Gratitude...

 A couple weeks ago, I began to feel an urge to write again, but I knew I didn't want to write another book.  Then it occurred to me that I could resume writing in my blog.  I couldn't remember when I abandoned it, but I knew in my heart that it would serve me now.  When I finally found my way back to the site today, I note that I last wrote a post in spring of 2017.  So very much has happened since then. Thanksgiving week seems an appropriate time to reflect on the many things for which I am grateful this year.

Since I last wrote, I have survived early stage breast cancer and Stage 2 tonsil cancer, and it's accompanying two surgeries, radiation, and some annoying long-term effects. And, my last PET scan showed me cancer-free. I've always brought conscious intention to creating health. This Thanksgiving, just a year after my first surgery, I am truly grateful that I am healthy again.

After 27 years alone, I discovered an old, dear friend (John) was a romantic interest, something I'd long since given up on ever experiencing again.  After 14 months, I am happy to report that the love between us has deepened and brings me great joy every day. I am so grateful for this second chance at love, companionship, and adventure with this extraordinary man.

Yesterday, John and I loaded a pot of homemade soup, cornbread, and pie, and we drove three hours to bring lunch (they'd call it "dinner") to my 94- and 95-year-old aunties.  I am fortunate and amazed that at their ages, they both are in incredible health and living independently.  As we lingered over dessert, I shared how grateful I felt to have both of them in my life.

I've mostly retired at this point, although I do have some remaining executive coaching clients which I delight in helping.  I am grateful for the opportunity to continue to serve them.

Scratching below these high points, though, the last year has brought me something much more extraordinary.  I've learned an incredible lesson. A lesson of love...a different kind of love. When I became ill a little over a year ago, friends--some very old and others very new-- came out of the woodwork to help.  I am sure I couldn't have made it without them.  I am very grateful that I didn't have to. They supported me in a breadth of tangible ways, and they enriched me, heart and soul.

A woman who had been a neighbor for several years, but with whom I'd had only passing acquaintance, formed Team Kay, Identifying my needs--food, exercise, company--and she became a touch point for all the people who said, "What can I do to help?"  She is a treasured friend and neighbor now. Through the system she created, friends knew what I needed, and they were there. One brought homemade soup. Others showed up to walk me, which at a low point meant only two blocks, but they kept me moving. One woman emailed some hilariously funny items, when I really needed to laugh. Another emailed almost daily with updates on activities which had been an important part of my daily life. Different individuals volunteered to get me to radiation treatments and home again every day for several weeks.  

One out-of-town friend sent me "a flower" every day from my first surgery until I was fully recovered from radiation.  Some days the flower was on a card. Another it was chocolate tulips, and there were socks with a rose on them.  A packet of flower seeds showed up in my mailbox too.  A Swedish dishcloth with flowers on it.  You get the idea.  I put them on the back on my entry door and by the end they covered every inch. I was so grateful for the thought and creativity she showed me.

Still others would tap on my door and ask if I felt like company.  I did.  I felt so isolated, and one day I was so weak I literally fell on my face on my sofa when I got home from radiation, awakening 90 minutes later, still face-down on the cushion. But, I could talk.  I loved having time with no other distractions or commitments to really get to know people.  Three people traveled from long distances to stay with me for weeks at a time. 

We had planned for John to arrive to be with me during what were predicted to be the worst weeks.  They were.  The pain was so intense that I can't describe it. John was there with love, steady assurance, and interventions with my doctors to get me relief. 

I've come through all this with a new understanding of what love is, and I've felt it on a visceral level.  Love is a neighbor who made me cornbread at 9 o'clock at night when I'd run out and it was one of the few solid foods I could eat.  Love is walking at a painstakingly slow pace when we were both accustomed to power-walking just to keep me moving. Love is getting me out for even a short walk in the national park next door for nature bathing.  Love was finding an Eagles concert for me on Netflix when I wanted to be out doing "normal things." Love is doing my laundry when I didn't have energy to do it myself.  Love is even a periodic visit from a 2-year-old who always makes me smile and warms my heart. For all of these gifts, I am grateful.

If you'd asked me two years ago, "What is love?" I am sure I wouldn't have answered any of these things, but today I understand love differently. Even as I write, tears come to my eyes and my heart swells in thinking of these many acts of love and kindness that got me through. On any given day now, I take time to remember all the little acts of love that come to me each and every day. And, I am grateful...very grateful for each of them.

As Thanksgiving approaches this week, I am grateful for having grown in my understanding, appreciation, and experience of love.

Could It Be Love?

Chapter Nine: Could It Be Love?

Funny that I should be led to the page of The Alchemy of Fear on Valentine's Day.  For whatever reason, I was.  A bit of a goose chase as it was, starting with my dream work from last night. When I translated the symbology, the message was clear. The quote at the front of this chapter captured it in English words:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us...We were born to manifest the glory of God within us...And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

The words are those of Marianne Williamson, but many people believe them to be from the late South African President Nelson Mandela because he quoted Williamson's words in his 1994 inaugural speech.

These are the words to which my dream led me this morning.  Without great detail, the images in my dream were of my power--great power--surrounding me on all sides, and I sat in sheer terror. Frozen. Afraid of my "power beyond measure." Afraid to let my light shine. But, the power was moving in on me, getting closer and closer, and as it did, the power seemed to increase.  And as it did, so did my fear.  Small wonder that I recalled this passage.

Only when I returned to the volume this evening to get the exact quotation did I realize that this--these haunting words--headed a chapter entitled "Could it be love?"

It has been said that we teach what we need to learn, and we write what we need to know.  Could it be that in this book, written 21 years ago--reaching the age of maturity, I was exploring the same spiritual questions that I am even today? Actually, it has been longer. As I am writing this, I recall a similar dream, recurring when I was younger.  Perhaps I've been working on this lesson my whole life.

On the second page of the chapter, I wrote, "The love...is an unconditional, universal love that spiritually connects us all through time and space. Time as we know it stops. A deep resonate peaceful energy seems to flow through us when we feel this kind of love. It is peaceful. It is joyful. It brings us to life with enthusiasm. We discover faith and trust."

The premise of the chapter is that there is only love and fear, and when we move beyond fear Universal love is what remains.  "Love is what life is about...Our purpose in life and work is to be love and bring more love into being."

My dream seemed to be saying, "Step into God's love and claim your power," and by so doing, make it safe for others to let their lights shine.  Before I can do that, though, I must look my fear in the eyes and move beyond into the "deep resonate peaceful energy" that "seems to flow through us." Apparently, I've been trying to do this for decades. I believe it is time for me to get over it.

Given the size of the power in my dream, the Universe is showing me that I can no longer run from it. My power will have its way with me, and I've fought the Universe on other things: it doesn't end well. The real power is in the surrender.  Surrender to God. Surrender to Love. I really know not what that means, but if I've been trying to learn this lesson most of my life, I would say it is time to hang on and find out.

Unencumbered Love

I've been learning a lot about love this week.  My journey to the Midwest carried me first to visit 87- and 89-year-old aunts, one of which I hadn't seen for over 20 years and the other for much longer.  When the "younger" one and I left the older, we paused for a "group hug." The moment was so precious.  I felt like my heart would explode, and I could hardly hold back tears.  It had been wonderful catching up on the passing years with these two women, who had been such an important part of my youth.  However, the moment of our parting opened me in a way that I haven't allowed myself for a very long time.  Pure love flowed between us.

Forty-eight hours and a couple hundred miles later, I found myself joining my college roommate and her husband as they prepared for the rehearsal dinner preceding the marriage of their son.  We each had our roles, awesomely orchestrated by the roommate.  I experienced such joy in joining in the preparations for this young man, now 31 but whom I'd known since shortly after his birth.  When everything was in order, the three of us also paused for a "group hug," and once again, I felt such amazing love that I was certain my heart would break wide open.

I was reminded of a moment at least 25 years earlier when the groom-to-be was a youngster of four or five.  At that time, we had quite a love affair as one can only have with a four-year-old. The night before I left town after a visit, he crept into my room and asked if I would move to their city.  Similar to the two flows of love this week, I recall so vividly being overwhelmed with love and joy with this little boy that all these years later the feeling is as fresh as it was all those years ago.  

Yesterday, I took time from the busyness of pre-wedding events to pray, and the image that came to me at that time was of my heart in shackles, swelling so that it bulged beyond and between the constraints.  I immediately felt that my heart has been shackled by the pain of many heartbreaks, and this week it is bursting forth.  The term that came to me was unencumbered love.  In an instant that felt right, but I did look up the term "unencumbered" to clarify the meaning.  According to Google, to be "unencumbered" is "not having any burden or impediment." I suspect that unencumbered love is so free that it cannot be burdened.

The shackles that have protected my heart have been an impediment to a full experience of love.  In fact, until this week, I would say that "love" has been a concept or intellectual construct that I thought I understood but have rarely allowed myself to feel.  The realization also registered that, although I never articulated it or probably even thought about it that way before, I believe in the back of my mind, I've thought about love as a commodity.  I think I've seen it as something I give or something I receive.  In the instances this week I question whether we can give and receive love.  It seems to me that unencumbered love is just there to experience--to wash over us and take our breath away, forever changing us from the soul out.

As I am coming to know, "unencumbered love" requires complete and total surrender to the feeling, and in my case, I think the surrender means that I must let go of the protection that the shackles have provided and to risk the potential of pain in order to be vulnerable to the joy promised.

I am not sure I would have understood this on a spiritual level a week ago before the experiences on my journey. Having glimpsed the wonderful experience of love once again after so long, I ponder how to remove the restraints that I've allowed to remain in place for so long that removing them seems a formidable task. Yet, having glimpsed the wonder of unencumbered love, how can I not persist freedom from impediments to love?

I just really wonder, what if the more we allow ourselves to surrender and be engulfed in the vastness that is love that love itself is what can melt away all impediments, leaving us swimming in a sea of love.

A Day of Love

Today is Valentine's Day.  Although the holiday, dating back to the 14th Century, originated as a Christian Feast day, it has always been associated with love.  Apparently, Saint Valentine was known to perform marriages for soldiers, who were forbidden from marrying.  In the 18th Century, people gave keys to invite their intended to unlock their hearts.

Why is it that we lock our hearts? I believe that we are hardwired to love so that we need to lock our hearts seems counter-intuitive.  The heart and love and giving of ourselves to another is turf that I've worked a lot.  I wish I could say I had the answers; I don't.  But that doesn't mean that I have stopped trying to find them.

In my heart of hearts I know that being in that state of Oneness that is love transcends all other human conditions.  I believe it is the closest that we come to heaven on earth. So why do we so fear it?

A 93-year-old World War II veteran was reunited with his now 88-year-old wartime sweetheart this week.  She is in Australia.  He lives in the Washington, D.C. area. When asked about the danger of taking such a long flight at his age, he responded that he would rather risk death than live the rest of his life without her.

My adopted parents who met in the same era at a USO Dance, married after just a few days, and they were like sweethearts for over 60 years.  I remember observing them looking at each other on their 50th anniversary like lovestruck teenagers.  A friend told me a couple days ago about his parents who met similarly, married soon, and spent 54 years together.  These are the stories of Valentine's Day myths, but they aren't myths: they are true stories.

For many of us, I believe that staying in the flow of love with another person may be our most important spiritual journey. It is hard work, and many of us just don't like hard work.  Hearts that have been hurt or broken become increasingly skittish, afraid that they will ever have to endure that horrible ache again.  Yet to not risk the heartache means to risk ever experiencing that blissful "heaven-on-earth" feeling again. Maybe that is why we need keys to unlock our hearts.

In my meditation about the nature of love and opening our hearts today, it came to me that many of us treat our hearts that have been broken like precious crystal that once shattered can never be mended. But, our hearts are muscles.  Even when physically broken open, they do heal.

Many years ago when I was first lifting weights, the trainer told me that we actually build muscle by tearing it.  We lift, the muscle tears, and the muscle heals.  Yet when it heals, the muscle is stronger. He told me that it was important not to work the same muscle groups two days in a row so that the muscle would have time to heal. Allowing ourselves to heal is essential to the process, but we do heal, and the very act of tearing is what makes the muscle strong.

So perhaps it is the act of allowing our hearts to be broken that makes them grow stronger. They are not the undeveloped hearts of untested youth, but instead they are stronger.  Maybe our mission should not be to avoid love because our hearts have been broken, but to actually move toward love because our hearts are stronger, strong enough to fully take in a more enduring love.

While most of this post has inferred romantic love, I believe it is true of all love, and it is especially true of love that connects us as human beings. Because someone from the Middle East did something bad, we shut our hearts so we will not be hurt again.  Yet there are many out there, like millions of refugees, not unlike many of our own ancestors, who would love us and want to be with us. They would make our lives richer.

I have coached a number of people who distrust their bosses, not because that person ever did something to them, but because some other person at another job did. They were hurt and can't trust a new and very different boss.  Others push away a friend who sleighted them, and in these social media times they impale the person on the skewer of Twitter and Facebook.

Valentine's Day then seems like an appropriate time to remember that our hearts are muscles.  They mend. They grow stronger.  They can love again even after being hurt.  It is that ability to love again that makes us human and at the same time makes us divine.  God wants us to love. My Valentine's Day wish for each of you is to love and to love not just where it is easy but to love where it is hard.

What Fans Our Worst Nature?

This evening I went to the movie "Trumbo" with a friend. The picture relates the experience of Hollywood screenwriter Dalton Trumbo, who is credited with Oscar-winning films such as "Roman Holiday," "Spartacus," The Brave One," and "Exodus." 

The only problem is that, because of the political affiliations of Trumbo and other Hollywood screenwriters at the time of Senator Joe McCarthy's "commie witch hunt" in the 1950s, Trumbo only received credit for his work long after it received the awards and, in the case of "Roman Holiday," not at all. Instead, he went to prison as did another of his Hollywood writer colleagues for association guaranteed in our U.S. Constitution. In newsreels from the time, angry and violent mobs berated this film genius, and he and his home were even attacked. As part of the "Hollywood 10," as the writers were known, they and others were blacklisted and unable to work, sometimes for 10-15 years. What an ugly chapter in our history.  

The other problem, though, is that this episode wasn't the only period in our history when the activity or beliefs of U.S. citizens have been the object of demagoguery.  Only a few days earlier I'd been speaking to someone about a friend of mine from Oregon, who was Japanese-American.  During World War II, her family was robbed of the land they had farmed in the U.S. for four generations.  Instead, this family of multi-generations of U.S. citizens were sent to a concentration camp.

American ugliness toward those who are different is not a 20th or 21st Century phenomena. When my Irish ancestors and many like them came to the U.S. in the early 19th Century they were jeered and were the object of degrading political cartoons and slurs.  They were referred to as "white negroes" at a time when slavery still existed in this country and they were often depicted in the cartoons with apelike features. None of this is pretty in a country that is credited with bringing democracy to a large scale, national power.

I fear that we are on the verge of yet another such ugly chapter as demagogues threaten to throw Muslims from our country or confiscate or damage the property of many who have been in this country for generations and/or are loyal U.S. citizens. Because they choose to exercise their right to choose their faith, a right guaranteed in our Constitution, they are threatened. This even after the yet again, hard-won guarantee of rights in the Civil Rights Act. Have we learned nothing from the earlier chapters?   
                                                        

I quoted columnist Tom Ehrich from his column "On the Journey" in my unpublished book Choice Point.  "As Hannah Arent wrote in her disturbing study of Nazi German, that evil empire could only proceed if evil became banal, or common.  For something obviously wrong to proceed, multiple consciences must stop working. Entire communities must grow numb and choose not to see any connection between abusive behavior and oneself..."*

I believe in a God of love, who wants us to love and respect one another.  There were probably bad people in any of these movements but to collectively hate whole groups is an insult to God.  My heart was very heavy as I left the theatre.  It continues to be heavy.  I am troubled with Arent's words that "...multiple consciences must stop working." My conscience has not stopped working.  And, to the point with which I now wrestle, what can I do? I am unapologetic about responding to anyone who makes unjustified remarks in my presence.  

Yet I struggle with how to counter the demagoguery. I think that God will not allow us to have the conscience, the desire, and the will to do the right thing without giving us the opportunity to actually do something. My prayers and meditations have not delivered any billboards telling me what to do, so for now, I will hold the intention and consciousness to continue to give, receive, and foster love.  I have to believe that will be enough.


*Ehrich, Tom, “On the Journey: Society’s sin is a lack of conscience, not religion,” The Herald-Sun, Durham, NC, Saturday, January 3, 1998, p. C1.

Micro-moments of Love

One of the greatest discoveries in my Psychology of Happiness class was a YouTube video, featuring Barbara Fredrickson, a dual professor in psychology and business at the University of North Carolina. Entitled "Love--A New Lens on Thriving,"* Fredrickson describes what happens to us physiologically when we love someone. She isn't necessarily talking about romantic love or "chemistry," but more universal love.

Not only does love make us feel better, i.e., have more positive emotions, but the health benefits are significant, ranging from the production of Mother Nature's feel-good chemical oxytocin, nicknamed the hormone of love, to deeper sleep, and reduced depression.  Furthermore, it increases trust and resilience.

Among other research findings, Fredrickson reports that in as little as 10 minutes of loving kindness meditation a day over a three-month period we can change the vagal tone of the heart, something previously believed to be unchangeable.  What occurs is that our heart slows on the exhale, actually producing a positive moment of warmth and love.

I wondered, exactly what is loving kindness meditation?  I did a little research, and, while there are countless descriptions, quite simply put, it is thinking positive thoughts of love about the world around us and imagining those positive feelings flowing in and out of our hearts with the breath.  (If there are authorities on loving kindness meditation out there cringing, please jump in on the conversation, but this is a three-line description, not a dissertation.)  In 10 minutes of this practice a day, we can literally change our physiology in a positive way.

In the three weeks since I first watched the video, I've been practicing for 10 minutes a day, and I've discovered an amazing thing.  Just by starting my day with the loving kindness meditation, I am able to "plug into" that wonderful positive, relaxed feeling at just the expression of intention during the day.  Very cool stuff...when I am awake enough to realize I need to pull in the heavy duty love chemicals.

The second item of interest in the video that I will talk about has to do with creating connection.  Eye contact and smiles have an amazing ability to evoke mimicry, whereby we unconsciously begin mirroring the other person which creates even more connection.  (The technical term if bio-behavioral synchrony.) A virtuous cycle of connection leading to more connection to even more connection is perpetuated.  We build escalating love and trust. As long as we feel safe we can generate "micro-moments of love" just by making connection--eye contact, smiles, touch, or voice.

I've been pondering The Grocery Store Game, which I've written about a number of times.  (See the blog-post for December 1, 2013, "Could We Change The World in 30 Days?") The secret to the game was to make eye contact and really feel gratitude as the player says, "Thank you."  I've played it many times, as have a number of my coaching clients.  There can be a real and sincere connection made in a split second at a grocery store check stand.  While Fredrickson spoke of connections with those we know, as I read about Fredrickson's micro-moments of love, I couldn't help but wonder, is that what is happening in The Grocery Store Game?

While the intention of The Grocery Store Game is to give a simple gift of gratitude to a stranger, it would seem that as we play it, the giver of gratitude is actually starting in motion many positive physical benefits for him/herself as well.

As I think about both my ability to "drop into" the feeling of loving kindness and generating micro-moments of love through connection, my belief in the ability of humankind to generate a "river of love" that connects all of us is renewed.  That we might be healthier because we have is an added benefit.








*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxoPLtRnxZs

Bathed in Love

Day One of my retreat is complete. I have been taking several days in personal reflection for 25 years, and while I will be the first to say there is no "normal," I have certainly experienced patterns.

Generally, I read something introspective in the days before or even on Day One, as I did part of today. Most of the time lessons are thrown on my path in the days before just to stir things up a bit. Almost always I do a lot of journaling, which, more often than not, leads to some emoting--I cry because I recognize a flaw in me that I don't like. (News bulletin: I am human.)

Sometime on the third or fourth day, after I have looked at my ugliness, I have usually had an almost other-worldly experience of feeling God's love and light move through me. The experiences have always been extraordinary.

Three or four hours into my reflections today, a recurring image presented itself. A large opulent round room with 12 to 14-foot high ceilings and gold silk moire wallpaper has popped into my meditations off and on for at least a dozen years. The particularly interesting feature is that all the way around the room are almost equally tall doors...without door knobs. There I stand in the middle of this beautiful room with no apparent way out.

Over the years what happens next has varied, but today as I stood in the middle, slowly pondering my plight, suddenly one door swung open inward, then another and another. As the did, what each revealed was what I can only describe as looking like golden walls of water as it opened. While I instinctively braced myself for a force that I expected could knock me over, as the forces moved toward me in all directions, they were as warm and gentle as the first morning's light as they embraced me. I was literally being bathed in the light of God's love. This was what I "normally" would have expected in the final days of my retreat, not the first.

Hmm. I felt so loved, safe and warm, like there was absolutely nothing in my life that wasn't perfect. Well, I thought, where do I go from here?

I have to fall back on a garden metaphor to describe my retreat experiences. When I pick up rocks in the garden, more often than not, creepy, crawly things await me underneath. Not exactly scary but also not pleasant either. Depending on what I find, sometimes I just put it right down and try to ignore it. So it is with lessons I need to learn. Sometimes there's scary stuff that reveals itself when I begin turning over the rocks of my life.

Over the years I've dispensed with a lot of those metaphorical rocks. Others are life lessons that I have explored over and again, just in different manifestations.

I believe my experience of being bathed in God's love so early in my retreat this time was to give me courage to turn over those really scary rocks and to know that it would be okay. No matter what I find, I will always be safe with God beside me.

The journey continues...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

"I love God"

Even after years of being aware of divine coinciding events, I continue to be amazed from time to time at the divine wisdom and timing of supposed coincidences.  So it was when a predetermined three-year cycle scripture readings in services this morning settled heavy on my heart after a week of media coverage of riots (or rebellion, if you prefer) in Baltimore.

Excerpts from 1 John 4:7-21 riveted my attention:
"Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God...Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love....No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us....Those who say, "I love God," and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen.  The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also."

I cannot believe that scripture fell onto our ears by accident this week. No one in the news this week--police, rioters, or media--could have behaved the way they did if they truly loved those around them. By extension that means they can't really love God or be a perfecting agent God intended them to be.
As I go into the world this week, I will be more conscious of loving those around me, even (maybe especially) the really irritating one.  That is how I allow love to be perfected in me.

Breaking My Heart

For a week I've been pondering the broken heart. Yesterday I wrote of reconciliation and how I have guarded my heart, as if having my heart broken might be the worst thing that could happen.  Experiencing a broken heart is one of the worst experiences most of us can remember. 



Causing a broken heart can be equally painful. For me, it was worse to watch someone I loved wriggle in anguish and to know that I caused the pain.  As I reflect, that may have hardened my heart as much as having my own heart broken.  I don't ever want to do that again...ever.  Maybe that is why I haven't found love in 20 years.  Maybe it is that I have been as frightened of breaking a heart as having my own be broken. 



So what has caused this recent pondering of the broken heart?  "The babies" that I spent time with last weekend reinitiated me in the feeling of true love in my heart.  Each time I would hug/be hugged love would just wash over me.  I literally felt like I was falling in love, just as with the romantic kind.  My heart would swell.  I'd have butterflies in my stomach and a tickle in my throat.  I woke up each day eager to hold them again. 

I remember hugging the little one on Sunday morning as she giggled with glee.  This, I thought, is what it feels like to be in love.  It had been such a long time that I'd forgotten. I was totally present and in the moment without another thought other than relishing the feeling.



Almost in its wake though was the thought: I really need a broken heart.  Not the guarded find that I have long feared.  What I need is for my heart to break open--to be so full of love that it just explodes with joy--I thought.   Perhaps that is what love is: love is the willingness to make ourselves vulnerable to breaking open for that is how love flows between us. 



I have written a lot about feeling that God is the flow of love from heart to heart to heart.  When my heart broke open with love last weekend was as close as I've felt to God in a very long time.  What a gift a heart broken open can be.  It literally allows us to be God for we cannot experience God from the recesses of a locked and guarded heart.

Anticipation...

I haven't seen "my babies" since January.  They aren't really my babies, but the two- and five-year-old girls currently on their way to my home won my heart at birth--theirs, not mine.  Between constraints on each end, it has been way too long since I've seen them.  We planned this visit months ago.  As the time has approach, my anticipation has increased.  Over the last week, I've gotten more and more excited.  If I calculate properly, they are probably 30 minutes away, and I am beside myself.

Years ago I heard that half the fun of a trip was planning.  I am not a planner, and I really love being spontaneous on trips.  Yet, I am fully aware that some of my best travel adventures are the result of enough research to figure out where the potential awaited.  As my life has become more and more harried, my planning and research for trips has gotten shorter and shorter. 

A doctor's appointment the day before my first trip to Italy resulted in a two-hour round trip Metro ride from the office and back, giving me my first two hours of "research."  On the way out that morning, I'd grabbed one of the tourist guides that I'd acquired months early but hadn't opened.  As I chugged from one end of the Metro almost to the other, I read about Ravenna, the birthplace of mosaics.  On a whim, my friend and I drove across the boot of Italy for an amazing two days in Ravenna.  We wouldn't have wanted to miss it, but for my doctor's appointment, we wouldn't have known what it offered.

On my way to Spain two years ago, I started my research on the plane east to Europe.  I was so busy getting things under control before my vacation that I just didn't think I had time...until I was on my way.  I was packing on my way out the door, too.

I know that this will be a wonderful weekend, but I also know how much fun the planning has been.  Looking forward to their faces...planning and preparing special foods that I think the family will like...picking a special Chianti Classico to share with their dad...thinking about what I think the family will enjoy on their visit to DC.   It's been wonderful.

The really amazing thing to me is how in my body I've been today.  I should have worked, but I didn't.  When their departure was delayed, I could have worked, but decided not to.  I wanted to fully anticipate the visit.  I made preparations, but mostly I anticipated the joy of their hugs, giggles and squeals, and passion.  My heart has gotten bigger and bigger. 

I just got a text that they are on the beltway.  I feel giddy: like a young girl in love.  Actually, I think that I am: I am in love with these girls, and I am totally enjoying the experience of anticipating them.  My heart felt bigger and fluttery.  There was a tickle in my throat and even some butterflies in my stomach as I anticipated.

This day has been rich because I've allowed myself to feel the joy of anticipation.  As I think back about trips when I took time and space for anticipation, there was much more excitement.  The last few vacations I've taken have felt very matter of fact and rushed because I have forgotten or lost the power of anticipation.

This fall I am going to Greece.  There have been two guide books on my desk for almost two months.  Until this moment, when I opened one to see the date on the receipt, I hadn't opened either. Today, it dawned on me how much I've been missing by not consciously making  time to prepare for my trips.   I will do so, I promise.

In the meantime, I've received a call from the girls' mother that they are here. Now is time to switch from anticipation to full-on enjoyment.

Surrendering to Partnership

Yesterday my friend and I were on a multi-event outing.  These outings are usually comprised of a number of events or activities; yesterday a visit to special exhibit at the National Gallery, dinner, a walk, gelato, and a concert on the Mall.  More than that, they are an opportunity to talk and explore thoughts. 

At one point in the conversation, we were talking about the winning couple in this week's finals on Dancing with the Stars (DWTS).  She is not a dancer, and I am, so I attempted to explain what I thought allowed the couple to win.  The professional and leader is a long-time DWTS professional.  He is an extraordinary dancer, who has made it to the finals or semi-finals several times over the years, but just never quite put together the championship.  I felt that what had cost him in the past was his arrogance: the dance had always about him in the past.  He was truly obnoxious to everyone--the judges, the audience, and not least, whoever his current partner was.

This time, I said, it seemed to me that he surrendered to the partnership.  Rather than being all about him this time, the goal had been what they created together.  AND, what they created together was truly remarkable.  Granted, he had an extraordinary partner, but I still don't think it would have happened if he hadn't allowed the partnership be the most important.

Today I meditated on opening my heart.  I do so frequently, but I seem to do so more often in the spring.  This year spring has come late, and this has been one of our first really springy weekends.  I long to have someone to share it with, and yet as I pondered on opening my heart today, I questioned whether I even know how.  Then it occurred to me that being in partnership with someone was about surrendering to the partnership.

I recalled a country song popular more than a decade ago in which the female vocalist sings that she doesn't know why they call it "falling" in love because she experiences it more like rockets in the sky.  Hmmm!  Then I felt myself in a meditative free fall.  What would it be like to jump off a cliff and be in a free fall, and then suddenly I felt like I was shooting high in the sky.  I had almost forgotten that sensation.  Yet, I think that is what it is like to surrender to a partnership.  Giving myself to something that is greater.

My problem in the past has been that I have given up myself and then found myself struggling to maintain who I am. I've felt like, if I let go of who I thought I was when I was alone, it would be stolen by the other.  Rather, I think when it works in love, after the free fall of letting go to the limitations of my ego comes the rockets.  Magic is created much as America watched magic on their television screens in the DWTS final this week. Only by letting go of the ego are we able to ascend to something much greater.
.
Romantic partnerships aren't the only places that we must surrender to partnership can make magic happen.  I think of a work team on which I serve now, which is full of egos, struggling to dominate.  A lot of talent on that team would create an awesome team if we would all decide the partnership was more important than our individual egos, but sadly, I don't see it happening. Another work team that I am on has done the surrender to the partnership.  We truly are creating wonderful work with no one's name on it: that work reflects the building of partnership.

Today, as I reflected on surrendering to partnership, I couldn't help but think about the partnership I could have with God, if,  as the trite expression goes, I would just let go and let God.  The fallacy in that expression is that it implies either God or me are driving; I don't think that is how partnership with God works.  Our combined intention to the partnership is what allows magic.  I know I have been there, often for long periods--most often when I write. Like my partnerships of love with real human partners that have contracted into my ego, so has my partnership of love with God.  I start trying to figure out what I need to do and forget to just listen.

Can I remember how to allow myself to be in free fall, not knowing what is next or what the outcome will be?  Could I allow myself to just know that the partnership is what is really important?  What would it take for me to know that what is less important than why because the why is fostering love on earth? Why wouldn't I want to surrender myself to that?

I am a dancer who has often written about the relationship with God being like a good dance partnership.  God leads, and we follow. But, the follower has to know his/her part.  The part I've left out is to surrender to the partnership while doing so.

The Grounded Outlet

You will recall that I've been working a set of affirmations since mid-September.  Among them:

-I am love.

-We are all love.

I say them as I go to sleep.  I say them when I wake. I even say them, like counting sheep, in the middle of the night when I am having difficulty going back to sleep. I say them when I am out walking.  Most predictably, I say them when I am walking to the Metro Station and while I wait for my train in the morning .  Mine is a fairly busy station at 7 a.m., and as I silently say those affirmations, I often look from face to face, remembering that each is love. I often "send love" in their direction.

For some reason today, I had a recollection from at least 15 years ago.  An outlet in my bathroom wasn't working, so I called an electrician.  He said there was nothing wrong with it.  Then he explained that my problem was with what, I believe, he called the grounded outlet.  Apparently, there is one outlet in a house that controls all the others.  If that one doesn't work, then none of them do.  The grounded outlet is what controls whether electricity will flow to the others.  My grounded outlet was on the front porch.

Because I lived in a town home at the time, the outside outlet was property of the homeowners association, and they had to get someone else to fix it.  Sure enough, as soon as the grounded outlet was fixed, electricity flowed to the rest of the house.

This electrical adventure occurred when I was writing Choice Point, and everything seemed to feed my understanding of how the world works. It occurred to me that each of us could become something like the ground outlet, except instead of controlling the flow of electricity we control the flow of love.  I can control the flow of love.

Amidst trains coming and going and a steady stream of waiting passengers arriving in the station, I had that thought again...and then continued to play with the thought when I got on the train and looked around the crowded car.  I can control the flow of love.  The first thought I had was of me flowing love outward to others, but in truth, I suspect that it works the other way.  If I become open and vulnerable, I can let love flow into me.  It can't flow out until I first receive it. I am the one who determines whether love flows through me or stops at my margins.

The "V" word...again.  Vulnerable.  What courage it takes to receive love--to lay myself open to receive.  Yet the ability to connect all of humankind through a ribbon of love hangs in the balance.  I am not sure that I have ever allowed myself to be that vulnerable....ever...certainly not since I was an infant.  To just allow the love of another human  being (or many human beings) to wash over me and for me to just lie there defenseless and take it--take in all the love flowing toward me.  It may be everywhere, and I haven't been able to see it.

That's a picture being turned upside down.  The flow of love toward me isn't dependent on what others send but on what I am willing to receive.  That may be what life is about: what am I willing to receive?  Gifts? Joy? Love? Help? All the things that fill us up, and I can control whether I get them, just by being willing to receive.

Squandering Love

On Thursday, I received an email from a friend who knew I was working on a memoir.  She shared a number of observations, concluding with the question, "You have had so many losses, transitions, upheavals, how did you (and how can we) work through the fear/anxiety?"  My immediate reaction was "I have no idea."  I just had to.

It was only after writing yesterday's post about being the best we can be that it hit me: my resilience comes from living with the intention to never cease to be the best I can be.  I don't always get there; in fact, I am not sure it is possible to get "there" because wherever we get, there is always the possibility to be better.  In all things.

There are some things that I've been better at persisting to be better than others.  All things considered, I've been good about how I eat and how I take care of my physical body.  There are also things at which I have not been so good.  I have not been so good at love.

Today I was having a conversation with a dear friend, and in the middle of it, I began to cry.  Something we had been talking about just made me think, I've really squandered love.  That is the word that came to me: "squandered."  It isn't a word I use a lot.  I have a sense of its meaning, but I felt like I wanted to look it up to see precisely what it meant.  "To spend or use something precious in a wasteful and extravagant way."  Hmm...I needed to look it up.  That was exactly the word.  When it comes to love, I've been like the prodigal who was given everything and wasted it.

A few days ago I wrote about the importance of telling people that I love that I do love them.  ("I Love You," 1/7/14.)  That is a communication and connection thing.  This is different.  To really be with love is to be truly present to it (that again!) and to consciously treat it as "precious."  Consciously.  To be in conscious awareness of love. 

I remember falling asleep, night after night for years, thinking what joy love was bringing me. But, somewhere along the way, I stopped appreciating what I had.  Appreciation is also an interesting word.  We use it to talk about financial investments that grow.  To really appreciate love requires investment--investment of self.

A few days a friend sent me an article written by a woman who had been single for many years before meeting her husband.  She appreciates him, and she understands how to let go of the petty stuff because it really isn't important.  She is treating the relationship as the precious thing it is.

Love is when we see the divine in ourselves and others.  We really recognize the wonder that is.  I regret having squandered such a precious thing as love.  I would like to think that just as the long-time single woman, I will not squander love in the future.  Yet, I am a work in progress.  All I can truly do is the never cease to be better at appreciating the love I have...when I have it.

I love you!

Back in November (11/28/13) I wrote a post "Living Each Day As If It Were The Last."  In that post I talked about being present to the richness of life every day so that we don't miss a thing.  I believe it is true that if we live with that level of attention, life would be heaven on earth.  Sadly, I think even the most conscious among us only scratch the surface of drinking in the whole experience.  I am pretty certain that if anyone gets really close, they get "called home"--their learning is complete.

Sometimes I miss things: no, all the time I miss things.  Maybe I should say that sometimes I am really present.  But, sometimes I miss a lot.  I seemed to have totally missed movies in the 80s and early 90s and TV for most of the 90s. There was other good stuff going on, but occasionally, I find that I am pop-culturally challenged.  I just discovered a 90s sitcom--"Mad About You"-- that I have been binge-watching.  I am pretty sappy about love, and "Mad About You" is totally unapologetic about love--all kinds of love.

One of the last episodes on the DVD collection was one in which Jamie (the wife) and Paul (the husband) discover that their regular UPS delivery man--young and good looking--just died.  They contemplate the fragility of life and ponder the question I asked in November: what if this were the last day of our lives?  They decide that they would want to tell all the people they love that they love them.  And Paul and Jamie really love a lot of people.  So they make a list and go about expressing their love to friends and family.  Of course, it was a sitcom, so almost none of the gestures really lands like they intended.  Their intentions were good nonetheless.

I truly believe that this question about the last day of our lives is an important one.  I am confident that if it isn't the secret, it is one of the secrets to joy, peace, and happiness.  I also know that I neglect people that I love--take them for granted, and I assume they know how I feel.  I hope that I have more luck than Paul and Jamie did, but I feel like I want to start telling those in my life that I do love them.  (Friends, be warned: I'm coming with love!)

In another episode, Paul and Jamie's daughter says, "It takes a lot of courage to be the first one to kiss."  It does...and it takes a lot of courage to be vulnerable to love.  That is what a lot of the awkwardness was about as they expressed love to friends and family.  I know that I have guarded my heart.   What if I tell someone I love them, and they don't feel like that? Or what if they misinterpret my intentions?  To open the heart may be the ultimate act of courage.  As I walk to the precipice, I am choosing love because everyday is the last day of my life. What more do I have to do that is more important than be vulnerable?

Rescuing Hope and Love

I've watched several Christmas movies this weekend in multi-task mode.  Watch movie and clean. Watch movie and bake. Watch movie and wrap presents. 

All Christmas movies seem to be the same movie: someone who is embittered catches the magic of Christmas and rekindles hope and love.  Some would say it is sappy.  It maybe, but isn't rescuing hope and love what Christmas is about?  Aren't hope and love the light in the darkness?  Whatever our faith tradition, the darkest time of the year seems an appropriate time to look in our hearts, and wherever hope has been tarnished, rescue hope and love.

Love is a Precious Thing

There are so many kinds of love, and so many thing to love.

-The love of an intimate partner
-The love of a friend
-The love of a performance
-The love of a work of art
-The love of nature
-The love of the beach at sunset
-The love of flying a kite so high that I can hard see it or hang on to it
-The love of doing something for which I have passion
-The love of decorating for Christmas
-The love of a favorite movie, play, or book
-The love of an amazing building
-The love of the warmth of the sun on my cheek

They are all precious...as precious as life itself.  I know there have been times when I have squandered love, and I remember moments of total awareness of each kind of love and totally feeling its preciousness with my whole being.  I think really feeling love must be about as close as we get to feeling God or heaven on earth.  Love is joyful--that deep satisfying joy that explodes into life.  Love is a precious thing...a miracle.

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?

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."

Be still! Know!

When I sat today and listened, I heard: "Be still and know that I am God" from Psalm 46.  I smiled.  How many times have I talked with my intentional living intensive clients about these words. Somewhere in the course of the three-day intensives, my spiritual coaching clients would hear these words, and we would talk.  Usually, we would talk about stilling the noise of the world and taking time in prayer and meditation.  I know I don't spend nearly enough time being still and knowing God in that way.

In Exodus 3:13 Moses asks God in the form of a burning bush who he should tell the Israelites has sent him, God replies in the next verse, "I am who I am."  Depending on where my client went, sometimes we would talk about the reference of "I AM."  I've often pondered God's humor, which I think is significant. How could it not be? Was God trying to tell us that each of us (who I am) is part of God?  If so, was the Psalm reference God saying that we should spend more time knowing our godliness? I don't spend enough time there either.

In the Jewish mystical tradition of Kabbalah, God is a verb**.  What if 'God' is a verb?  Not an entity or state, but an action.  What if "God" as "I am" is a verb that says who each of us chooses to be is how others experience God? If God is a verb, how have I been doing on "God-ding" today?  I am afraid that often the answer isn't what I would like it to be.

This morning when I heard "Be still and know that I am God," I instantly plugged in to all of these old conversations and thoughts and pondered for a bit more before asking, "What more am I to know?"  The answer: "Google it!"  God does have a sense of humor. :-)

Obediently, I went to Google and found a description of the Hebrew meaning of the phrase.  The verbs "be still" and "know" are imperative forms that might more appropriately translated "Be still!" and "Know!"* These words were not gentle suggestions: they were orders and strong ones at that.  I was struck speechless.  I am ordered to be still. I am ordered to know the nature of God.  I don't think this order was intended to be an activity that I fit in after work, exercise, dinner, making lunch and coffee for the next day, and watching yesterday's episode of "The Daily Show." 

Whether we may think of God as a field of Love that connects us all, which I do, or we think of God as an old white man with a white beard, or various other possibilities, we are ordered to be still and know God. Maybe it is just knowing the God in each of us. We are ordered to still our minds, let all the clutter from the world around us drop away, and "know! God." I wonder if our world would be as crazy and violent if everyone of us followed our orders to "be still!" and "know!" before we go into the world each day.  "Being still!" and "knowing!" is a priority, not something that we fit in if we are not so tired from all the other stuff that we fall asleep, as happened to me yesterday.

For years, I've taken at least a few minutes almost every morning to meditate, but in truth, more often than not, those few minutes are exhausted by just calming my mind from the rush of starting my day.  If I am to really "be still!" and "know!" then I will need to take more time.  Really?! I already get up at 5:20 more mornings.  I am not sure I can get up earlier.  Or, it seems to me that maybe this is really about focusing my intention on paying attention in a different way.   I expect that if I focused my attention on knowing the God in me, all that other mind chatter would just fall away. Ah! I suspect that is it.


*http://www.hebrew4christians.com/Meditations/Be_Still/be_still.html
**God Is a Verb: Kabbalah and the Practice of Mystical Judaism by David A. Cooper

Living with Intention

Today is a "free" day for me.  I took a day of leave just to BE.  My dreams were rich, and I had time to process them this morning instead of jumping out of bed to get ready for work.  The messages were clear. I must publish more on the BEing of a leader, the subject of Leading from the Heart, which has been out of print for over a dozen years.  I must write more on intention.  

The word or concept of "intention" has been overused by some as a concept that is something like what one speaker described as "using God as the great carhop in the sky," delivering whatever "stuff" we happen to think will bring happiness--a new car, a new house, a different job, a raise, or maybe even a soul mate.  When I use the term "intention," this is decidedly not what I mean.

To me, "intention" is sacred. To live with intention means to align with and act from purpose--what each of us comes into the world to be.  Think of intention as a contract we agreed to before coming into this world. Living with intention is acting, moment by moment, in accordance with guidance from our hearts about that intention.

I have a picture in my mind of each soul, before taking human form, sitting with the power of Love, looking out with legs dangling over something that looks like the Grand Canyon, and having a conversation that might go like this one that I think I had.

Me: "I'd like to go into the world as a human being, so that I may evolve my soul."
Love: "What lessons do you wish to learn on this journey?"
Me: "There are many, but I believe the most important ones for me are to receive love, to keep commitments, and to persevere with love...to have faith...in the face of overwhelming challenges."
Love: "Those are powerful lessons.  They are also ones that are important in evolving the world, too. You know that is a great privilege to take human form to learn these spiritual lessons."
Me: "I do.  I am ready to pay for that privilege."
Love: "The people in the world have forgotten that they are spiritual beings intended to connect through love.  You would perform great service by helping them remember that."
Me: "That is service that I will commit to performing."
Love: "There is another piece to it.  The people of the world seem to forget most who they are when they are at work.  Your service would be especially great if you would help them remember who they are at work."
Me: "I will do that."
Love: "Thank you for your willingness to do that work."
Me: "It is a privilege."
Love: "Now you know that you will receive special gifts and talents to help you do this work.  What gifts and talents would you like?"
Me: "Hmmm.  Language--the ability to use language to touch people and to help them remember who they are.  That would be one.  And, the ability to understand people when they are at work--to know what causes them to forget who they are. Finally, of course, the ability to remember who I am when I am in work settings."
Love: "Those are good ones.  We--the collected souls--would like to throw in some others, but especially 'dance.'"
Me: "Dance? I don't understand."
Love: "You don't need to understand, but it will speak to you and you will learn from it."
Me: "These will be my intentions.  They will be written on the back side of my heart, and I will tune in to listen to where they lead me."
Love: "You will do well."

Each of us had a different "conversation," but we all made commitments.  Our unique and special "recipe" for this life is written on our hearts.  The intentions that we agreed to before taking human form are the only intentions that are important. Listening to our hearts keeps us on track.  Yet we will almost never (maybe never, but I don't know that) be told in one fell swoop what the whole plan is or even why we are to do what we are to do.  We will be guided, one step at a time.

The magnitude of millions of steps accomplishes miracles, making the impossible possible.