Sometime in the last month, I heard an interview with comedian and now dramatic actor Bill Murray. In it he related that he had lost his smart phone recently and described how liberating it had been. He said, "The things you usually do get in the way of better things you could be or should be doing."
I am not sure I could live with out my smartphone, and yet, I really understand what he was saying. I love reading The Washington Post on my phone on the way to and from work. It is great to catch up on my email on the train so when I get home, I can devote my attention to other endeavors. The reminders of birthdays and special events have prevented me from missing landmarks. My calendar gets me where I am "supposed to be" more often than not. The My Fitness Pal app has helped me lose 15 pounds this year. I've even been learning Spanish as I walk and ride about.
Yet while there is immeasurable value in my smartphone, so much is lost along the way, and I think that is what Murray was relating. Pre-device days, I used to actually have conversations with strangers on the train. Some would share funny stories or new pieces of music they had discovered. When I was looking for a job, a man once told me about one in his agency that might be a good fit. Now, everyone is hunkered over their device with ear buds in place. With the exception of an occasional pair that get on the train together, I almost never see anyone talking these days. So among those better things we could or should be doing, connecting with our fellow humans might be one.
The concept of my book Choice Point was to be totally present in the moment and choose second to second what we should be doing in that moment. While there are days, like this one, when I unplug most of the time, when I find myself doing what Murray described, I stop letting the things I usually do get in the way of what I could/should be doing. I just listen...to my body, to my heart, and to my inspirations.
As I went to bed last night, I had several things that I wanted to do today, beginning with going to church. Generally, on the weekend, I don't set my alarm, and most of the time I wake up after about eight or nine hours of sleep. I find it delicious to wake up on my own though, even if I am not sleeping a lot more. Last night I slept 10-1/2 hours, which meant that I missed church. It also meant that my body must need more rest. I allowed this day to be one of those days in which I did what I could/should be doing--what I knew in my heart, instead of what I usually did--what was programmed into my schedule.
I did enjoyed time in the kitchen, something that I usually do, but also something I love. Then I turned my schedule upside down and meditated for a couple of hours, gaining clear insight on something with which I've been wrestling. I dug out my hard copy of Choice Point because I haven't read it in a while, and in my meditation, I got that it was time to revisit the book. While I know there is rewriting needed, my sense is that this visit is for my personal spiritual learning I need. So the day is some, but not earth-shatteringly different. Yet, I feel so much freer by having listened to my internal compass as opposed to responding to reminders and habits driven by my smart phone.
Showing posts with label listening to God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label listening to God. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Monday, September 29, 2014
Listening Deeply
Readers: please note that this post should have been posted early. My challenges with technology resulted in it laying in drafts. I hope it will provide continuity to this current pilgrimage that may have been missing.
From sometime in 1995 or 1996 until June 1998, I frequently heard messages in my meditations that I should go to a country in which English was not a dominant language. I was to take no credit cards and very little cash. I was to take one carry-on bag and to follow where I was led. Mostly, I ignored.
Those were days when I was writing and generating more outflow than income. Even though I was to take little cash and no credit cards, I thought I couldn't afford such a venture.
In June of 1998 I worked a conference in Greece--very, very long hours. After four days, the conference moved from Athens to the Greek island of Rhodes late at night. I was fatigued and almost immediately fell asleep. Suddenly, I was awakened by a booming voice. It repeated the messages I'd been getting, but this time with more specificity. "You are to come back to Greece before summer's end...with little cash and no credit cards." More details followed.
Awakened from a deep sleep, I sat bolt up in my plane seat. Looking around at a sea of sleeping passengers, I was shocked that I appeared to be the only one awakened by the commanding voice.
Really?!
I got it. When I returned from my business trip, I immediately made air reservations to return for 30 days, the minimum time for which I'd been directed. I'd been given a number of other details, to which I rendered complete attention. The rest amounted to nothing less than a mystical adventure, much more of which will be detailed in my memoir. Suffice it to say, I've never been the same since that journey.
In early spring of this year, I was exhausted and began shopping for a trip. I am a bargain/adventure traveler, since 1998 most often traveling to a foreign airport and going wherever spirit leads. For weeks I shopped travel sites, looking for bargain air fares. In at least two months, the best fares kept coming up to Athens.
I wasn't sure that I was ready for what another Greek adventure promised. Finally, I relented. As soon as I booked, a plethora of other destinations presented, so I was certain I was supposed to be in Greece again.
Three months ago I picked up two travel guides to Greece, but was totally uninterested in them until three weeks ago. Somehow I knew it would be clear to me where to go.
On more than one occasion, I've heard the big booming directive; those are easy for me to follow. Harder are the subtler signs. I've written at length about how guidance comes to us, but over the last several days, I've thought I was receiving contradictory messages. I talked with a friend about which was true. I prayed about it yet no clarity came.
I've written that when several people give similar advice, it is probably more than human advice. Four people have urged specifically that I go to Crete and Santorini. Those two islands from more than 300 Greek islands. Yet that just didn't seem right.
Then three weeks ago I found a note from a friend, written in 1998, urging me to go to Galaxidhi at that time. I swear that I don't remember ever seeing the note before. Was finding it now "a sign?" I went to the referenced website, but it didn't seem quite right either.
For several years, I've thought of going to the Peloponnese. Galaxidhi was close, but not quite right. When I read about the Peloponnese in my guide books, two little towns jumped off the pages. One of my friends, who had urged Crete and Santorini, told me I didn't want to go there. I have just let decisions go, being certain that "where" would be clear to me when I needed to know.
Friday I traveled to Athens. I don't sleep in planes so Saturday evening I fell into bed at 8, some 37 hours without sleep. I had no idea what was next, but as I fell asleep, I set the intention that I would know in the morning.
I awakened slightly at 6 this morning, long enough to "rest" myself and fall back asleep, but with no clarity yet as to where I was to go. At 10:15, after the long sleep for which my body yearned, I sat right up in bed, and in an instant I knew where I was to go: the two towns in the Peloponnese that I'd felt were right in the beginning.
I jumped up and looked in the guidebook for commuting details. I quickly gathered my things, got directions to the bus terminal, and sped off, arriving at my bus just 8 minutes before it departed.
After just a few hours here, I know this is right. I do not know what else awaits me on this peninsula-turned-island, but I know enough that I can feel in my bones that what I knew in my heart from the beginning is right. I literally "fell" into a little hotel with a lovely garden this afternoon shortly after arriving. I think I will extend for another day, but that won't be clear until morning. I'm OK with that.
As I surrender my need to know once again, I find an incredible freedom and relaxation. Without itinerary or schedules to meet, there is nothing to stress me. I need only be in the present. Earlier this evening, I truly enjoyed a marvelous meal, followed by a walk along the Argolic Gulf, as the sun slipped into the horizon. I chuckled at swimmers below me over the cliffs and wondered at the cacti, which were about to bloom so near the water. Absolutely nothing distracting me from the moment.
My intention as this new cycle begins is to open my heart and find intimacy and love. I guess those things begin being here, wherever I am. For now, that is where I am.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
From sometime in 1995 or 1996 until June 1998, I frequently heard messages in my meditations that I should go to a country in which English was not a dominant language. I was to take no credit cards and very little cash. I was to take one carry-on bag and to follow where I was led. Mostly, I ignored.
Those were days when I was writing and generating more outflow than income. Even though I was to take little cash and no credit cards, I thought I couldn't afford such a venture.
In June of 1998 I worked a conference in Greece--very, very long hours. After four days, the conference moved from Athens to the Greek island of Rhodes late at night. I was fatigued and almost immediately fell asleep. Suddenly, I was awakened by a booming voice. It repeated the messages I'd been getting, but this time with more specificity. "You are to come back to Greece before summer's end...with little cash and no credit cards." More details followed.
Awakened from a deep sleep, I sat bolt up in my plane seat. Looking around at a sea of sleeping passengers, I was shocked that I appeared to be the only one awakened by the commanding voice.
Really?!
I got it. When I returned from my business trip, I immediately made air reservations to return for 30 days, the minimum time for which I'd been directed. I'd been given a number of other details, to which I rendered complete attention. The rest amounted to nothing less than a mystical adventure, much more of which will be detailed in my memoir. Suffice it to say, I've never been the same since that journey.
In early spring of this year, I was exhausted and began shopping for a trip. I am a bargain/adventure traveler, since 1998 most often traveling to a foreign airport and going wherever spirit leads. For weeks I shopped travel sites, looking for bargain air fares. In at least two months, the best fares kept coming up to Athens.
I wasn't sure that I was ready for what another Greek adventure promised. Finally, I relented. As soon as I booked, a plethora of other destinations presented, so I was certain I was supposed to be in Greece again.
Three months ago I picked up two travel guides to Greece, but was totally uninterested in them until three weeks ago. Somehow I knew it would be clear to me where to go.
On more than one occasion, I've heard the big booming directive; those are easy for me to follow. Harder are the subtler signs. I've written at length about how guidance comes to us, but over the last several days, I've thought I was receiving contradictory messages. I talked with a friend about which was true. I prayed about it yet no clarity came.
I've written that when several people give similar advice, it is probably more than human advice. Four people have urged specifically that I go to Crete and Santorini. Those two islands from more than 300 Greek islands. Yet that just didn't seem right.
Then three weeks ago I found a note from a friend, written in 1998, urging me to go to Galaxidhi at that time. I swear that I don't remember ever seeing the note before. Was finding it now "a sign?" I went to the referenced website, but it didn't seem quite right either.
For several years, I've thought of going to the Peloponnese. Galaxidhi was close, but not quite right. When I read about the Peloponnese in my guide books, two little towns jumped off the pages. One of my friends, who had urged Crete and Santorini, told me I didn't want to go there. I have just let decisions go, being certain that "where" would be clear to me when I needed to know.
Friday I traveled to Athens. I don't sleep in planes so Saturday evening I fell into bed at 8, some 37 hours without sleep. I had no idea what was next, but as I fell asleep, I set the intention that I would know in the morning.
I awakened slightly at 6 this morning, long enough to "rest" myself and fall back asleep, but with no clarity yet as to where I was to go. At 10:15, after the long sleep for which my body yearned, I sat right up in bed, and in an instant I knew where I was to go: the two towns in the Peloponnese that I'd felt were right in the beginning.
I jumped up and looked in the guidebook for commuting details. I quickly gathered my things, got directions to the bus terminal, and sped off, arriving at my bus just 8 minutes before it departed.
After just a few hours here, I know this is right. I do not know what else awaits me on this peninsula-turned-island, but I know enough that I can feel in my bones that what I knew in my heart from the beginning is right. I literally "fell" into a little hotel with a lovely garden this afternoon shortly after arriving. I think I will extend for another day, but that won't be clear until morning. I'm OK with that.
As I surrender my need to know once again, I find an incredible freedom and relaxation. Without itinerary or schedules to meet, there is nothing to stress me. I need only be in the present. Earlier this evening, I truly enjoyed a marvelous meal, followed by a walk along the Argolic Gulf, as the sun slipped into the horizon. I chuckled at swimmers below me over the cliffs and wondered at the cacti, which were about to bloom so near the water. Absolutely nothing distracting me from the moment.
My intention as this new cycle begins is to open my heart and find intimacy and love. I guess those things begin being here, wherever I am. For now, that is where I am.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, September 7, 2014
My Prayers Praying Me
When I was growing up, I was taught that prayer was about talking to God: impassioned pleas, begging, bartering, asking for guidance from God by only offering two options, or the metaphorical equivalent of parting the waters for us to get the date we wanted for prom. Clearly, it was about asking God to help us get what we wanted. I once heard something (Marianne Williamson?) refer to this kind of prayer as "the carhop in the sky." We tell God what we want, and he/she is supposed to bring it to us.
I have come to believe a few different things about prayer. First, it is at least as much about listening as talking...maybe much more. Second, when we ask for guidance, we should do so with open-ended questions so that we really give God room to point us in the right direction, and when we ask for help, we should listen very carefully. The answers often float in as if on the wings of a butterfly and always without explanation. Reasoning with Go about why is pure foolishness. The answer is the answer.
Third, everything is a gift; no matter how much we don't like or understand the answers when they show up in our lives, if we are open-minded, we will eventually see that they are a gift.
Finally, God will tell us what to pray, if we will still our minds and listen.
All of these weave together to produce a very different kind of prayer than what I grew up with. When I started to pray this way, the term that came to me for it was "my prayers praying me." How this works is that I allow myself to become very still. Then I express the intention to prayer. Since everything is a gift, I begin by expressing gratitude, but not for stuff in my life. When I say that God will tell us what to pray, I mean that things will become apparent for which I should thank God.
I don't know if it works exactly the same way for everyone. Most of the time, I hear what to be grateful for, but occasionally I may see a picture which reminds me of something to be grateful for. In a recent prayer, I started noticing the buzz of the cicadas in the park behind me. That reminded me to thank God for having an apartment in a large city that overlooked a national park. It also reminded me of my home, having a home, and being able to afford my home, all things that I've learned to not take for granted. I was grateful that I had friends who opened their doors for me and that I was never on the streets during my season of homelessness. Then I remembered how wonderful it was to have a trailhead into the park just feet outside my backdoor.
After I'd taken time to be very grateful for my apartment and a number of other positives in my life, I started to thank God for things for which others may not take time to express gratitude. I thanked God for my pain because there was a time when I might have become a quadriplegic and couldn't have felt pain. Then I was grateful that I could wiggle my fingers and toes.
I thanked God for my difficult bosses because I was grateful to have bosses and all the things that went with them--a regular paycheck, benefits, and even paid time off. I even thanked God for my less-than-wonderful eyesight because before my February surgery, I understood I might lose the sight in one eye. You get the idea.
I wasn't running a stop watch, but my guess is that I was grateful for at least 20 minutes. Most of what I was thankful for weren't things that normally would have been on my Top 10 of gratitude. Instead, they were really very meaningful things for me to remember. When I am thankful for pain, bad eyesight, and even not being on the streets, when I get curve balls in my life, they remind me to look for the gift.
Then, it was time to ask. Once again, I asked: what should I pray for? There it was, just like in the wings of a butterfly, "Heal me." There was a knowing acknowledgement in my throat as my head involuntarily shook to the affirmative. "Heal me," I said.
Then, there was stillness again. No drama. No begging. No choices. Just "heal me." The roots of the word "heal" are "to make whole." Gratitude, and a request to be made whole. When my prayers pray me, they are simple and distilled. What more could I ask for?
I have come to believe a few different things about prayer. First, it is at least as much about listening as talking...maybe much more. Second, when we ask for guidance, we should do so with open-ended questions so that we really give God room to point us in the right direction, and when we ask for help, we should listen very carefully. The answers often float in as if on the wings of a butterfly and always without explanation. Reasoning with Go about why is pure foolishness. The answer is the answer.
Third, everything is a gift; no matter how much we don't like or understand the answers when they show up in our lives, if we are open-minded, we will eventually see that they are a gift.
Finally, God will tell us what to pray, if we will still our minds and listen.
All of these weave together to produce a very different kind of prayer than what I grew up with. When I started to pray this way, the term that came to me for it was "my prayers praying me." How this works is that I allow myself to become very still. Then I express the intention to prayer. Since everything is a gift, I begin by expressing gratitude, but not for stuff in my life. When I say that God will tell us what to pray, I mean that things will become apparent for which I should thank God.
I don't know if it works exactly the same way for everyone. Most of the time, I hear what to be grateful for, but occasionally I may see a picture which reminds me of something to be grateful for. In a recent prayer, I started noticing the buzz of the cicadas in the park behind me. That reminded me to thank God for having an apartment in a large city that overlooked a national park. It also reminded me of my home, having a home, and being able to afford my home, all things that I've learned to not take for granted. I was grateful that I had friends who opened their doors for me and that I was never on the streets during my season of homelessness. Then I remembered how wonderful it was to have a trailhead into the park just feet outside my backdoor.
After I'd taken time to be very grateful for my apartment and a number of other positives in my life, I started to thank God for things for which others may not take time to express gratitude. I thanked God for my pain because there was a time when I might have become a quadriplegic and couldn't have felt pain. Then I was grateful that I could wiggle my fingers and toes.
I thanked God for my difficult bosses because I was grateful to have bosses and all the things that went with them--a regular paycheck, benefits, and even paid time off. I even thanked God for my less-than-wonderful eyesight because before my February surgery, I understood I might lose the sight in one eye. You get the idea.
I wasn't running a stop watch, but my guess is that I was grateful for at least 20 minutes. Most of what I was thankful for weren't things that normally would have been on my Top 10 of gratitude. Instead, they were really very meaningful things for me to remember. When I am thankful for pain, bad eyesight, and even not being on the streets, when I get curve balls in my life, they remind me to look for the gift.
Then, it was time to ask. Once again, I asked: what should I pray for? There it was, just like in the wings of a butterfly, "Heal me." There was a knowing acknowledgement in my throat as my head involuntarily shook to the affirmative. "Heal me," I said.
Then, there was stillness again. No drama. No begging. No choices. Just "heal me." The roots of the word "heal" are "to make whole." Gratitude, and a request to be made whole. When my prayers pray me, they are simple and distilled. What more could I ask for?
Monday, April 21, 2014
Dance as a Metaphor
I was having lunch recently with someone, who shares my love for dancing. We do different kinds of dance, but each of us enjoy our respective sports. Our conversation had covered many topics but most were spiritual in nature. As we talked about dance, I said to her, "I think that dance is a metaphor for our relationship with God." She was eager to hear more.
To start with, we need to be in agreement with God about what we are creating. When we share the intention to fulfill the purpose for us being in human form with God, it is like dancing with a great dance partner with whom we want to cocreate a wonderful dance experience.
Of course, knowing our respective parts is important. I am sure that God knows His part, just as I trust that most of the better leaders with whom I dance know their parts. But as a follower, I must know how to execute the figures in which I am led. If he leads something I don't know, then I am probably not going to do very well. I have put in lots of hours learning and practicing many figures so that I can respond appropriately to whatever is led.
The same is true with my relationship with God. I've been given certain gifts and talents, and it is my responsibility to develop and practice them so when I get a lead to use them, I have the skill to follow. I think that I have a gift for writing, which I've honed since grade school. I was a high school journalist and studied writing in college. Every job that I've had has required me to do some kind of writing, allowing me more practice. In a meditation in 1993, when I was asked to write a book, I had the developed the talent to execute "the figure that God led."
Similarly, I began speaking before large groups of people, up to 350 at a time, when I was in junior high school because young people at my church were expected to speak to the congregation from time to time. Over the years, I had many opportunities to speak and took them. When Leading from the Heart came out, and I was solicited for keynote addresses, I had developed my talents, so that I could follow the lead.
While it is important for me to know my part, I have periodically had the opportunity to dance with a leader who is so excellent, that he can lead me through a figure I've never done. If I maintain good technique, the leader's skill will carry me. I've had those kind of experiences in my dance with God as well, when I've encountered a situation new to me, but I've been able to flow through it, as long as I kept listening intently.
As important to note, however, is what I shouldn't do in my dance with God. To put it simply, "Don't resist!" There are two ways that I can resist in dance, and I think both apply to my relationship with God as well. On occasion, for some reason I feel like doing a particular step. Often, doing so is the result of a habit: people that I have danced with a lot do a particular sequence of figures, and I don't pay attention to where my leader is going. Off I go in other direction. It isn't pretty.
When I am dancing, I have to remember who is leading and who is following. If I second guess or anticipate my partner, again I go off in another direction. Once again, it isn't pretty.
I think that we often get so caught up in habitual living that we forget to really listen to what God is saying right now. We just autopilot along and miss the lead. Similarly, if we try to figure out where God is going on, and we try to take over the controls, I can almost promise it is not going to be a good experience. The partnership has to be a 1:1 relationship. God leads; we follow. One step at a time. Then God leads again; we follow again.
Years before I moved to Washington, God had been telling me to move here. I thought I'd do it my way and find a job here first. That wasn't what I was supposed to do. I was not only not successful finding a job before I finally moved, but God seemed to need to strip me of most everything I had in North Carolina to get me to move. Finally, and fortunately, I got it.
Like my advice to the homeless man in yesterday's blog, we just have to listen and follow. When we do, we can do a beautiful dance with God.
To start with, we need to be in agreement with God about what we are creating. When we share the intention to fulfill the purpose for us being in human form with God, it is like dancing with a great dance partner with whom we want to cocreate a wonderful dance experience.
Of course, knowing our respective parts is important. I am sure that God knows His part, just as I trust that most of the better leaders with whom I dance know their parts. But as a follower, I must know how to execute the figures in which I am led. If he leads something I don't know, then I am probably not going to do very well. I have put in lots of hours learning and practicing many figures so that I can respond appropriately to whatever is led.
The same is true with my relationship with God. I've been given certain gifts and talents, and it is my responsibility to develop and practice them so when I get a lead to use them, I have the skill to follow. I think that I have a gift for writing, which I've honed since grade school. I was a high school journalist and studied writing in college. Every job that I've had has required me to do some kind of writing, allowing me more practice. In a meditation in 1993, when I was asked to write a book, I had the developed the talent to execute "the figure that God led."
Similarly, I began speaking before large groups of people, up to 350 at a time, when I was in junior high school because young people at my church were expected to speak to the congregation from time to time. Over the years, I had many opportunities to speak and took them. When Leading from the Heart came out, and I was solicited for keynote addresses, I had developed my talents, so that I could follow the lead.
While it is important for me to know my part, I have periodically had the opportunity to dance with a leader who is so excellent, that he can lead me through a figure I've never done. If I maintain good technique, the leader's skill will carry me. I've had those kind of experiences in my dance with God as well, when I've encountered a situation new to me, but I've been able to flow through it, as long as I kept listening intently.
As important to note, however, is what I shouldn't do in my dance with God. To put it simply, "Don't resist!" There are two ways that I can resist in dance, and I think both apply to my relationship with God as well. On occasion, for some reason I feel like doing a particular step. Often, doing so is the result of a habit: people that I have danced with a lot do a particular sequence of figures, and I don't pay attention to where my leader is going. Off I go in other direction. It isn't pretty.
When I am dancing, I have to remember who is leading and who is following. If I second guess or anticipate my partner, again I go off in another direction. Once again, it isn't pretty.
I think that we often get so caught up in habitual living that we forget to really listen to what God is saying right now. We just autopilot along and miss the lead. Similarly, if we try to figure out where God is going on, and we try to take over the controls, I can almost promise it is not going to be a good experience. The partnership has to be a 1:1 relationship. God leads; we follow. One step at a time. Then God leads again; we follow again.
Years before I moved to Washington, God had been telling me to move here. I thought I'd do it my way and find a job here first. That wasn't what I was supposed to do. I was not only not successful finding a job before I finally moved, but God seemed to need to strip me of most everything I had in North Carolina to get me to move. Finally, and fortunately, I got it.
Like my advice to the homeless man in yesterday's blog, we just have to listen and follow. When we do, we can do a beautiful dance with God.
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