Jonathan Fleming is a Brooklyn man, who was recently exonerated of a murder he didn't commit after spending 25 years in prison. He was released with $93 from his prison account and has been living from cousin to cousin. Many would be angry, but not Jonathan. Jonathan was just happy to be out of prison and wanted to go to school. When he was released, he said, "Today's the first day of the rest of my life."
Enter Alex Sutaru, a Wall Street banker, who was impressed by both Jonathan's positive attitude and his total lack of resentment after spending half his life in prison for a crime he didn't commit. Alex is the kind of leader that I wrote about in "Acting the Courage of our Convictions" (4/26/14.) He could see how he could make a difference, and he did.
Alex went online and started a crowd-sourcing campaign to generate money to help Jonathan get a new start in life. More than 600 people from 14 countries gave a total of $35,000 to help Jonathan start his life over. Because of Alex's leadership, Jonathan is able to afford a place to live and food while he gets back on his feet again.*
Each of us can do something. We just need to listen when something pulls at our heart strings. Alex did, and he changed Jonathan's life. Our hearts always know.
*The source of materials from this abbreviated piece is from ABC Nightly News with Diane Sawyer. http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/headlines/2014/04/america-strong-stranger-raises-35k-for-exonerated-prisoner/
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Monday, April 28, 2014
Soul School
What if none of world around us with which we busy ourselves and care so deeply about is real? What if all of it--the house, the car, the job, the education, the people--all of it is just a fiction, contrived to offer us opportunities to learn and grow our souls? Actually, I think that is so: life is a school for the soul.
None of the lessons we have to learn...in whatever form they show up--unpleasant people, bad habits, sugar, challenging circumstances...is real. Each simply tests our spiritual understanding and invites us to be whole. Think of it like "story problems" in math. The story is simply a set of circumstances to force us to solve a math problem. Things that happen in our lives are simply sets of circumstances to force us to solve a spiritual problem.
Now mastering a lesson is not a one-time test. You know that same boss you've had at five different jobs? (Not really the same person, but the same set of challenges packaged to help you learn.) Like the story problems in math, the stories change but the solution is always the same. I don't mean taking exactly the same actions, but can you find a spiritual resolution in a variety of situations with the same underlying problem? If so, you have mastered the lesson.
Instead of getting grades though, in soul school each time we master a lesson we get lighter. You know the feeling: when it feels like you could jump for joy and click your heels. That is light. When we get bogged down in lessons, we get heavy and tired--just slogging through life.
I am not sure but I am pretty confident the secret may be to simply choose lighter. If we just laugh at the challenges instead of getting wrapped around the axle by them, we score. If we love and support those who test us, we score. And we sure feel a lot better, too.
None of the lessons we have to learn...in whatever form they show up--unpleasant people, bad habits, sugar, challenging circumstances...is real. Each simply tests our spiritual understanding and invites us to be whole. Think of it like "story problems" in math. The story is simply a set of circumstances to force us to solve a math problem. Things that happen in our lives are simply sets of circumstances to force us to solve a spiritual problem.
Now mastering a lesson is not a one-time test. You know that same boss you've had at five different jobs? (Not really the same person, but the same set of challenges packaged to help you learn.) Like the story problems in math, the stories change but the solution is always the same. I don't mean taking exactly the same actions, but can you find a spiritual resolution in a variety of situations with the same underlying problem? If so, you have mastered the lesson.
Instead of getting grades though, in soul school each time we master a lesson we get lighter. You know the feeling: when it feels like you could jump for joy and click your heels. That is light. When we get bogged down in lessons, we get heavy and tired--just slogging through life.
I am not sure but I am pretty confident the secret may be to simply choose lighter. If we just laugh at the challenges instead of getting wrapped around the axle by them, we score. If we love and support those who test us, we score. And we sure feel a lot better, too.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
You Are Beautiful!
Matthew Hoffman is a graphic artist with a mission. He set out to make the world just a little better by creating and sharing a simple positive affirming message. The message:
He started ten years ago with 100 stickers, which he stuck around on power poles and garbage cans to encourage anyone who might see them. Then he started making them available to others. Now, over half a million "You Are Beautiful" stickers have been posted around the world and as far away as Antarctica, where someone put a sticker on a stuffed penguin, which was then placed amidst real penguins before being photographed.
What a simple way to make someone's day. We all have it within us to make the world a better place, and Matthew Hoffman has demonstrated how such a simple idea can make a difference in a big way.
http://you-are-beautiful.com/about
He started ten years ago with 100 stickers, which he stuck around on power poles and garbage cans to encourage anyone who might see them. Then he started making them available to others. Now, over half a million "You Are Beautiful" stickers have been posted around the world and as far away as Antarctica, where someone put a sticker on a stuffed penguin, which was then placed amidst real penguins before being photographed.
What a simple way to make someone's day. We all have it within us to make the world a better place, and Matthew Hoffman has demonstrated how such a simple idea can make a difference in a big way.
http://you-are-beautiful.com/about
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Acting the Courage of our Convictions
Today I volunteer ushered at a performance of the play Camp David at Arena Stage. Occasionally, the theatre has a shortage of ushers and puts out a request for people willing to volunteer for a second performance of the same play. I'd volunteered at the play two weeks ago, but I was available so I thought I'd help.
Usually, when I serve a second performance of the same play, I leave after patrons have been seated, and the play has begun. In the spirit of doing something different (see yesterday,) I stayed and watched the play again. The play is a poignant work. I was even more moved the second time.
The play synopsizes the behind-the-scenes negotiating executed by then President Jimmy Carter between Egyptian president Anwar Sadat and Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin at the Presidential retreat Camp David in the mountains of northern Maryland in 1979. Still considered Begin's most significant achievement (Wikipedia,) signing of the Camp David Accords was the first time Israel had a negotiated peace with an Arab neighbor since Biblical times. Following wars between Israel and Egypt in 1967 and 1973 which had cost 100,000 lives, the three key players knew that another war was inevitable, if they couldn't reach an agreement.
During the course of the play, which was based on personal diaries of President Carter and First Lady Rosalind Carter, the audience learns how perilous the potential peace was during the 13 days of negotiation. Participants recall that Sadat was the only person in the Egyptian delegation, who wanted peace, and Begin was the only one in the Israeli delegation, who did not. Yet, in no small part due to what each player wanted (or didn't want) for his grandchildren, peace was accomplished. (Sadat and Begin shared the Nobel Peace Prize for the accomplishment.)
Sometimes the theatre hosts a discussion after thought-provoking plays. I rarely stay. Today I did something else different, especially different for me on a beautiful spring afternoon: I stayed and participated.
The panel this afternoon was particularly prestigious and apropos:
-Gerald Rafshoon, White House Communications Director under President Carter, one of the few participants at Camp David other than the principals, and collaborator on the writing of the play Camp David
-Anita Dunn, President Obama's Deputy Director of White House Communications and a White House intern in that office at the time of Camp David
-Debra Amos, NPR's Middle East correspondent for many years
-Judy Woodruff, currently co-anchor of the PBS Newshour and former chief White House correspondent for NBC News at the time of Camp David
Their perspectives were insightful. They added color and pretty much agreed that it was much easier for the President and two other world leaders to disappear on a mountaintop with almost no communication for 13 days, when there were only three major networks and no social media, than it would have been with today's 24/7 news cycle.
However, Rafshoon insisted that the word be "easier" rather than "easy." President Carter was advised against the mission. President Anwar Sadat knew and openly expressed that he was signing his death warrant. Prime Minister Menachem Begin presumed political suicide. They all ended up being right. (President Carter was not reelected. Sadat was assassinated the next year by fundamentalists opposed to the Accords. Begin lived out his life as a recluse.) Yet they were willing to risk everything for the cause of peace in the Middle East.
As each member of the panel offered concluding remarks, their agreement settled on the conviction, largely of President Carter, to courageously push ahead when his absence from the public eye at a time of much turmoil in his presidency almost assured his defeat. Several times during his presidency, Rafshoon said of Carter, he insisted on doing what he thought was the "right" thing, even while risking significant political costs. The willingness of a leader to take those risks today could enable such an effort again, they agreed.
During the course of dialogue between the panel and the audience, at one point the conversation drifted from Camp David to examine similar parallels between President Johnson and the Civil Rights Act. Long before Vietnam sealed his presidential fate, Johnson had made the decision to pursue civil rights legislation, even when he'd been assured that it would cost him reelection. Paraphrasing, Johnson had said, "If I can't do something about civil rights, what good is the presidency?"
Abraham Lincoln and Mohandas Gandhi were similar men of conviction who paid the ultimate price to do what was right.
In Leading from the Heart I described leadership as beginning when one person believes he or she can make a difference and then having the faith and conviction to pursue what they can to make that difference. If the leader can dream it, I said, the true leader sets about to make it happen. These were men dreaming something bigger than themselves and then acting the courage of their convictions, without concern for the personal consequences.
The course of human history has been punctuated by a few courageous souls who were unwilling to sit with the status quo and chose to create meaningful change. There is something that each of us can do to make the world a better place. Still we often hold back for fear of personal consequences. The message on the back of each of our hearts is nagging at us to do something. ("Intention," 3/13/14) The next time I feel that strong tug, I will remember Camp David and the courage of those men to make peace.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Usually, when I serve a second performance of the same play, I leave after patrons have been seated, and the play has begun. In the spirit of doing something different (see yesterday,) I stayed and watched the play again. The play is a poignant work. I was even more moved the second time.
The play synopsizes the behind-the-scenes negotiating executed by then President Jimmy Carter between Egyptian president Anwar Sadat and Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin at the Presidential retreat Camp David in the mountains of northern Maryland in 1979. Still considered Begin's most significant achievement (Wikipedia,) signing of the Camp David Accords was the first time Israel had a negotiated peace with an Arab neighbor since Biblical times. Following wars between Israel and Egypt in 1967 and 1973 which had cost 100,000 lives, the three key players knew that another war was inevitable, if they couldn't reach an agreement.
During the course of the play, which was based on personal diaries of President Carter and First Lady Rosalind Carter, the audience learns how perilous the potential peace was during the 13 days of negotiation. Participants recall that Sadat was the only person in the Egyptian delegation, who wanted peace, and Begin was the only one in the Israeli delegation, who did not. Yet, in no small part due to what each player wanted (or didn't want) for his grandchildren, peace was accomplished. (Sadat and Begin shared the Nobel Peace Prize for the accomplishment.)
Sometimes the theatre hosts a discussion after thought-provoking plays. I rarely stay. Today I did something else different, especially different for me on a beautiful spring afternoon: I stayed and participated.
The panel this afternoon was particularly prestigious and apropos:
-Gerald Rafshoon, White House Communications Director under President Carter, one of the few participants at Camp David other than the principals, and collaborator on the writing of the play Camp David
-Anita Dunn, President Obama's Deputy Director of White House Communications and a White House intern in that office at the time of Camp David
-Debra Amos, NPR's Middle East correspondent for many years
-Judy Woodruff, currently co-anchor of the PBS Newshour and former chief White House correspondent for NBC News at the time of Camp David
Their perspectives were insightful. They added color and pretty much agreed that it was much easier for the President and two other world leaders to disappear on a mountaintop with almost no communication for 13 days, when there were only three major networks and no social media, than it would have been with today's 24/7 news cycle.
However, Rafshoon insisted that the word be "easier" rather than "easy." President Carter was advised against the mission. President Anwar Sadat knew and openly expressed that he was signing his death warrant. Prime Minister Menachem Begin presumed political suicide. They all ended up being right. (President Carter was not reelected. Sadat was assassinated the next year by fundamentalists opposed to the Accords. Begin lived out his life as a recluse.) Yet they were willing to risk everything for the cause of peace in the Middle East.
As each member of the panel offered concluding remarks, their agreement settled on the conviction, largely of President Carter, to courageously push ahead when his absence from the public eye at a time of much turmoil in his presidency almost assured his defeat. Several times during his presidency, Rafshoon said of Carter, he insisted on doing what he thought was the "right" thing, even while risking significant political costs. The willingness of a leader to take those risks today could enable such an effort again, they agreed.
During the course of dialogue between the panel and the audience, at one point the conversation drifted from Camp David to examine similar parallels between President Johnson and the Civil Rights Act. Long before Vietnam sealed his presidential fate, Johnson had made the decision to pursue civil rights legislation, even when he'd been assured that it would cost him reelection. Paraphrasing, Johnson had said, "If I can't do something about civil rights, what good is the presidency?"
Abraham Lincoln and Mohandas Gandhi were similar men of conviction who paid the ultimate price to do what was right.
In Leading from the Heart I described leadership as beginning when one person believes he or she can make a difference and then having the faith and conviction to pursue what they can to make that difference. If the leader can dream it, I said, the true leader sets about to make it happen. These were men dreaming something bigger than themselves and then acting the courage of their convictions, without concern for the personal consequences.
The course of human history has been punctuated by a few courageous souls who were unwilling to sit with the status quo and chose to create meaningful change. There is something that each of us can do to make the world a better place. Still we often hold back for fear of personal consequences. The message on the back of each of our hearts is nagging at us to do something. ("Intention," 3/13/14) The next time I feel that strong tug, I will remember Camp David and the courage of those men to make peace.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, April 25, 2014
Do Something Different
Yesterday I wrote about feeling the prickliness of being in the middle of a transformation phase. There is an unsettledness that has been with me for months, but I didn't realize how many months until I looked back for an earlier post in which I described "feeling pregnant" in anticipation of something new coming. (Pregnant, 11/2/13) I have been having these feelings for six months.
Patience has not been one of my strong suits. Once I've been able to decide what the next step is, I want to be on with it. Waiting for months is counter-rational for me. That is exactly the problem. When we grow spiritually, by definition, the process is a counter-rational one. The Universe functions on its own time schedule, not ours. I understand that, AND I am ready to be through this transition.
Yet, I am attempting to be very intentional about allowing the process and not forcing it.
This morning I had my monthly call with a Canadian friend who shares the spiritual journey. I shared with him my frustration with feeling pregnant for months and being prickly with people I really like. I asked him for suggestions about how to move the process. Almost immediately, he responded to approach life differently. "Walk up the stairs backwards, or get into the shower from the opposite end."
His words resonated with me immediately. I recalled final guidance at the end of a personal growth seminar 25 years ago in which the leader said, "Do something different."
I headed out to run errands by walking up the hill behind my building backwards. Later I walked up three flights of stairs backwards. Both stimulated observations. In each case, I had to really pay attention. That meant that I had to be really present; if I hadn't concentrated, I think I might have fallen. Walking up the hill, which I climb at least two or three times a week, I noticed things in the woods that I hadn't noticed before. I am not sure whether I just haven't paid attention before or if it was looking down instead of up that was responsible. The stairs that I usually bolt up effortlessly two at a time winded me when I climbed backwards. Both the hill and the stairs seemed much longer than usual.
I was hungry so I ate dinner much earlier than usual...just because I was hungry. Instead of my usual salad, I ate pizza. And, although this was my day to clean the house, I took a nap instead.
Now I am not sure what all of this has to do with accelerating my transition, but I am certain that anything that forces me to be more present and to listen to my inner needs/desires rather than going through the day on autopilot is a good thing, even if my chores weren't completed.
I am a night owl, and I usually relish the weekends so I can stay up and be on "my" schedule, instead of the one driven by the rest of the world. But, tonight it is early, and I am feeling tired. I have a book I'd like to finish. I think I'll do something different and go to bed early and read. Who knows what my dreams will bring when I am really paying attention?
Patience has not been one of my strong suits. Once I've been able to decide what the next step is, I want to be on with it. Waiting for months is counter-rational for me. That is exactly the problem. When we grow spiritually, by definition, the process is a counter-rational one. The Universe functions on its own time schedule, not ours. I understand that, AND I am ready to be through this transition.
Yet, I am attempting to be very intentional about allowing the process and not forcing it.
This morning I had my monthly call with a Canadian friend who shares the spiritual journey. I shared with him my frustration with feeling pregnant for months and being prickly with people I really like. I asked him for suggestions about how to move the process. Almost immediately, he responded to approach life differently. "Walk up the stairs backwards, or get into the shower from the opposite end."
His words resonated with me immediately. I recalled final guidance at the end of a personal growth seminar 25 years ago in which the leader said, "Do something different."
I headed out to run errands by walking up the hill behind my building backwards. Later I walked up three flights of stairs backwards. Both stimulated observations. In each case, I had to really pay attention. That meant that I had to be really present; if I hadn't concentrated, I think I might have fallen. Walking up the hill, which I climb at least two or three times a week, I noticed things in the woods that I hadn't noticed before. I am not sure whether I just haven't paid attention before or if it was looking down instead of up that was responsible. The stairs that I usually bolt up effortlessly two at a time winded me when I climbed backwards. Both the hill and the stairs seemed much longer than usual.
I was hungry so I ate dinner much earlier than usual...just because I was hungry. Instead of my usual salad, I ate pizza. And, although this was my day to clean the house, I took a nap instead.
Now I am not sure what all of this has to do with accelerating my transition, but I am certain that anything that forces me to be more present and to listen to my inner needs/desires rather than going through the day on autopilot is a good thing, even if my chores weren't completed.
I am a night owl, and I usually relish the weekends so I can stay up and be on "my" schedule, instead of the one driven by the rest of the world. But, tonight it is early, and I am feeling tired. I have a book I'd like to finish. I think I'll do something different and go to bed early and read. Who knows what my dreams will bring when I am really paying attention?
Prickly
I started the day angry. I woke up 50 minutes early, which might not be such a bad thing except that I was very tired. I made the decision to go to bed 50 minutes early to get much needed sleep. Then I woke up 50 minutes early and realized that I haven't gained any ground. I thought I would just roll over and go back to sleep and get the extra rest I needed. Not! My head was spinning.
First, I had a painful thought that I'd been a little short with a colleague yesterday afternoon. She is the best person I've ever worked with, so she should be the last person I'd be short with, but I was. Why did I do that? Yes, why?
I've been feeling prickly lately. One perspective of spiritual growth uses the snake as a metaphor. I know that is almost the antithesis of the Abrahamic traditions, which conceive the serpent as the symbol of the fall-from-grace of humankind--the reason Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, but the metaphor really does work.
When a snake grows, it outgrows its skin. Every spurt of growth requires a new skin. The too-small skin must be shed before a new, larger one can take its place. During the transition period, the flesh of the snake is tender until it "toughens up," and the animal is easily agitated because of the physical discomfort.
By that metaphor, life is a succession of growth--> shed skin--> discomfort-->comfort-->growth...etc.
Using the snake metaphor implies growing into a new skin results in "feeling prickly" for a while to facilitate spiritual growth to the next level. I hope that my prickliness at my colleague really does mean that I am growing, but it feels like just the opposite.
My current job requires about 1/1000 of my capability; I am capable of so much more. I am bored. When I have sought to use more of my capacity, I've been thrown work that is even less challenging. I wouldn't feel so bad if there weren't a need, but there is...everywhere.
As I look out of my apartment to the fresh green of budding trees, I am once again reminded of growth and moving forward in time, signaled by the changing of the seasons. I love to learn, and I love to grow. I realize that unlike the trees in the park, I have not been learning, growing, and changing. I am taking a couple of classes, but they will allow me to receive credentials for material I already know. I believe what I need is something to learn, something that will allow me to grow. Maybe my prickliness is the result of stagnation.
For most of my life, my growth has been around my work, but clearly the current environment at my workplace isn't hospitable to that. So, I am going to look around me for opportunities to grow elsewhere in my life. I recall being energized with some art history courses that I took a few years ago. I am certain that I can find something that will break me out of my current skin, and I am betting that, even if I do have a "new tender skin," I will feel less prickly in no time.
First, I had a painful thought that I'd been a little short with a colleague yesterday afternoon. She is the best person I've ever worked with, so she should be the last person I'd be short with, but I was. Why did I do that? Yes, why?
I've been feeling prickly lately. One perspective of spiritual growth uses the snake as a metaphor. I know that is almost the antithesis of the Abrahamic traditions, which conceive the serpent as the symbol of the fall-from-grace of humankind--the reason Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, but the metaphor really does work.
When a snake grows, it outgrows its skin. Every spurt of growth requires a new skin. The too-small skin must be shed before a new, larger one can take its place. During the transition period, the flesh of the snake is tender until it "toughens up," and the animal is easily agitated because of the physical discomfort.
By that metaphor, life is a succession of growth--> shed skin--> discomfort-->comfort-->growth...etc.
Using the snake metaphor implies growing into a new skin results in "feeling prickly" for a while to facilitate spiritual growth to the next level. I hope that my prickliness at my colleague really does mean that I am growing, but it feels like just the opposite.
My current job requires about 1/1000 of my capability; I am capable of so much more. I am bored. When I have sought to use more of my capacity, I've been thrown work that is even less challenging. I wouldn't feel so bad if there weren't a need, but there is...everywhere.
As I look out of my apartment to the fresh green of budding trees, I am once again reminded of growth and moving forward in time, signaled by the changing of the seasons. I love to learn, and I love to grow. I realize that unlike the trees in the park, I have not been learning, growing, and changing. I am taking a couple of classes, but they will allow me to receive credentials for material I already know. I believe what I need is something to learn, something that will allow me to grow. Maybe my prickliness is the result of stagnation.
For most of my life, my growth has been around my work, but clearly the current environment at my workplace isn't hospitable to that. So, I am going to look around me for opportunities to grow elsewhere in my life. I recall being energized with some art history courses that I took a few years ago. I am certain that I can find something that will break me out of my current skin, and I am betting that, even if I do have a "new tender skin," I will feel less prickly in no time.
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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