that is what I want to be. Full-out 100 percent.  I'd say the "but" is that I don't know anything I care that much about, but that is the very thing about what that sweet little girl Ava did: she was 100 percent full-out about nothing.  She was 100 percent full-out about life for absolutely no reason except that it felt good. 

When I think about my creativity in business class, which I've described as awakening me from my auto-pilot life to look at the world differently, I really wonder if maybe it has taken me decades to figure out what that really meant--that it really meant to be 100 percent for no reason at all: just because.








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Finding Kay

This is the second weekend this year that I've designated for working on my memoir.    At a writer's conference I once heard a woman, who is a much more financially successful author than I am, say that when she was starting to write a book that she had to clean the oven.  I've been restless today.  It happens every time I write a book.  Because I write from my heart and of the heart, I have to really be aligned with who I am: I have to find Kay.

Finding oneself may simultaneously be the easiest and most difficult things any of us ever does.  I find it particularly challenging in my current life because so much of what I need to do to survive is very unnatural to me. (Get up at 5 a.m.)  Clearly, what I do to survive are the very things that get in the way of me thriving. But surviving is important.  With our wind-chill of 20 degrees today, I am glad that I've done some of those unnatural things to have a warm place to live and food in my belly.

But before I can write, I have to get back to that place of thriving.  For me, that means listening to my natural rhythms and doing the things for which I have passion.  I go to sleep when I am tired...usually very late.  I sleep until I wake...almost always later than most mature adults would think acceptable. I do what I my inner knowing directs.  Today that meant a lingering bath and facial, followed by enjoying our beautiful sunny day with a brisk walk into Cleveland Park to the post office.  I love to cook (and fortunately I also love to be active,) and I listened to Splendid Table while making sun-dried tomato jam to accompany a risotto dish I will make for one of my adopted families next weekend. I felt like capturing these thoughts for the blog. Now, I am feeling like a nap.

What I notice about those days during which I listen to my natural rhythms is that I give much more attention to what is working in my life and that leads to much more appreciation for what I have.  I noticed how much I am grateful that I can go for a brisk walk and how I appreciate being a 15- to 20-minute walk from most places I need to go, so I don't have to depend on a car. After too much time this week in offices and at computers, I loved moving.

I was pleased that I could go to the grocery store and purchase the ingredients for things I wanted to cook. Then, I delighted in using my kitchen, which was renovated in the last year and is full of things that remind me of time over food in Italy.  From time to time, I have gazed out my living room window and felt satisfaction as I looked over the leafless trees in the park silhouetted against the cobalt-blue sky.

I've breathed more deeply and exhaled more regularly.  I notice my body and how comfortable I am in it (although I would love to shed 6 more of my holiday pounds.)  Unlike much of the time when I feel like I couldn't satisfy all the things others expect of me, today I am perfect in who I am:  I don't need to be more or less.  I just am.

Whenever I find Kay, I frequently have passing thoughts about how I lose her...again and again.  Today I had the same question, but today it doesn't really matter.  Today I found Kay, and her muse will inevitably follow.

Living with Intention

Today is a "free" day for me.  I took a day of leave just to BE.  My dreams were rich, and I had time to process them this morning instead of jumping out of bed to get ready for work.  The messages were clear. I must publish more on the BEing of a leader, the subject of Leading from the Heart, which has been out of print for over a dozen years.  I must write more on intention.  

The word or concept of "intention" has been overused by some as a concept that is something like what one speaker described as "using God as the great carhop in the sky," delivering whatever "stuff" we happen to think will bring happiness--a new car, a new house, a different job, a raise, or maybe even a soul mate.  When I use the term "intention," this is decidedly not what I mean.

To me, "intention" is sacred. To live with intention means to align with and act from purpose--what each of us comes into the world to be.  Think of intention as a contract we agreed to before coming into this world. Living with intention is acting, moment by moment, in accordance with guidance from our hearts about that intention.

I have a picture in my mind of each soul, before taking human form, sitting with the power of Love, looking out with legs dangling over something that looks like the Grand Canyon, and having a conversation that might go like this one that I think I had.

Me: "I'd like to go into the world as a human being, so that I may evolve my soul."
Love: "What lessons do you wish to learn on this journey?"
Me: "There are many, but I believe the most important ones for me are to receive love, to keep commitments, and to persevere with love...to have faith...in the face of overwhelming challenges."
Love: "Those are powerful lessons.  They are also ones that are important in evolving the world, too. You know that is a great privilege to take human form to learn these spiritual lessons."
Me: "I do.  I am ready to pay for that privilege."
Love: "The people in the world have forgotten that they are spiritual beings intended to connect through love.  You would perform great service by helping them remember that."
Me: "That is service that I will commit to performing."
Love: "There is another piece to it.  The people of the world seem to forget most who they are when they are at work.  Your service would be especially great if you would help them remember who they are at work."
Me: "I will do that."
Love: "Thank you for your willingness to do that work."
Me: "It is a privilege."
Love: "Now you know that you will receive special gifts and talents to help you do this work.  What gifts and talents would you like?"
Me: "Hmmm.  Language--the ability to use language to touch people and to help them remember who they are.  That would be one.  And, the ability to understand people when they are at work--to know what causes them to forget who they are. Finally, of course, the ability to remember who I am when I am in work settings."
Love: "Those are good ones.  We--the collected souls--would like to throw in some others, but especially 'dance.'"
Me: "Dance? I don't understand."
Love: "You don't need to understand, but it will speak to you and you will learn from it."
Me: "These will be my intentions.  They will be written on the back side of my heart, and I will tune in to listen to where they lead me."
Love: "You will do well."

Each of us had a different "conversation," but we all made commitments.  Our unique and special "recipe" for this life is written on our hearts.  The intentions that we agreed to before taking human form are the only intentions that are important. Listening to our hearts keeps us on track.  Yet we will almost never (maybe never, but I don't know that) be told in one fell swoop what the whole plan is or even why we are to do what we are to do.  We will be guided, one step at a time.

The magnitude of millions of steps accomplishes miracles, making the impossible possible.

The Sleeping State That Men Call Waking

I want to start this post with an apology.  On behalf of all the spiritual writers, myself included among them, who make it sound like evolving oneself is easy, I want to say "I'm sorry."  It isn't.  For those of us who work full-time, have household and family responsibilities, and hope just every now and then to do something that is fun, staying present can be exceedingly hard.  Without being awake, we cannot do any of the things that will evolve us spiritually, which may explain why so many writers across the centuries have indicated that being conscious is the most important thing to the spiritual journey.

When I had my business, I worked way more hours than I do now, but I was driving the car called my life.  If I wanted to take a little extra time to connect with a clerk in the store, I didn't have a boss waiting to say I was AWOL (absent without leave) because I was a few minutes late. If I wanted to take extra time to workout and de-stress during my lunch hour or even linger longer enjoying the sun, I knew my trade-off was working later, and I could make that trade. It was wrong of me to have written with a "just-do-it" tone.  I had just forgotten how hard it is to be present when life is framed by the expectations of others.

During the week, it feels like I step on a treadmill that goes faster and faster until I drop off exhausted at the end of the week...and I don't even have kids to pick up and drop off at school and a host of growth activities.  (My hat's off to those of you who have those things in your daily routine.)

I didn't totally go to sleep today because I remembered after two opportunities that I'd missed that I didn't make the heart connection for The Grocery Store Game (10/25/13.)  I celebrate that I didn't just snooze through the whole opportunity.   Even when I threw a couple dollars in a busker's case, I did so as I walked by rather than making a connection. However, I stopped at an art exhibit on the way home from work, and I did remember to make connection there. Yeah!!

The Hindu sacred text the Upanishads refers to "the sleeping state that men call waking."  When I first read it, a stunned knowing came over me.  "Yes! That is exactly what it is like," I thought.  I am walking around, and most people observing me would say I am awake.  I even believe myself to be awake. Yet as I autopilot through life, I really am asleep at the wheel of this car called my life.  I snooze through opportunities to connect.  I doze through appreciating the wonder around me. I forget to feel  gratitude for all the gifts with which I am blessed.  I miss the opportunity to show true appreciation to the busker singing a great rendition of "Hotel California."

In my effort to truly show up for my life, one time I put random reminders on my Outlook calendar  to remind me to wake up, but I became so accustomed to them that I began to sleep through them as well.

So, I am sorry for making this journey to consciousness seem easy.  I find solace that at least back as far as 2,600 years when the Upanishads were written, men and women have struggled to stay awake.  For that 2,600 years, people like you and me have shared "the sleeping state that men call waking," and they have periodically actually been awake.  For that, we can celebrate. 

And, each day we begin anew on the journey to the waking state that men call waking.  I like to think that suddenly one day, it will just happen--being awake, that is.  I will go through a whole day, totally attuned to what is going on around me.  Until then, I will be delighted at widening the margins on my autopilot life.  Ten percent one day, and maybe 25 the next.  Though I may backslide, as I clearly have done, holding the intention of moving to higher levels of consciousness feels to me like real progress.

BEing the Nature of God

Back in the day when I owned an automobile, I enjoyed taking road trips.  As I drove alone down the highway, I often slipped into repeating a mantra or affirmation of something I wanted to bring into my life.  I would repeat it hundreds of times during my trip.  What was quite remarkable was how often a deeper level of understanding would just gently float into my awareness during the repetitions--Aha! moments. 

I really don't remember what the mantra that generated it was, but I do recall having a thought toward the end of a trip about 15 years ago that continues to both inspire and terrify me.  The thought was that the only way humans have to experience God is through each other.  If we want others to know God's Love, we need to demonstrate it to them: they will know it through our behaviors.  If we want others to know God's Forgiveness, we need to demonstrate it to them: they will know it through our behaviors.  God Nature is reflected through each of us to all human kind.

What a concept!  That I could allow everyone with whom I come in touch to experience God by how I relate to them is inspiring me.  I hope that it is equally clear why that is so terrifying.  As much as I try, I know the frequency with which my behaviors reflect what I want others to know of God isn't near what I would like it to be. I think that I am usually a good person, but I do get irritable and impatient from time to time.  Perhaps even more embarrassing is how much of my life proceeds on autopilot.  I'd hate to think that God puts us on autopilot.  Even more uncomfortable for me, the author of a book about "BEing" is how often I "do" things with people instead of "BE" with them. 

Since retyping The Game Called Life a couple weeks ago, this whole thing about BEing the Nature of God has been with me.  What "floated in" today is not how I reflect God (though for me that is still a concern,) but how I receive God from others.  In my autopiloting through life what wonders that God wanted to share with me have I blown off because I wasn't paying attention.  In my "doingness" how often have I missed the opportunity to "just BE" with God through another human being who is reflecting the nature of God.

Today I have new understanding of the Sanskrit greeting--"Namaste," still used in India and Nepal. "I bow to the God within you."  When I bow to the God within you, and you bow to the God within me, it is said, "We are One."  What if I just took responsibility both to be a reflection of the Nature of God and to be present to the reflection of the Nature of God in those around me?  What a ripple I could create.

Being

Yesterday I wrote about being present--being fully where we are when we are there.  As I've continued to ponder "being present," I am brought back to one of my favorite topics: being.  Leading from the Heart, my first book, was about our being: who each of us is, stripped away from the "having" and "doing."

Sometimes I have waves of "knowing" when something seems perfectly clear for the first time, and then I realize I had known that before.  So it is with "being" today.  I had this realization that "being" is looking inwardly to listen, feel, and hear who we are.  Earlier I spoke  (Beginning Again, 9/22/13) about the message, etched on the back of each of our hearts, that we brought into this life.  When we are "being," we are attuned to that message.  We may not be able to articulate what it is, but we "know" who we are and why we are here.  It is the internal of "being present," except that this "being present" is being present to this moment on the inside.

Then, I realized that is what I wrote in Leading from the Heart.  I've known it for at least 20 years.  But I also knew it 15 years ago when I wrote Choice Point and 11 years ago when I was writing The Game Called Life.  Why does it suddenly seem like such a spiritual breakthrough?  Because I am writing again?  When I am writing, what I know in my heart pours onto the page without passing through my brain.  I think what is different this time is that I seemed to really "get it" without my keyboard.  It was just there when I was making a salad for lunch, and it was there when I was watching something on TV, and it was still there when I awakened from my nap.

When I am present to what I know in my heart, I am perfectly attuned to the larger "I Am," a knowing of what we all know when we are in the ribbon of love that connects us, heart to heart, across time and space.  I suspect that it is part of the universal message that we all know in our hearts, but maybe it is my message to bring to the world.  Or maybe when I bring it to the world, others will awaken to that universal message. 

There is a line in the Hindu sacred text The Upanishads about "the sleeping state that men call waking."  I was struck speechless when I read it for the first time.  We autopilot through life, moving about as if we are awake, but really we are in some kind of trance.  It is only in the moments when we choose to "be present" to the world around us or "be" present to our hearts that we are really awake.  We re-member our purpose, and we find the courage to be it. Now. Being...in the present.