I often prepare for my semi-annual meditation retreats by choosing a book to read in the days before that will focus my intentions for the days of reflection. Almost 15 years ago, I picked a book in which the author talked at length about intimacy. (Sorry, I looked for the reference, and I can't find it.) What really stood out in my mind was how intimacy was described as "into me see." I recall the description of creating intimacy as allowing oneself to be seen, unvarnished, by others.
As my meditation began, everything that I'd ever done in my life that I wasn't particularly proud, even going back into childhood, drifted into my meditation, forcing me to make peace with it, and then letting it drift away. After about 18 hours, I felt clean and clear. The remaining days of my retreat were remarkable--truly an otherworldly experience.
After that, I began sharing some of the less pretty parts of my history--things that I would have been concerned that others would learn--in speeches and in writing. My life literally became an open book. An interesting thing began to happen. Every time I shared a story, it got smaller and smaller, until it just disappeared.
The things that we harbor as guilt, blame, shame, or embarrassment become a increasingly heavy burden that we drag through life. The spiritual journey is challenging enough without doing it with the burden of the past, holding us back. I wrote about perfectionism in Leading from the Heart. It is a damaging tendency and one with which I have struggled.
Since first writing about how to do the journey, I felt like I had to do it perfectly to be authentic. How silly! No one is perfect, least of all me. In face of a lifelong struggle with perfectionism, the inevitability and purposefulness of imperfection on our journeys had been a challenge for me. I now understand that what is important isn't doing it perfectly, but having the intention to keep moving forward in spite of setbacks...even when that may feel like two steps forward and one back many days.
In the early days of this blog, one reader remarked that it was intensely personal. That was my intention--no varnish. Sharing my challenges and imperfection in this blog has felt to me a bit like the early days of that retreat years ago. Although I don't even know who you are, the intimacy and trust I feel with my readers have lightened my burdens and have drawn me ever closer to who I want to be.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Friday, November 29, 2013
Being the Change We Want to See
The Pope has set off quite a stir this week. His comments were a major subject on three different weekly news analysis programs this evening and generated two emails to me from non-believers not accustomed to pay the Pope much attention. What he said shouldn't have been that earth-shattering. He said that trickle-down economics doesn't work, and that the rich are getting richer and the poor getting poorer. Income inequality has been a major concern of economists for some time, and that it is happening, and has been for some time, is supported by solid data.
So, then why are his remarks creating such a stir? One commentator spoke to the fact that we are each human beings with a right to dignity and basics of food, clothing, shelter, and health care. Another conversation spoke of his authenticity in spurning the trappings of his position, living simply, and helping the poor. These are not the normal grist for news analysis. I say, "Hurrah!" that he has started a conversation.
Earlier this evening another story brought a topic to the news that we don't usually hear. A Mormon bishop in Utah dressed as a homeless person and had a professional make-up artist create a realistic disguise. He stood outside the church, greeting parishioners as they arrived for church last Sunday. A few were nice to him, but most ignored him. Some disparaged him. One even asked him to leave the church property.
When he came in front of the congregation and removed his disguise, the bishop said the gasps were audible. Some even cried. I got a lump in my throat, listening and thinking about a couple of homeless men that I walk by most every day, without even making eye contact with them. Like many in the bishop's congregation probably did, I think of myself as a good person. Me the person who wants us all to connect, heart to heart, and I don't even look at the homeless people.
So, I circle back to the pope's authenticity. People listen because he walks his talk. He is able to start a dialogue about human dignity because he lives that which he speaks. Thank you, Pope Francis, for showing us how to walk our talk. This evening I will pray for authenticity, that, as Gandhi said, I may be the change I want to see in the world.
So, then why are his remarks creating such a stir? One commentator spoke to the fact that we are each human beings with a right to dignity and basics of food, clothing, shelter, and health care. Another conversation spoke of his authenticity in spurning the trappings of his position, living simply, and helping the poor. These are not the normal grist for news analysis. I say, "Hurrah!" that he has started a conversation.
Earlier this evening another story brought a topic to the news that we don't usually hear. A Mormon bishop in Utah dressed as a homeless person and had a professional make-up artist create a realistic disguise. He stood outside the church, greeting parishioners as they arrived for church last Sunday. A few were nice to him, but most ignored him. Some disparaged him. One even asked him to leave the church property.
When he came in front of the congregation and removed his disguise, the bishop said the gasps were audible. Some even cried. I got a lump in my throat, listening and thinking about a couple of homeless men that I walk by most every day, without even making eye contact with them. Like many in the bishop's congregation probably did, I think of myself as a good person. Me the person who wants us all to connect, heart to heart, and I don't even look at the homeless people.
So, I circle back to the pope's authenticity. People listen because he walks his talk. He is able to start a dialogue about human dignity because he lives that which he speaks. Thank you, Pope Francis, for showing us how to walk our talk. This evening I will pray for authenticity, that, as Gandhi said, I may be the change I want to see in the world.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Living Each Day As If It Were My Last
How do we arrive at the end of our lives with a sense of having missed nothing? I have barely scratched the surface of my "bucket list"--the list of things I want to do before I "kick the bucket" at the end of life. But I think that it is possible to have a sense of not having missed anything without having done everything we had hoped to do. I know that may sound contradictory, but I believe it is so.
About a week ago I saw a time travel movie. At the end the protagonist said that better than being able to go to other times that he had loved when he was there was living each day as if it were his last. Of course, there were then pictures of him being really present with his wife, children, work, and just walking down the street. That thought has spun me around several times over in the last week.
Last night a man who had read The Alchemy of Fear and contacted me shared some of his photographs.* They are extraordinary, and I shared them with some friends of mine who enjoy photography. We agree that he has a great eye and an amazing ability to capture light. But, as I have pondered his pictures over the last day, I am guessing what makes them so wonderful is his presence. As I looked at some of the scenes he captured, I wondered, might I have just walked by and not even noticed the pictures of life that he caught?
In preparation for the great Thanksgiving feed today, I walked. It was a beautiful day, and I tried to really live it, capturing sights, smells, and even the cold wind on my face...as if this day were my last. Living with the intention to be really present to what I do and where I am. I believe that is how we reach the end of life without missing anything.
*If you would like to look at his pictures, you may do so by selecting this link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/26762898@N08/
About a week ago I saw a time travel movie. At the end the protagonist said that better than being able to go to other times that he had loved when he was there was living each day as if it were his last. Of course, there were then pictures of him being really present with his wife, children, work, and just walking down the street. That thought has spun me around several times over in the last week.
Last night a man who had read The Alchemy of Fear and contacted me shared some of his photographs.* They are extraordinary, and I shared them with some friends of mine who enjoy photography. We agree that he has a great eye and an amazing ability to capture light. But, as I have pondered his pictures over the last day, I am guessing what makes them so wonderful is his presence. As I looked at some of the scenes he captured, I wondered, might I have just walked by and not even noticed the pictures of life that he caught?
In preparation for the great Thanksgiving feed today, I walked. It was a beautiful day, and I tried to really live it, capturing sights, smells, and even the cold wind on my face...as if this day were my last. Living with the intention to be really present to what I do and where I am. I believe that is how we reach the end of life without missing anything.
*If you would like to look at his pictures, you may do so by selecting this link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/26762898@N08/
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Celebrating miracles
This evening at sunset began the eight-day celebration of Hanukkah, the Jewish Festival of Lights and the Feast of Dedication. The 2013 celebration marks the unusual coincidence of the first day of Hanukkah and the American Thanksgiving holiday. Very unusual. If the rather complicated calculations are accurate, it will be 75,000 years before this coincidence occurs again. Some say it will never occur again. It will surely never happen in our lifetimes.
Hanukkah commemorates a time after war when a small amount of oil--enough for one day--burned for eight. A real miracle. I've written about everyday miracles that we often miss. (Little Miracles, 11/4/2013.) But this is a "big deal" miracle. Every tradition has its stories of miracles. Most of us grew up hearing both secular and religious stories of miracles or almost-unbelievable happenings. They become just that--stories. Often they are discounted or dismissed instead of being treated as lessons in how the world can work.
In The Game Called Life Lizzie keeps saying things are "incredible", a word that means not believable. Her invisible guide Helen says that in the spiritual world they are believable; Lizzie, however, is just learning to understand how the spiritual world works. In that realm all things are possible, and really the spiritual realm is all there is.
In each and everyone of our lives we can think of people who were miraculously healed. Back in the 1950s when cancer treatments were very primitive, my father's cousin was sent to cancer surgery. As they often said in those days, "They opened her up, and when they saw how advanced it was, they just sewed her right up again. They sent her home to die, something that they predicted would happen in 4-6 weeks." She live another 30 years without further treatment.
I met a woman who had gone into the hospital for surgery for the removal of a tumor. She'd been to have an MRI two or three days earlier, which the surgeon would use to make sure he removed all of it during the operation. When he opened her up, the tumor was gone. Not a sign of it. In just a day or two the significant mass had totally disappeared. The surgeon was totally perplexed.
There are other kinds of miracles too. The rains that come in time to save the parched crops of a drought. The woman who musters strength to lift a car from her child. The man who missed the plane that crashed believes that the cop that stopped him, causing him to miss the plane, was a miracle.
On this day on which some people will celebrate Hanukkah, others will mark Thanksgiving, and some will commemorate both, perhaps we should take a moment to really celebrate miracles--and treat them as such. Remembrances of miracles bolster our faith and give us strength and determination when we are tested. And, they leave us keenly aware of the possibility that exists around us in every moment.
Hanukkah commemorates a time after war when a small amount of oil--enough for one day--burned for eight. A real miracle. I've written about everyday miracles that we often miss. (Little Miracles, 11/4/2013.) But this is a "big deal" miracle. Every tradition has its stories of miracles. Most of us grew up hearing both secular and religious stories of miracles or almost-unbelievable happenings. They become just that--stories. Often they are discounted or dismissed instead of being treated as lessons in how the world can work.
In The Game Called Life Lizzie keeps saying things are "incredible", a word that means not believable. Her invisible guide Helen says that in the spiritual world they are believable; Lizzie, however, is just learning to understand how the spiritual world works. In that realm all things are possible, and really the spiritual realm is all there is.
In each and everyone of our lives we can think of people who were miraculously healed. Back in the 1950s when cancer treatments were very primitive, my father's cousin was sent to cancer surgery. As they often said in those days, "They opened her up, and when they saw how advanced it was, they just sewed her right up again. They sent her home to die, something that they predicted would happen in 4-6 weeks." She live another 30 years without further treatment.
I met a woman who had gone into the hospital for surgery for the removal of a tumor. She'd been to have an MRI two or three days earlier, which the surgeon would use to make sure he removed all of it during the operation. When he opened her up, the tumor was gone. Not a sign of it. In just a day or two the significant mass had totally disappeared. The surgeon was totally perplexed.
There are other kinds of miracles too. The rains that come in time to save the parched crops of a drought. The woman who musters strength to lift a car from her child. The man who missed the plane that crashed believes that the cop that stopped him, causing him to miss the plane, was a miracle.
On this day on which some people will celebrate Hanukkah, others will mark Thanksgiving, and some will commemorate both, perhaps we should take a moment to really celebrate miracles--and treat them as such. Remembrances of miracles bolster our faith and give us strength and determination when we are tested. And, they leave us keenly aware of the possibility that exists around us in every moment.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Giving Thanks
In the United States tomorrow afternoon or evening begins what for many is a four-day Thanksgiving holiday. The roots of this holiday, one of the biggest of the year in the States, go back to the earliest days of the settling of North America. Marked by family traditions of food, the two things that are common to most menus are roast turkey and dressing. Almost as much a part of standard Thanksgiving fare in recent years has been football on television and the onset of holiday shopping season on "Black Friday," the day when most merchants move into the "black"-- profit column -- for the year.
Other countries have holidays of gratitude, such as a similar one in October in Canada. In some countries, such as Germany's Erntedankfest, the holiday is more driven by local and regional custom. But for most, the holiday comes at the end of the harvest season, when the larders are full, and the bounty of the year is most apparent.
For at least a dozen years, maybe longer, amidst the food, football, and shopping, I have turned to a practice that reminds me of the reason for this holiday. My custom of Thanksgiving (or the day or two before) has been to have a gratitude meditation. In that meditation, I go through every single day of the year in my mind's eye and feel gratitude. A stroll through my calendar beforehand is helpful, but it is amazing how much comes to memory as I mentally stroll, day by day, through the whole year.
My gratitude meditation is something of a condensed version of the gratitude practice I wrote about earlier. (Gratitude, 9/24/13) Complaints don't exist: everything is a gift. As I go through my days one by one, I feel gratitude. A new client, an interesting piece of work, or perhaps a new friend...I feel in my body and my soul those experiences. I literally let my heart run over with joy and gratitude.
Now for most people there are three kinds of days: really good or pretty good ones, ones that we would prefer not to live through again, and nondescript days, which kind of blend together. In the 365 days that make the year, most of us have a fair distribution of all three types. The intention of the gratitude meditation is to find something to be truly grateful for each and every day.
Those days that I would prefer to not think about force me to remember that everything is a gift and to find the gift. The first cold that I'd had in over 20 years knocked me flat for almost three weeks: my over-tired body got rested, and I read a book that had been on my nightstand for weeks. The eye surgery that didn't go so well: I am so grateful that the other eye works and has learned to compensate. You get the idea.
Now, what about those unremarkable days? I think they are the very best. When I meditate on those days, they make me realize how truly blessed I am. A rainy day? I am so grateful I have an umbrella. The garbage truck that awakened me early on my day off? The sun coming up over the trees in the woods behind my apartment was spectacular.
On one of those ordinary days I received a LinkedIn message from a man in Pakistan. He'd bought a used copy of The Alchemy of Fear a decade ago from a street vendor for a penny: he said it changed his life. I was so delighted that I had tears in my eyes walking down the street, reading the message on my iPhone.
Maybe I just remember that I have a roof over my head, and I've had food in my belly every day for the year. This year, I will definitely remember how grateful I am to be writing this blog, to have had time to work on the electronic version of The Game Called Life, and for the government shutdown that made those things possible.
The gratitude meditation has never failed to transform me. One holiday when I was traveling, I did the gratitude meditation on an airplane, and I was certain I would levitate right out into the clouds. This discipline puts everything in order, and I know what is really important. As I write about it, I am so looking forward to this year's reflections. I have something else to be grateful for: I get off early tomorrow, which means I have a perfect hole in my holiday calendar to do my gratitude mediation.
For those in the United States: Happy Thanksgiving!
For others: Happy Giving Thanks!
Other countries have holidays of gratitude, such as a similar one in October in Canada. In some countries, such as Germany's Erntedankfest, the holiday is more driven by local and regional custom. But for most, the holiday comes at the end of the harvest season, when the larders are full, and the bounty of the year is most apparent.
For at least a dozen years, maybe longer, amidst the food, football, and shopping, I have turned to a practice that reminds me of the reason for this holiday. My custom of Thanksgiving (or the day or two before) has been to have a gratitude meditation. In that meditation, I go through every single day of the year in my mind's eye and feel gratitude. A stroll through my calendar beforehand is helpful, but it is amazing how much comes to memory as I mentally stroll, day by day, through the whole year.
My gratitude meditation is something of a condensed version of the gratitude practice I wrote about earlier. (Gratitude, 9/24/13) Complaints don't exist: everything is a gift. As I go through my days one by one, I feel gratitude. A new client, an interesting piece of work, or perhaps a new friend...I feel in my body and my soul those experiences. I literally let my heart run over with joy and gratitude.
Now for most people there are three kinds of days: really good or pretty good ones, ones that we would prefer not to live through again, and nondescript days, which kind of blend together. In the 365 days that make the year, most of us have a fair distribution of all three types. The intention of the gratitude meditation is to find something to be truly grateful for each and every day.
Those days that I would prefer to not think about force me to remember that everything is a gift and to find the gift. The first cold that I'd had in over 20 years knocked me flat for almost three weeks: my over-tired body got rested, and I read a book that had been on my nightstand for weeks. The eye surgery that didn't go so well: I am so grateful that the other eye works and has learned to compensate. You get the idea.
Now, what about those unremarkable days? I think they are the very best. When I meditate on those days, they make me realize how truly blessed I am. A rainy day? I am so grateful I have an umbrella. The garbage truck that awakened me early on my day off? The sun coming up over the trees in the woods behind my apartment was spectacular.
On one of those ordinary days I received a LinkedIn message from a man in Pakistan. He'd bought a used copy of The Alchemy of Fear a decade ago from a street vendor for a penny: he said it changed his life. I was so delighted that I had tears in my eyes walking down the street, reading the message on my iPhone.
Maybe I just remember that I have a roof over my head, and I've had food in my belly every day for the year. This year, I will definitely remember how grateful I am to be writing this blog, to have had time to work on the electronic version of The Game Called Life, and for the government shutdown that made those things possible.
The gratitude meditation has never failed to transform me. One holiday when I was traveling, I did the gratitude meditation on an airplane, and I was certain I would levitate right out into the clouds. This discipline puts everything in order, and I know what is really important. As I write about it, I am so looking forward to this year's reflections. I have something else to be grateful for: I get off early tomorrow, which means I have a perfect hole in my holiday calendar to do my gratitude mediation.
For those in the United States: Happy Thanksgiving!
For others: Happy Giving Thanks!
Monday, November 25, 2013
Day-to-Day Courage
Spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss has said the most important lesson we have to learn is to be present. If being present seems like a theme in this blog, that is only because so many spiritual paths lead to the same place: the need to be present.
Yesterday I wrote about the pity party I'd had when attempting to "be still!" What a waste of energy! It is probably early in the second half of my life, and anyone who watches any kind of game or match knows that the only thing that counts is the score at the end. My pity party was looking backward and what hadn't gone the way I thought it should have or fretting about the future. In the present all is well.
"March to the beat of a different drummer" is how Thoreau put it. Scott Peck and Robert Frost described it as "The Road Less Traveled." The customized recipe for a life well lived is written on the back of each heart. (See "Partnering With Our Hearts, 10/5/2013) The recipe is revealed to me, one step at a time, after the stillness as I ask for guidance in the moment. My recipe would not be the same as those of others. I need to do what I need to do right now without having a clue what the outcome will be or how it connects with anything else. Success can only be judged at the end of the game.
The word courage derives from the word for "heart." It takes a lot of courage to listen to the heart and follow it, without regard to the past or the future...just being in the here and now. That is why it is so important for us to be present in the present, acting with the day-to-day courage to live the life our souls came to live.
At the end of my life--not at half-time or three-quarter time or even two minutes from the end of my game, I want to judge my success by what I gave and how I evolved my soul, not by anything else...no matter how much courage it takes. So far, there have been times when this journey has taken more courage than I could imagine ever having. But being present in each moment, I took leaps of faith that I would never have taken if I'd thought about it. It will continue to take courage. How can I not have the courage to live my well-lived life?
Yesterday I wrote about the pity party I'd had when attempting to "be still!" What a waste of energy! It is probably early in the second half of my life, and anyone who watches any kind of game or match knows that the only thing that counts is the score at the end. My pity party was looking backward and what hadn't gone the way I thought it should have or fretting about the future. In the present all is well.
"March to the beat of a different drummer" is how Thoreau put it. Scott Peck and Robert Frost described it as "The Road Less Traveled." The customized recipe for a life well lived is written on the back of each heart. (See "Partnering With Our Hearts, 10/5/2013) The recipe is revealed to me, one step at a time, after the stillness as I ask for guidance in the moment. My recipe would not be the same as those of others. I need to do what I need to do right now without having a clue what the outcome will be or how it connects with anything else. Success can only be judged at the end of the game.
The word courage derives from the word for "heart." It takes a lot of courage to listen to the heart and follow it, without regard to the past or the future...just being in the here and now. That is why it is so important for us to be present in the present, acting with the day-to-day courage to live the life our souls came to live.
At the end of my life--not at half-time or three-quarter time or even two minutes from the end of my game, I want to judge my success by what I gave and how I evolved my soul, not by anything else...no matter how much courage it takes. So far, there have been times when this journey has taken more courage than I could imagine ever having. But being present in each moment, I took leaps of faith that I would never have taken if I'd thought about it. It will continue to take courage. How can I not have the courage to live my well-lived life?
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Actually Being Still and Knowing
This morning I did what I said yesterday I was going to do: "be still!" and "know!" Well, actually, I spent a good bit of time attempting to "be still!" but actually very little time doing so. I've often quoted Yoda, "There is no try. There is do or no do." I guess the truth is that "being still!" was a "no do" for much of the two hours during which I dedicated myself to that activity.
As a bit of background, I went with a friend to the movies last night. The movie my friend picked was "About Time," a time travel film, which ended with the message to fully live each day as if it were your very last. As often as I've written variations on "being present," you might imagine that the movie's message resonated with me, and it did. Except...
For whatever reason, instead of following the film's message, I spun off into a totally different place. Instead of using the precious moments I had with my friend in the present, I went into quite a pity party about how I'd squandered my life (the past.) It's not as if I took my inheritance and went off in prodigal fashion for a life of partying and waste. Most of the time, the decisions I've made have been the best in the moment. I probably haven't been as prayerful about all decisions as I might have, but I am still "in lesson" on that.
As I bounced like a Ping-Pong ball from the past to the future and back, I painfully looked at my life from judgment of where I thought I should be. Everything that most of us have been told about life planning is that I should be at the pinnacle of my career with assets and relationships accumulated to carry me through the rest of my life. I really don't have much to show for what our society would describe as a life well lived.
I tell that story because history drove my "be still!" time this morning. As I struggled to be still, my pity party continued. I replayed decision points in my life which had led to this point in time. Then, I beat myself up about it. This wasn't "be still! and know! that I am God." And that is what I heard when I was finally still.
"Be love! Experience joy! If God accepts my life with love, why can I not find that a place in my heart for me to love my life?" Almost as an after-thought came a parting message: to remember what I've written about "forgiveness."
I booted up my computer and looked at what I'd written about forgiveness (10/3/13.) The gist of it was that how I "be Love" is through forgiveness, including forgiving myself. My job isn't judgment of my life: it is loving kindness and compassion. That is what I know when I "be still! and know! that I am God."
As a bit of background, I went with a friend to the movies last night. The movie my friend picked was "About Time," a time travel film, which ended with the message to fully live each day as if it were your very last. As often as I've written variations on "being present," you might imagine that the movie's message resonated with me, and it did. Except...
For whatever reason, instead of following the film's message, I spun off into a totally different place. Instead of using the precious moments I had with my friend in the present, I went into quite a pity party about how I'd squandered my life (the past.) It's not as if I took my inheritance and went off in prodigal fashion for a life of partying and waste. Most of the time, the decisions I've made have been the best in the moment. I probably haven't been as prayerful about all decisions as I might have, but I am still "in lesson" on that.
As I bounced like a Ping-Pong ball from the past to the future and back, I painfully looked at my life from judgment of where I thought I should be. Everything that most of us have been told about life planning is that I should be at the pinnacle of my career with assets and relationships accumulated to carry me through the rest of my life. I really don't have much to show for what our society would describe as a life well lived.
I tell that story because history drove my "be still!" time this morning. As I struggled to be still, my pity party continued. I replayed decision points in my life which had led to this point in time. Then, I beat myself up about it. This wasn't "be still! and know! that I am God." And that is what I heard when I was finally still.
"Be love! Experience joy! If God accepts my life with love, why can I not find that a place in my heart for me to love my life?" Almost as an after-thought came a parting message: to remember what I've written about "forgiveness."
I booted up my computer and looked at what I'd written about forgiveness (10/3/13.) The gist of it was that how I "be Love" is through forgiveness, including forgiving myself. My job isn't judgment of my life: it is loving kindness and compassion. That is what I know when I "be still! and know! that I am God."
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