I haven't seen "my babies" since January. They aren't really my babies, but the two- and five-year-old girls currently on their way to my home won my heart at birth--theirs, not mine. Between constraints on each end, it has been way too long since I've seen them. We planned this visit months ago. As the time has approach, my anticipation has increased. Over the last week, I've gotten more and more excited. If I calculate properly, they are probably 30 minutes away, and I am beside myself.
Years ago I heard that half the fun of a trip was planning. I am not a planner, and I really love being spontaneous on trips. Yet, I am fully aware that some of my best travel adventures are the result of enough research to figure out where the potential awaited. As my life has become more and more harried, my planning and research for trips has gotten shorter and shorter.
A doctor's appointment the day before my first trip to Italy resulted in a two-hour round trip Metro ride from the office and back, giving me my first two hours of "research." On the way out that morning, I'd grabbed one of the tourist guides that I'd acquired months early but hadn't opened. As I chugged from one end of the Metro almost to the other, I read about Ravenna, the birthplace of mosaics. On a whim, my friend and I drove across the boot of Italy for an amazing two days in Ravenna. We wouldn't have wanted to miss it, but for my doctor's appointment, we wouldn't have known what it offered.
On my way to Spain two years ago, I started my research on the plane east to Europe. I was so busy getting things under control before my vacation that I just didn't think I had time...until I was on my way. I was packing on my way out the door, too.
I know that this will be a wonderful weekend, but I also know how much fun the planning has been. Looking forward to their faces...planning and preparing special foods that I think the family will like...picking a special Chianti Classico to share with their dad...thinking about what I think the family will enjoy on their visit to DC. It's been wonderful.
The really amazing thing to me is how in my body I've been today. I should have worked, but I didn't. When their departure was delayed, I could have worked, but decided not to. I wanted to fully anticipate the visit. I made preparations, but mostly I anticipated the joy of their hugs, giggles and squeals, and passion. My heart has gotten bigger and bigger.
I just got a text that they are on the beltway. I feel giddy: like a young girl in love. Actually, I think that I am: I am in love with these girls, and I am totally enjoying the experience of anticipating them. My heart felt bigger and fluttery. There was a tickle in my throat and even some butterflies in my stomach as I anticipated.
This day has been rich because I've allowed myself to feel the joy of anticipation. As I think back about trips when I took time and space for anticipation, there was much more excitement. The last few vacations I've taken have felt very matter of fact and rushed because I have forgotten or lost the power of anticipation.
This fall I am going to Greece. There have been two guide books on my desk for almost two months. Until this moment, when I opened one to see the date on the receipt, I hadn't opened either. Today, it dawned on me how much I've been missing by not consciously making time to prepare for my trips. I will do so, I promise.
In the meantime, I've received a call from the girls' mother that they are here. Now is time to switch from anticipation to full-on enjoyment.
Showing posts with label heart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heart. Show all posts
Friday, August 8, 2014
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Everything is Planned to Teach Me Love
Some days as I go through my affirmations, one will particularly resonate with me, and then it hangs in the back of my mind all day. Today when I got to "Everything is planned to teach me love," the statement wouldn't let go of me and whispered to me all day.
Even before I got to the office, I was pondering, "Why does something need to teach me love?" The immediate answer seemed to be that I don't know love. When I focus on breathing into my heart, I am sure the "vibration" that I feel is God's love. By extension, since I believe that we are all connected through God's love, I am sure that it should be the same or similar.
Yet, I don't know that I've experienced that feeling with any human being when I know I should feel it with all human beings. Hmmm... Maybe I don't know love, or don't know how to feel love. Or, just maybe, I've guarded myself so that I shut others out. Ouch! That again.
I believe that part of our basic equipment as humans is to be able to give and receive love. Is it possible that my equipment is so under-used and rusted that it has forgotten what is basically human?
One of my favorite little books is one that has been around for awhile, called The Knight in Rusty Armor (Robert Fisher.) The book relates a parable about a knight who has lived in his armor so long that he can no longer take it off at the end of the day when he is done doing battle. Only when he weeps at not being able to hug his family do his tears cause pieces of his armor to drop off.
I sense his experience may be similar to what occurs to well guarded hearts, like mine. I haven't cried...yet. I have been overwhelmed with a deep sense of loss about all the people I have "loved" intellectually in my life but for whom I have thought it was just too risky to really open my heart. Well, I didn't really "think" the risk part in a conscious sort of way. I am pretty certain, though, that it was happening in a less-than-conscious way. Now I realize that whatever damage I thought might be done to my heart could only be exceed by the sadness at not having really let "my people" in.
I feel like a toddler at this, taking my first wobbly steps. I am certain that I need something to hang onto as I steady myself, and my heart tells me that something will be God's love--it will be my compass teaching me love.
Even before I got to the office, I was pondering, "Why does something need to teach me love?" The immediate answer seemed to be that I don't know love. When I focus on breathing into my heart, I am sure the "vibration" that I feel is God's love. By extension, since I believe that we are all connected through God's love, I am sure that it should be the same or similar.
Yet, I don't know that I've experienced that feeling with any human being when I know I should feel it with all human beings. Hmmm... Maybe I don't know love, or don't know how to feel love. Or, just maybe, I've guarded myself so that I shut others out. Ouch! That again.
I believe that part of our basic equipment as humans is to be able to give and receive love. Is it possible that my equipment is so under-used and rusted that it has forgotten what is basically human?
One of my favorite little books is one that has been around for awhile, called The Knight in Rusty Armor (Robert Fisher.) The book relates a parable about a knight who has lived in his armor so long that he can no longer take it off at the end of the day when he is done doing battle. Only when he weeps at not being able to hug his family do his tears cause pieces of his armor to drop off.
I sense his experience may be similar to what occurs to well guarded hearts, like mine. I haven't cried...yet. I have been overwhelmed with a deep sense of loss about all the people I have "loved" intellectually in my life but for whom I have thought it was just too risky to really open my heart. Well, I didn't really "think" the risk part in a conscious sort of way. I am pretty certain, though, that it was happening in a less-than-conscious way. Now I realize that whatever damage I thought might be done to my heart could only be exceed by the sadness at not having really let "my people" in.
I feel like a toddler at this, taking my first wobbly steps. I am certain that I need something to hang onto as I steady myself, and my heart tells me that something will be God's love--it will be my compass teaching me love.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
The Peace That Passes All Understanding
As I was making myself something for dinner this evening, I began to think about what I might write in my blog tonight. Well, of course, that is all wrong. There I go thinking again: my writing is supposed to come from my heart and not my head.
Nonetheless, almost like an earworm, for the last 90 minutes, the phrase from the Christian New Testament of Philippians "the peace that passes all understanding" has been playing over and over again, echoing behind cooking sounds, the radio, the TV, and even as I ran water to wash my face and brush my teeth.
"The peace that passes all understanding." I thought it was a topic. Now, my heart knows it is a process. Just allow myself to sink into peace and let the words flow through me. Why the repetition? It was almost as if my soul was meditating me instead of me meditating. I've often talked with coaching clients about letting their prayers pray them. Like a mantra, the phrase "the peace that passes all understanding" meditated me.
The point of letting prayers pray us is to just listen deeply to what our soul wants to pray and to let go of the clutter with which our brains would clutter our communication channels. When I've prayed this way with clients, it is very slow, and the words just gently float out. Mostly what floats out are words of gratitude, and gratitude for such little things that most of us would never think to include in our prayers. It has been such a long time since I've let my prayers pray me. I think it is time. Our souls are so wise.
Nonetheless, almost like an earworm, for the last 90 minutes, the phrase from the Christian New Testament of Philippians "the peace that passes all understanding" has been playing over and over again, echoing behind cooking sounds, the radio, the TV, and even as I ran water to wash my face and brush my teeth.
"The peace that passes all understanding." I thought it was a topic. Now, my heart knows it is a process. Just allow myself to sink into peace and let the words flow through me. Why the repetition? It was almost as if my soul was meditating me instead of me meditating. I've often talked with coaching clients about letting their prayers pray them. Like a mantra, the phrase "the peace that passes all understanding" meditated me.
The point of letting prayers pray us is to just listen deeply to what our soul wants to pray and to let go of the clutter with which our brains would clutter our communication channels. When I've prayed this way with clients, it is very slow, and the words just gently float out. Mostly what floats out are words of gratitude, and gratitude for such little things that most of us would never think to include in our prayers. It has been such a long time since I've let my prayers pray me. I think it is time. Our souls are so wise.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Birthing the Intentions of Spring
After a week typing it and completing the first proofreading of The Game Called Life manuscript yesterday, I decided I needed to do something different today. With a steady downpour outside, a long walk was not an option I chose.
My desk is stacked and sadly overflowing, so cleaning my desk seemed in order. I've been at it for about five hours now, and I can truthfully say that I cannot tell that I've done anything. Really! Much of the sorting that I've been doing has been turning handwritten notes from meditations and retreats into word documents that I could file and refer to. Other pages in the stacks have been thoughts for various books that I am working on.
Among the pages of notes, I found intentions for the rest of the year from my spring retreat. While I am still without a life partner again for almost 20 years, I am amazed at how much on the list is gradually becoming reality. The summer must have been a germination period, because since my mid-September retreat and thanks to both this blog and the government shutdown and my furlough, my intentions have been in fast-forward. Making a contribution to the healing of the world, using my voice, and writing daily have become a reality. I hope this blog is making a difference, and I am confident that when The Game Called Life is an e-book, it will dramatically contribute to the healing of our world.
At the end of the page of intentions, I had printed in larger letters "WHAT IS MY INTENTION?" I believe that referred to what my single underlying intention was from all the others. I had a drawing and the words "living at the choice point." Choice Point is a book that I wrote in the late 90s but has never been published. It is about living in conscious communion, moment-by-moment, with All That Is. For me that means, following what I know to be true in my heart. I call the process "living a prayer." As I looked over the list, it was true: the only way I could do anything on the list is by living a prayer.
I definitely am not there, but I am markedly farther along than I was six months ago when I wrote this. I truly believe that I have planted seeds over the summer and in this furlough that predict I will be still farther along the path when I cross the one-year anniversary of my last spring retreat. And, that's what it is all about--consciously attempting to do better and better at living a spiritually rich life. In my heart I know that is where I am intended to be.
My desk is stacked and sadly overflowing, so cleaning my desk seemed in order. I've been at it for about five hours now, and I can truthfully say that I cannot tell that I've done anything. Really! Much of the sorting that I've been doing has been turning handwritten notes from meditations and retreats into word documents that I could file and refer to. Other pages in the stacks have been thoughts for various books that I am working on.
Among the pages of notes, I found intentions for the rest of the year from my spring retreat. While I am still without a life partner again for almost 20 years, I am amazed at how much on the list is gradually becoming reality. The summer must have been a germination period, because since my mid-September retreat and thanks to both this blog and the government shutdown and my furlough, my intentions have been in fast-forward. Making a contribution to the healing of the world, using my voice, and writing daily have become a reality. I hope this blog is making a difference, and I am confident that when The Game Called Life is an e-book, it will dramatically contribute to the healing of our world.
At the end of the page of intentions, I had printed in larger letters "WHAT IS MY INTENTION?" I believe that referred to what my single underlying intention was from all the others. I had a drawing and the words "living at the choice point." Choice Point is a book that I wrote in the late 90s but has never been published. It is about living in conscious communion, moment-by-moment, with All That Is. For me that means, following what I know to be true in my heart. I call the process "living a prayer." As I looked over the list, it was true: the only way I could do anything on the list is by living a prayer.
I definitely am not there, but I am markedly farther along than I was six months ago when I wrote this. I truly believe that I have planted seeds over the summer and in this furlough that predict I will be still farther along the path when I cross the one-year anniversary of my last spring retreat. And, that's what it is all about--consciously attempting to do better and better at living a spiritually rich life. In my heart I know that is where I am intended to be.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Spiritual discipline
I know that I said yesterday that today I was going to write about what happens when I don't ask and/or don't listen to my guidance. However, my guidance today was to write something different.
Today a passage of scripture from the Christian New Testament Gospel of Luke (17:1-4) guided worship. At the beginning of the passage, The Teacher talks about forgiveness. The lesson says that if someone transgresses against us even as many as seven times in a day and asks for forgiveness that we are to forgive them.
A couple days ago I wrote about doing the first two parts of a forgiveness exercise. I forgave those that I felt I needed to forgive, but I am certain that several of them would not have asked for forgiveness. Yet, I have forgiven them, and that I am not carrying resentment any longer is a gift for me. I also meditationally asked others for forgiveness. Since I was asking, I assume that qualifies me for forgiveness.
In each of those exercises what was amazing was that as soon as forgiveness was given either way, there would be a wave of positive memories about that person, which the lack of forgiveness had blocked. As I worked through the list, my heart felt more and more full. I realize that the lesson today really was about opening our hearts. No matter how many times that we must forgive, doing so is a gift we give ourselves--the gift of the open heart.
What I haven't written about was the third part of the exercise, which I completed a day later. The third column was comprised of things for which I needed to forgive myself. As I thought about that list this morning, I recalled the impatience I felt about needing to forgive myself for the umpteenth time for not asking for guidance before I did something, not following the guidance I got, or following the guidance when it was so delinquent that it no longer had efficacy.
It is much easier for me to forgive people who have done some pretty nasty things to me than it was to forgive myself. Many of the times that I'd forgotten to check in with my heart occurred months or years apart. Could I forgive myself seven times in a day?
The word "discipline" derives from the Greek for "disciple" which means "student." A spiritual discipline implies that it is our way of learning to be closer to our spirits. For me, that means following what is written on my heart and messaged to me through listening to my heart.
I realize that I have an unduly harsh standard for myself when it comes to being a spiritual student. Somehow, even though I know we are all beginners, I expect myself to be perfect. However, the word "sin" was an archery term which meant the archer missed the bulls-eye: missed the mark. The implication was that the archer needed to adjust his/her aim. "Sin" isn't an arbitrary standard of judgment but rather a teaching term about how to get it better--not perfect--the next time. That is what a spiritual discipline is about: aiming over and again until we hit the mark.
Now I realize that I did end up writing about what happens when I didn't follow my guidance, but it hasn't ended up looking like I expected. That is what happens when we listen to the wisdom of our hearts.
Yes, I have failed to ask for guidance from my heart, and I have failed to follow in a timely way. The results weren't as rewarding as those I wrote about yesterday and hundreds of other stories I could have written. AND, I have aimed again. Now, I will recall that I should have forgive me...even seven times a day, if needed.
Ahhh!
Today a passage of scripture from the Christian New Testament Gospel of Luke (17:1-4) guided worship. At the beginning of the passage, The Teacher talks about forgiveness. The lesson says that if someone transgresses against us even as many as seven times in a day and asks for forgiveness that we are to forgive them.
A couple days ago I wrote about doing the first two parts of a forgiveness exercise. I forgave those that I felt I needed to forgive, but I am certain that several of them would not have asked for forgiveness. Yet, I have forgiven them, and that I am not carrying resentment any longer is a gift for me. I also meditationally asked others for forgiveness. Since I was asking, I assume that qualifies me for forgiveness.
In each of those exercises what was amazing was that as soon as forgiveness was given either way, there would be a wave of positive memories about that person, which the lack of forgiveness had blocked. As I worked through the list, my heart felt more and more full. I realize that the lesson today really was about opening our hearts. No matter how many times that we must forgive, doing so is a gift we give ourselves--the gift of the open heart.
What I haven't written about was the third part of the exercise, which I completed a day later. The third column was comprised of things for which I needed to forgive myself. As I thought about that list this morning, I recalled the impatience I felt about needing to forgive myself for the umpteenth time for not asking for guidance before I did something, not following the guidance I got, or following the guidance when it was so delinquent that it no longer had efficacy.
It is much easier for me to forgive people who have done some pretty nasty things to me than it was to forgive myself. Many of the times that I'd forgotten to check in with my heart occurred months or years apart. Could I forgive myself seven times in a day?
The word "discipline" derives from the Greek for "disciple" which means "student." A spiritual discipline implies that it is our way of learning to be closer to our spirits. For me, that means following what is written on my heart and messaged to me through listening to my heart.
I realize that I have an unduly harsh standard for myself when it comes to being a spiritual student. Somehow, even though I know we are all beginners, I expect myself to be perfect. However, the word "sin" was an archery term which meant the archer missed the bulls-eye: missed the mark. The implication was that the archer needed to adjust his/her aim. "Sin" isn't an arbitrary standard of judgment but rather a teaching term about how to get it better--not perfect--the next time. That is what a spiritual discipline is about: aiming over and again until we hit the mark.
Now I realize that I did end up writing about what happens when I didn't follow my guidance, but it hasn't ended up looking like I expected. That is what happens when we listen to the wisdom of our hearts.
Yes, I have failed to ask for guidance from my heart, and I have failed to follow in a timely way. The results weren't as rewarding as those I wrote about yesterday and hundreds of other stories I could have written. AND, I have aimed again. Now, I will recall that I should have forgive me...even seven times a day, if needed.
Ahhh!
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