I had an inspiring all-day class at the Smithsonian last Saturday--A Day at the Louvre. When I emerged at 4:15, I was delighted to discover not only a beautiful summery day in the mid-60s, but that, now two months passed the winter solstice, the days are noticeably longer. After being in a cavelike classroom all day, I relished the warmth of the sun on my face, and rather than ducking into the Metro station that was feet away, I decided to walk 20 minutes to a more distance station to enjoy the day and movement.
In the short duration of a 15-minute train ride, by the time I emerged from the subway, I was feeling really tired and a definite tickle had developed at the back of my throat. Determined not to let the feather at the back of my throat spoil this splendid day, I nearly sprinted toward the pharmacy and grocery to run my errands.
But my determination was thwarted. With every step, my feet became heavier until, as I walked into my doorway, my shoes felt like I was dragging lead. I tossed perishables into the refrigerator, put on my jammies, got a hot pack, and curled up on the sofa, where I vegged until my eyelids, now equally heavy, would no longer stay open.
Mid-evening I awakened, and pushed into the kitchen to mark my name on freezer containers, which held my contribution to parish lunch. I gathered books for a lecture the next day. I kept pushing. I was not about to let something like an upper respiratory irritation keep me from my plans.
I should know by now, but the will of my ego is intransigent. If I push hard enough, I can will my way through anything, I seem to believe. I think that may have been more true at some point, but as I focus more on spirit, my inner knowing will no longer allow it.
I coughed a lot in the night as the congestion in my chest grew thicker. Yet, I still wouldn't surrender.
Finally, at 7 on Sunday morning, I gave it up. I emailed a woman in my building who attends the same church to take my contribution and the pastor to let him know she would bring my goodies.
I crawled back in bed and slept for what totalled 13 hours. (You think my body was trying to tell me something?) I moved from bed to the couch, watched something on TV, and passed out for a few more hours. Repeat the pattern.
Monday morning the ego rears its head yet again, and I push through to the office where I cough, am cranky, and feel miserable all day. At 4, I tell my boss that, if I can get out of here, I will go home early. I couldn't get people out of my office, phone and email to make that happen. Finally at 5:15, I left. Finally! I went home and slept another 36 hours or so.
Why is it so hard for me to admit that I am a mere mortal? My body gets tired and stressed, and my compromised immune system fails me. Through the ancient miracles of surrender and sleep, I feel great today, but I really wonder why it is that I have to fight this up and down thing.
Most of my life my commitment to health and fitness have been a testament to my intention to create wellness in my life. Even my struggles with sugar are against amounts miniscule compared to the general population. Am I so hard-headed and strong-willed that I cannot seem to listen to my body when it speaks? Or, perhaps even worse, am I so hard-headed and strong-willed that I will not listen when God speaks to me through my body?
I am very busy much of the time, and perhaps the only way that God can get my attention is to knock me off my feet. OK. I get it. I listened. It is Lent: my very work is supposed to be prayer, meditation, and reflection. So, if it takes a respiratory infection, and it would seem it does, I finally listened. Ahh!
Showing posts with label surrender. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surrender. Show all posts
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Letting God be God
My posts usually come at the end of often long days. Today I sat to write in the afternoon, but something unusual happened. There were no words. I've been writing since I was able to hold a pencil, and words have almost always been there. And, today, there were no words. I made several false starts, but I knew those words were from my head and not my heart. I washed the glass top tables, but when I came back to my computer, there were still no words. I did some ironing, and still no words. I watched episodes of two TV shows I missed this week...and no words. I watched a movie, and no words.
I had made a commitment to this spiritual discipline to write every day, and words would not come. But writing from my head and not my heart for a blog called "You Know In Your Heart" seemed like a serious breach in integrity. By that point, darkness was approaching. I'll do my grocery shopping, I thought; then I'll have that chore out of the way for the week. I can write later. You can probably guess that when I returned the words were still not there.
What should I do? I felt duty bound to my commitment to sit at my computer and contribute to this blog. Early this week I wrote about the angel who had showed up to help me with learning some features for this blog. One of them was the "Labels" feature, which allows me to make the blog more searchable. Well, I thought, if words won't come, I'll devote that amount of time to attaching labels to old posts. I set about reading through the last month's posts and labeling them. Then I "got it."
Reading my most recent 25 posts was homework for today's writing. If you have been reading regularly, you know there have been some demons that keep recurring on my journey. Being awake and present, consciousness, gratitude, forgiveness, the nature of God and Love, integrity. There was something missing though, and whatever was missing felt like "glue" for the others. "Surrender" was the word that kept coming to me. I've certainly wrestled with spiritual surrender before, but I had a hard time connecting the dots today.
By the time my labeling task reached today's post, I was ready to write. Floating up as gently as a feather floats down were the words, "Let God be God." A smile came to my face, and a knowing chuckle caught in my throat. In my day job, I'd describe the problem as role ambiguity--not being clear about what my role is and what God's role is. My job is to be awake, present, and listening so that I may be led, allowing the world to experience God's love through me. I am to ask for help, probably even when I don't think I need it, be grateful, offer forgiveness, and walk my talk. Other duties as assigned, of course, such as writing this blog and books that may bubble up from within me. That's it.
Everything else is God's job. Most importantly, God gets to be God. That is explicitly omitted from my job description. Enter "surrender." I believe that it is important for us to do the work we are given, to learn and grow spiritually, and to develop our "God given" talents. Holding to those intentions may be the only things in our lives that are real. God's job is to determine how these play out and on what time schedule they occur.
That's where surrender comes in. For me and many others, "surrender" seems counter rational in our modern driven society. We are taught to take charge of our lives: active on the world before it acts on us. That is playing God. Doing so requires resisting the forces of the Universe. It is exhausting and counter-productive. Sigh! Surrendering allows us to float through life on the River of Peace, like I did when I was in Greece and the waters parted at every turn to get me to the publishing house. ("Being Led", 11/4/13) Why on earth would I want to resist that? I cannot for the life of me figure out one good reason.
I surrender.
I will let God be God.
I had made a commitment to this spiritual discipline to write every day, and words would not come. But writing from my head and not my heart for a blog called "You Know In Your Heart" seemed like a serious breach in integrity. By that point, darkness was approaching. I'll do my grocery shopping, I thought; then I'll have that chore out of the way for the week. I can write later. You can probably guess that when I returned the words were still not there.
What should I do? I felt duty bound to my commitment to sit at my computer and contribute to this blog. Early this week I wrote about the angel who had showed up to help me with learning some features for this blog. One of them was the "Labels" feature, which allows me to make the blog more searchable. Well, I thought, if words won't come, I'll devote that amount of time to attaching labels to old posts. I set about reading through the last month's posts and labeling them. Then I "got it."
Reading my most recent 25 posts was homework for today's writing. If you have been reading regularly, you know there have been some demons that keep recurring on my journey. Being awake and present, consciousness, gratitude, forgiveness, the nature of God and Love, integrity. There was something missing though, and whatever was missing felt like "glue" for the others. "Surrender" was the word that kept coming to me. I've certainly wrestled with spiritual surrender before, but I had a hard time connecting the dots today.
By the time my labeling task reached today's post, I was ready to write. Floating up as gently as a feather floats down were the words, "Let God be God." A smile came to my face, and a knowing chuckle caught in my throat. In my day job, I'd describe the problem as role ambiguity--not being clear about what my role is and what God's role is. My job is to be awake, present, and listening so that I may be led, allowing the world to experience God's love through me. I am to ask for help, probably even when I don't think I need it, be grateful, offer forgiveness, and walk my talk. Other duties as assigned, of course, such as writing this blog and books that may bubble up from within me. That's it.
Everything else is God's job. Most importantly, God gets to be God. That is explicitly omitted from my job description. Enter "surrender." I believe that it is important for us to do the work we are given, to learn and grow spiritually, and to develop our "God given" talents. Holding to those intentions may be the only things in our lives that are real. God's job is to determine how these play out and on what time schedule they occur.
That's where surrender comes in. For me and many others, "surrender" seems counter rational in our modern driven society. We are taught to take charge of our lives: active on the world before it acts on us. That is playing God. Doing so requires resisting the forces of the Universe. It is exhausting and counter-productive. Sigh! Surrendering allows us to float through life on the River of Peace, like I did when I was in Greece and the waters parted at every turn to get me to the publishing house. ("Being Led", 11/4/13) Why on earth would I want to resist that? I cannot for the life of me figure out one good reason.
I surrender.
I will let God be God.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Remembering to Pray
When I finish this blog at the end of most days and then head to bed, I find I often have an Aha! moment. So it was last night, as the night before. As I was writing my gratitude list--things that I have to be grateful for at the end of each day--there were two things for which I was most thankful. First, I was grateful for having spoken truth to power. Almost as I had that thought, I remembered early in the day I had prayed for courage to do so, and then I had promptly forgotten about the prayer. I am sure it was why I finally said what I should have said a year ago.
As I reflected about this little miracle (or maybe not so little,) I "got" on a deeper level than before about prayers being answered. I tend to pray gratitude and for guidance. I rarely pray for help. Now, I know that just by simply asking in the morning, and then "letting it go," made a huge difference to me.
Why then have I rarely asked for help? It is a good question. Maybe it feels selfish to ask for something for me. Perhaps, as the author of a book on courage, I think I should be able to muster my own courage without help. The truth is that I don't think I am very good about asking for help in anything from anyone--human or divine.
I could blame my reticence on events of my childhood that made me fiercely independent, since asking for help just doesn't seem very independent. I might say that all those years of education trained me to take care of myself. Even that my generation of women thought they had to be superwomen to claim our place in the work world. However, I think more likely is that I am terrified that if I surrendered even a chink in my armor of independence that I might just not exist.
Many years ago I heard an essay which proposed that the four most powerful words in any language were, "I need your help." At all of 5'1" tall, I often find myself looking for tall shoppers in the grocery store to reach items on top shelves that are far higher than my fingers can stretch. Over the years when I've needed assistance, I find people are often genuinely happy to help. I asked a friend to pick me up after a recent surgery because the surgery center wouldn't let me leave on my own. How silly! My friend was happy to help and good enough to tuck me in before I drifted back to sleep. Asking for help out of anything except sheer necessity has mostly been absent in my life. Why? I have no idea.
Dear God, I do need your help: I need your help remembering to pray. I need your help to just allow myself to collapse in the warmth of your love and to know that you will be there with me and for me.
Always!
As I reflected about this little miracle (or maybe not so little,) I "got" on a deeper level than before about prayers being answered. I tend to pray gratitude and for guidance. I rarely pray for help. Now, I know that just by simply asking in the morning, and then "letting it go," made a huge difference to me.
Why then have I rarely asked for help? It is a good question. Maybe it feels selfish to ask for something for me. Perhaps, as the author of a book on courage, I think I should be able to muster my own courage without help. The truth is that I don't think I am very good about asking for help in anything from anyone--human or divine.
I could blame my reticence on events of my childhood that made me fiercely independent, since asking for help just doesn't seem very independent. I might say that all those years of education trained me to take care of myself. Even that my generation of women thought they had to be superwomen to claim our place in the work world. However, I think more likely is that I am terrified that if I surrendered even a chink in my armor of independence that I might just not exist.
Many years ago I heard an essay which proposed that the four most powerful words in any language were, "I need your help." At all of 5'1" tall, I often find myself looking for tall shoppers in the grocery store to reach items on top shelves that are far higher than my fingers can stretch. Over the years when I've needed assistance, I find people are often genuinely happy to help. I asked a friend to pick me up after a recent surgery because the surgery center wouldn't let me leave on my own. How silly! My friend was happy to help and good enough to tuck me in before I drifted back to sleep. Asking for help out of anything except sheer necessity has mostly been absent in my life. Why? I have no idea.
Dear God, I do need your help: I need your help remembering to pray. I need your help to just allow myself to collapse in the warmth of your love and to know that you will be there with me and for me.
Always!
Friday, October 11, 2013
What is Surrendering the Past...Really?
During this morning's meditation, the thought of surrendering the past continued to be with me. What does it really mean to surrender the past? Then, it was there as clear as a "Duh!" moment. Surrendering the past is total forgiveness. We can only harbor anger and resentment or shame, guilt, and self-blame in the past because in the present only love exists.
For many years, I ended my meditation with the words, "Help me to raise the level of love on the planet today." My focus was always on the love rather than what separates us from love. I now see that there is nothing more I could do that would raise the level of love in our world than surrender the past and with it allow total forgiveness.
For many years, I ended my meditation with the words, "Help me to raise the level of love on the planet today." My focus was always on the love rather than what separates us from love. I now see that there is nothing more I could do that would raise the level of love in our world than surrender the past and with it allow total forgiveness.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Surrendering the Past
A couple weeks ago I wrote about "being present"--really being awake in our lives and fully conscious of our spiritual growth opportunities. Ever since the other "being present" has been gnawing at me: being in the present. Being in the present means not being in the past and not being in the future, but being in the moment--in present time.
One of the affirmations I'm working this six-month cycle is "I surrender the past, leaving only the present." Surrender is an interesting word. Surrender implies that we are willing to fight till we have nothing left to prevent giving something up. For many, if not most, of us, we go to the mat to hang on to what has been. Hanging onto the past robs us of the present, and the present is the only place that we can make change in our lives. Hanging onto the past prevents us from moving forward.
Spiritual discipline is the very act of choosing to be present...again, and again, and again. Spiritual discipline--being the student--means choosing to try something that is hard that we've tried before in the past and maybe failed at once or many times. But today, we can start new. Today we have a clean slate. Today is the day that we can rewrite our stories to be the person that we are becoming.
In The Alchemy of Fear I wrote that our "has been" engage in all out battle with our "becoming." As who we are becoming gains strength, our "has been" fights to retain who we have been in the past. The present is uncharted territory. In the present we can start afresh each day. Our "becoming" in the present holds out the lure of success. Only if we lose sight of what we are becoming can we slip backwards into the past.
I said yesterday that I finally had recaptured the vision of the author, spiritual guide/coach, and professional speaker that I was for so many years. That is what I am "becoming" again. Even though that was a life I had before, I know it will be different this time--even better than I can imagine. I eagerly surrender who I have been to embrace who I AM "becoming" in the present.
One of the affirmations I'm working this six-month cycle is "I surrender the past, leaving only the present." Surrender is an interesting word. Surrender implies that we are willing to fight till we have nothing left to prevent giving something up. For many, if not most, of us, we go to the mat to hang on to what has been. Hanging onto the past robs us of the present, and the present is the only place that we can make change in our lives. Hanging onto the past prevents us from moving forward.
Spiritual discipline is the very act of choosing to be present...again, and again, and again. Spiritual discipline--being the student--means choosing to try something that is hard that we've tried before in the past and maybe failed at once or many times. But today, we can start new. Today we have a clean slate. Today is the day that we can rewrite our stories to be the person that we are becoming.
In The Alchemy of Fear I wrote that our "has been" engage in all out battle with our "becoming." As who we are becoming gains strength, our "has been" fights to retain who we have been in the past. The present is uncharted territory. In the present we can start afresh each day. Our "becoming" in the present holds out the lure of success. Only if we lose sight of what we are becoming can we slip backwards into the past.
I said yesterday that I finally had recaptured the vision of the author, spiritual guide/coach, and professional speaker that I was for so many years. That is what I am "becoming" again. Even though that was a life I had before, I know it will be different this time--even better than I can imagine. I eagerly surrender who I have been to embrace who I AM "becoming" in the present.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)