Contemplation

A story bubbled up several times in my meditation today that I remember hearing years ago.  A baby chick was struggling to break free of  the egg shell in which it had been gestating.  Tap! Tap! Tap! Its little beak hit the inside of the encasement. Tap! Tap! Tap! Finally, a tiny crack appeared.  For hours this process continued, and at last the tiniest of holes appeared, and the beak could be seen as it worked to broaden the opening.

A well-meaning human observer thought he would help the chick so he broke the shell open to liberate the baby bird.  Very shortly after breaking the shell open, the baby bird died.  Apparently, process of fighting its way out of the shell develops the bird's lungs sufficiently that it will be able to sustain respiration when it finally emerges from the shell.  By breaking the encasement open for the chick, the human helper robbed the baby bird of the work which would allow it to live.

During an interview a few months ago on Oprah's "Super Soul Sunday," author and philosopher Sister Joan Chittister described "contemplation" as "seeing the world as God sees it."  I am in a period of transition, and sometimes it has felt to me like I am that baby bird, attempting to break free of the shell, or in my case the box, in which I've been trapped.

As the story of the bird breaking free drifted into my awareness today, I thought that God must be watching me struggle to break free, all the while knowing that the strength I gain in the struggle will be what enables me to thrive in whatever comes next.

An Eastern adage, from the I Ching if I remember correctly, advises that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.  My own experience is that when a student is ready, many teachers agree. Everywhere I turn a lesson will be repeated for me until I "get it."

I am certain that it was not a coincidence that I ran into someone yesterday, who is a reader of this blog. As she walked toward me, she said, "No blog posts!"  I gave the feeble excuse about my job consuming me that has become old and pathetic even to me.

Then I shared that I had given notice that no later than the end of the summer I was leaving the job with which I've struggled.  I don't remember her exact words, but it was something like, "We've all been watching you struggle and wondering why you don't just get out of there."  Once again I could imagine myself like that bird, struggling to break free.

As I contemplated the image of the bird struggling to develop its lungs so that it can sustain respiration outside the egg shell, I was able to see my life in three distinct phases.  In two, I struggled significantly.  In the third, between the periods of struggle, my life flowed like a daily miracle.

I thought about God watching me and wondered what had flipped the switches from struggle to flow and back to struggle again.  Yet I saw no sign posts that pointed and said definitively, "This is what changed it," in either direction.  However, from the perspective of looking at myself in those three distinct phases, I was struck that during the struggling phases I excelled as using skills I'd developed at doing work I didn't particularly like, but because it was valued by my employers and/or clients, I performed the work for money. It was usually important work that helped people, but it wasn't my work.

In the miracle phase, from early morning until I often fell into bed exhausted from a vigorous evening of dancing, life flowed from my natural gifts and talents.  I embraced every moment of life passionately. Again, I performed important work that helped people, but in the miracle phase, it was my work.

While the most popular coach training and certification, both of which I have, requires that coaches work with their clients to set specific, measurable, achievable goals, during the period of my life which flowed easily I allowed my life to be led by intentions, instead of goals.  Deep inner knowing guided me on mysterious journeys, which I could not have imagined from my wildest goal-setting mind.

One measure about which I have written in this blog previously is the intention to follow "life."  To ask myself, "Does this bring me to life? Does it bring life to me?" If it "flips my switches," then it is almost certainly a path I should follow, and if it doesn't, that also is good data--information that I should walk away from that opportunity.

What I believe to be life's intentions were detailed in my book The Game Called Life. These are intentions that I say are written on the back sides of our hearts and were designed to be our internal compasses:

1. Lessons Learned--Will this help me learn a lesson that my soul needs to learn in this life? Or is it a lesson the world needs me and others to learn at this time to evolve humanity?

2.  Develop skills and talents--Am I using the unique skills, talents and gifts that I was given for this journey to help me serve the world?

3.  Do work put in front of you—What is the purpose for what you are doing at this moment? How will what you are doing serve to make the world a better place?

When my life was flowing, I didn't live by a goal to be a certain level in the company, revenue level in my business, or make a certain amount of money.  I lived by the intentions from The Game that brought me to life. In my current struggled, I've focused too much on being of service (and I am certain that I have been of service,) to the neglect of the lessons I needed to learn and using my real gifts and talents.

In this moment of contemplation, I believe that I finally can see Kay as God sees her.  After years of watching my struggle, this morning I am certain that God displays a broad grin, knowing that I have finally developed the strength to sustain me when I break out of my shell. What allows me to thrive is truly being who I know I am in my heart.

Going toward or running away?

The most primitive part of our brains--the part that formed millions of years before our rational brains--is hardwired to respond to fear.  When humans existed in the wilds, and life was a day-to-day struggle for survival, what is called the "reptilian brain" developed two basic instantaneous responses to threat: "fight" or "flight."  Interestingly, this primitive response will literally short-circuit the rational part of the brain when threat is perceived, stopping it from functioning. 

What does all this have to do with the spiritual journey? Almost everything, actually.  Because the reptilian brain is programmed for survival, it will try to keep us in survival mode.  It's purpose is to keep us alive.  By definition, living in constant fear is constraining and limiting.

The spiritual life is expansive.  It is one of learning, growth, and acceptance.  We are sent into this world with service to perform, spiritual growth lessons to learn, and gifts and talents to develop. If we do any of these things well, we will regularly look fear in the face. If we listen to what we know in our hearts, though, what compels us is the urge to thrive. 

It seems to me that there must almost always be the grappling of these two forces within us: the part of us that wants only for us to survive wrestling with the part of us that wants to grow, perform our service, use our talents...and thrive. Contraction versus expansion.

Not so many years ago, I can recall having made the statement that I'd never made a decision which was based on money considerations.  I would have said that I always listen to my heart and just know that if I do so, everything will work out.  Except when it didn't.  About 12 years ago, I lost everything...really. But for friends that allowed me to use spare bedrooms, I would have been in the streets. 

Circumstances from my early childhood had left me fiercely independent from a very early age.  I had gone from being a successful global consultant, author and professional speaker with a lovely home and office overlooking a lake to having no assets, being homeless and not knowing how I would pay for food.  How could that have happened to me?  I'd had a savings account since I was an infant and a well-funded retirement since my early thirties.  Then I had nothing.  I was terrified.  I plugged into my reptilian brain, and I haven't fully been able to shake it. 

I struggle with that.  I want to thrive.  I want to do the work I came into the world to do.  I want to learn and grow and to use my gifts.  Quite thankfully for this blog, I am getting my writer's groove back.  I really believe that we are to listen to our hearts and do what makes them sing.  The spiritual journey is about following that to which we are drawn, rather than running from what we fear.

After I'd completed my end-of-the-day ritual of affirmations, gratitude journal, and prayer last night, and had turned out the lights, I suddenly knew that something was wrong in what I'd posted yesterday.  Throwing back the covers and turning the light back on, I padded out to my desk and rebooted my computer in my otherwise dark apartment.  I felt it urgent to correct before I slept. Really, I think I needed to acknowledge my truth.

Yesterday I compared the human connection to Love source to that of the aspen grove which appears to be hundreds or thousands of trees, but shares a common root structure and is connect at the most fundamental level.  We look like individual people, but in truth, we are connected through a common source: Love. What I had said is that when we are connected to source that we couldn't be hurt.  I realized that was my reptilian brain talking about avoiding hurt.  My change, although apparently only a minor one, was to say that when we are connected through Love, we are safe and peaceful.  The shift is from running away from something--hurt--to moving toward something we want--Love, peace, and safety.  Such a small thing...and everything. 

On the spiritual journey, when I can be awake enough to remember (translate that I have disengaged my reptilian brain,) my real lesson is to follow Love. What I wan to move toward. That's all...and everything.