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.

Feeling Our Prayers

Prayer--communion with God. Ahh! Just being with those words makes my heart "vibrate" with warmth. Prayer is a two-way communication with the divine, but deeper and more consuming of our total presence.

It is not always so.  As children, we spilled out the words, "God is great. God is good. And we thank him for our food," by rote and quickly at that, lest the food get cold in the few seconds they took. 

And, there is the "Lord's Prayer," which many of us have said so many times that we don't even think about the words, much less feel them.  When we pray the Lord's Prayer together in church, more often than not, if seems to me as if the congregation is racing through the words without even pausing for a comma much less to put feeling in them.

Several years ago, I studied the "Lord's Prayer" in Aramaic, the original language of the prayer.  Since then, at least once each day, I say the prayer in Aramaic. When I first started, the prayer was slow and thoughtful, as I remembered the richness and complexity of the words in the original language.  Sadly, the Aramaic words now spill out as thoughtlessly as the English version does most of the time.

After making my blog post last night, I felt my prayers.  Why on one particular night did I feel my prayers?  Perhaps it was the intensity of the visits to the war memorials that slowed me down or maybe it was the realization of the multi-generational pain of which I've been a part because of those wars.  Whatever the reason, I had really felt the presence of the divine in my heart yesterday.  As I prayed, I felt my prayers.  It is a profound experience to really feel prayer.

The words were really irrelevant.  In my heart, I could feel love, ebbing and flowing with my breathing. I actually felt bringing more love into the world so there would be less pain, loss, and grief.  Today I've felt love, warmth and mercy being wrapped around me like a warm blanket on this cold and windy night.  I feel the relaxation that comes with spiritual surrender. I will feel grateful as I write my gratitude journal, sending prayers of thanks.  I will feel delight as I express gratitude that I can wiggle my fingers and toes.  I will feel the reality of my affirmations as I say them.

I am quite confident that this is how we are in communion with God, the divine, all there is, or whatever term you prefer.  This is how we say to God, this is what I intend to receive into my life.  How often though I have prayed out of fear or anger, and fear and anger were the messages that I communed to God.  Just thinking about it breaks my heart, but in its breaking open, I also send a prayer. Our feelings are the messages we send to God.  If fear and anger are prayers, then so much more are joy, peace, and love prayers. 

I am not sure if God even hears those rote prayers; of course, I am not sure that God doesn't hear them either.  However, I am certain that when we are present to what we are feeling, we can be intentional about our prayers.  A happy thought can be a prayer. A smile may also be a prayer.  Delight is most certainly a prayer.  Playing the Grocery Store Game can be prayer. Each moment we pray.  Consciousness allows us to decide what we will pray and then really be present to the prayer.

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.

The Grocery Store Game

Back in the day when I was conducting Intentional Living Intensives with clients, I often encouraged them to play a game that I used to play.  It is a most enlightening (literally) game.  Last night after writing in this blog about connecting, heart to heart, with people one at a time, I was reminded of the game that I haven't played for years.  I decided to try it again. 

Here's how to play.  The purpose of the game it to make a heart connection with people that are often "invisible" in our lives.  They are grocery checkers, waiters, sales clerks, taxi drivers, baristas, the receptionist in a doctor's office, and anyone else with whom we transact business, often so closely that the only thing that separates us is the thickness of a dollar bill or credit card receipt, but most of the time we don't really see them.

In order to make a connection, it is essential that the "player" be focused only on the object of our heart connection.  Slowing down is essential. Eye contact helps. Most of them are not accustomed to being noticed, so it is important to just allow them time to be noticed.  The words that I exchange are said in a way that says I really mean them and not the typical, "Have a good day," said to lots of people without really thinking about them.  "You've been most helpful today.  I really appreciate it."  Often, at that point, they will break into a smile, but they will give you some indication that you've made a connection.  You've scored in The Grocery Store Game. 

I encouraged clients to make at least one connection each day to start with and to work up to the point where they made a connection at every transaction point.  When we "compared notes," what I often heard was they started out thinking they were going to do something for people in their transactions.  To a person, my clients ended up finding the connection was a gift to themselves.

Like my clients, I remember how good it used to feel to walk away from the check stand with my heart vibrating from that connection. I also remember how stress-reducing those encounters were.  They forced me to stop, still my mind and be present. How did I let that slip?  I'm not sure, but as I went to bed last night, I decided it was time to start playing again.

My day started with a smartphone which wouldn't work and me running late to a doctor's appointment, so I admit that I missed several opportunities in the doctor's office and the first two shopping stops before I was jarred from my autopilot life.  But as I set out to visit my service provider on the first of two visits, a little bell went off: this will be an opportunity to connect. 

When I was assigned to a technician, I recognized him from a couple earlier visits more than a year ago.  Before we talked about my problem, I took a moment to say I remembered how helpful he had been in the past and how grateful I was that I had the opportunity to have him support me again.  He looked delighted that I had not only remembered him, but had remembered that he had given me good service.

Sadly, the first visit didn't solve my problem, but when I went back, I used the opportunity to make another connection.  This was a much longer visit, and when I arrived at 6:30 p.m., I was tired, hungry, and frustrated. But to make the connection, I had to let go of all that. I just relaxed and partnered with this technician.  When I finally left at least an hour later, I looked her in the eyes and thanked her for being so helpful.  I said it had been a frustrating day, and she had made this very easy for me.  (My frustrating day!  Really!  This girl had been dealing with frustrated customers all day.)

She looked me right back in the eyes and started to tell me how much she'd enjoyed working with me. Then she went on to tell me how much I reminded her of her mother and how much she loved her mother.  The encounter ended with tears trying to well in her eyes.  When I left, I was still tired and hungry, but instead of the frustration I'd felt earlier, I just felt warm all over.  There was a spring in my step.  Life is good, and I like to think that both of us spread love out into the world around us.

Living with ambiguity

I passed through the front door of my agency tonight after staying a bit late to finish up some details.  I pulled my rolling briefcase, loaded with computer and files, as well as things I'd cleaned out of the office refrigerator.  Will I or won't I?  That was the question.  I work for the federal government and as our fearless congressional leaders play with our lives, those of us whose jobs may dissolve at the stroke of midnight mostly just want to serve our mission.  Will I be able to do my job or won't I?  Will I have a job tomorrow or won't I?  Will I get paid or won't I?

By the time I reached the Metro station a block away, I was in another place.  I am living with ambiguity today and, if truth be known, always.  Most of the time our minds convince us that we know what we are doing and what is going on around us.  Truth be known: we can't possibly know.  Ever. 

Ambiguity is mystery. God is mystery. The more uncertain we are, the closer we are to God.  As my walking meditation continued, I asked myself what I thought was a rhetorical question: if I am being my most whole, how do I navigate ambiguity?  But instead of lingering without answer, the answer was there in an instant.  "Be present." 

Oh, that again.  There is a pattern here.

I knew in an instant that the answer was right. Just float in the now and then check in with the heart. The answer is always right.  We don't need to know what is going on around us; we just need to know that answer inside of us will tell us what we need to know next.

My day has been long, and I am tired.  As I prepare to go to bed, I don't know whether I will go to work tomorrow or if I will go to work for a week or even several weeks.  I don't know whether I will have money to buy groceries or not.  I do know one thing: I don't need to know.  I just need to be present...and listen.

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.