Snow blanketed the park behind my apartment today, and like magic, something appeared amidst the trees that I'd never seen before. Four white rectangles appeared. What an unusual thing--all those right angles among the flowing organic lines of the woods. I had known that somewhere out there were a few houses, which had been in the woods before it was a park, but usually the foliage has camouflaged them, or I thought it did. The foliage has been gone for at least six weeks, though, and I hadn't noticed the houses.
Seeing the white rectangles really made me wonder: what else in my world is hidden in plain sight--just sitting there waiting for snow to fall on it, like a sign shouting "See me!" What else might I see that I've been missing? What if love or joy were observable? I sense that they are all around us, but I haven't been able to see them. Or maybe I haven't allowed myself to see them. What if the finer qualities of people we don't like so much were there like billboards so we couldn't miss them? Or maybe those invisible creatures that support us, like angels encouraging us to grow. We could see them and how much they want us to succeed.
What if all those things that have been hidden in plain sight were as apparent as the rooftops of houses in the park? I sense that I would be able to trust more. I chuckle even as I write it. I could trust more if I could see all those things that I should trust are there anyway. Is that trust? If we can see things, they don't require trust. Trusting is believing what we can't see.
I am guessing, and it is only a guess, that if we really trust, we actually will see those things that might appear to be invisible...like magic, hidden in plain sight.
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Celebrating miracles
This evening at sunset began the eight-day celebration of Hanukkah, the Jewish Festival of Lights and the Feast of Dedication. The 2013 celebration marks the unusual coincidence of the first day of Hanukkah and the American Thanksgiving holiday. Very unusual. If the rather complicated calculations are accurate, it will be 75,000 years before this coincidence occurs again. Some say it will never occur again. It will surely never happen in our lifetimes.
Hanukkah commemorates a time after war when a small amount of oil--enough for one day--burned for eight. A real miracle. I've written about everyday miracles that we often miss. (Little Miracles, 11/4/2013.) But this is a "big deal" miracle. Every tradition has its stories of miracles. Most of us grew up hearing both secular and religious stories of miracles or almost-unbelievable happenings. They become just that--stories. Often they are discounted or dismissed instead of being treated as lessons in how the world can work.
In The Game Called Life Lizzie keeps saying things are "incredible", a word that means not believable. Her invisible guide Helen says that in the spiritual world they are believable; Lizzie, however, is just learning to understand how the spiritual world works. In that realm all things are possible, and really the spiritual realm is all there is.
In each and everyone of our lives we can think of people who were miraculously healed. Back in the 1950s when cancer treatments were very primitive, my father's cousin was sent to cancer surgery. As they often said in those days, "They opened her up, and when they saw how advanced it was, they just sewed her right up again. They sent her home to die, something that they predicted would happen in 4-6 weeks." She live another 30 years without further treatment.
I met a woman who had gone into the hospital for surgery for the removal of a tumor. She'd been to have an MRI two or three days earlier, which the surgeon would use to make sure he removed all of it during the operation. When he opened her up, the tumor was gone. Not a sign of it. In just a day or two the significant mass had totally disappeared. The surgeon was totally perplexed.
There are other kinds of miracles too. The rains that come in time to save the parched crops of a drought. The woman who musters strength to lift a car from her child. The man who missed the plane that crashed believes that the cop that stopped him, causing him to miss the plane, was a miracle.
On this day on which some people will celebrate Hanukkah, others will mark Thanksgiving, and some will commemorate both, perhaps we should take a moment to really celebrate miracles--and treat them as such. Remembrances of miracles bolster our faith and give us strength and determination when we are tested. And, they leave us keenly aware of the possibility that exists around us in every moment.
Hanukkah commemorates a time after war when a small amount of oil--enough for one day--burned for eight. A real miracle. I've written about everyday miracles that we often miss. (Little Miracles, 11/4/2013.) But this is a "big deal" miracle. Every tradition has its stories of miracles. Most of us grew up hearing both secular and religious stories of miracles or almost-unbelievable happenings. They become just that--stories. Often they are discounted or dismissed instead of being treated as lessons in how the world can work.
In The Game Called Life Lizzie keeps saying things are "incredible", a word that means not believable. Her invisible guide Helen says that in the spiritual world they are believable; Lizzie, however, is just learning to understand how the spiritual world works. In that realm all things are possible, and really the spiritual realm is all there is.
In each and everyone of our lives we can think of people who were miraculously healed. Back in the 1950s when cancer treatments were very primitive, my father's cousin was sent to cancer surgery. As they often said in those days, "They opened her up, and when they saw how advanced it was, they just sewed her right up again. They sent her home to die, something that they predicted would happen in 4-6 weeks." She live another 30 years without further treatment.
I met a woman who had gone into the hospital for surgery for the removal of a tumor. She'd been to have an MRI two or three days earlier, which the surgeon would use to make sure he removed all of it during the operation. When he opened her up, the tumor was gone. Not a sign of it. In just a day or two the significant mass had totally disappeared. The surgeon was totally perplexed.
There are other kinds of miracles too. The rains that come in time to save the parched crops of a drought. The woman who musters strength to lift a car from her child. The man who missed the plane that crashed believes that the cop that stopped him, causing him to miss the plane, was a miracle.
On this day on which some people will celebrate Hanukkah, others will mark Thanksgiving, and some will commemorate both, perhaps we should take a moment to really celebrate miracles--and treat them as such. Remembrances of miracles bolster our faith and give us strength and determination when we are tested. And, they leave us keenly aware of the possibility that exists around us in every moment.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Going to school
My life has seemed to go in cycles. For a few years life flows swimmingly. Money, relationships, health, and career all work well. Then, for no apparent reason, one day it shifts, and life can be very difficult for the next few. While I certainly think the easy times are much more fun, in truth, I am sure that the difficult ones are more important to the evolution of my soul.
I think of the difficult times as when we are in "spiritual school." It is easy to have faith when everything is easy. I have learned the most about faith when it is tested. Like in the life of the Biblical Job, if we are able to remember that we are on a spiritual journey, we come out the other side stronger and closer to whatever we consider the divine. When things really fall apart, we are going to spiritual graduate school.
When I was publishing a book each year, writing several newspaper columns, consulting globally, and delivering a reasonable number of keynote addresses, I had lots of people around me who loved me. Then the economy went bust...and my business with it. Suddenly, most of my "friends" evaporated. I found out who my true friends were. I would never have learned what makes a real friend without those times.
Similarly, I won't ever really learn about forgiveness and gratitude until I need to forgive someone for a particularly wicked deed and then take it one step further to expressing gratitude for the deed. Twenty years ago a friend and I would talk about "being in lesson" at moments like that. We would know that there was a spiritual purpose for our challenging times. The more challenging the times, the more we were sure we were "in lesson."
School goes in other cycles too. A different friend and I were talking over dinner Sunday about the same lessons that seem to keep showing up in our lives every few years. In my belief system those repeating lessons are ones that our souls signed up to master. But, with each cycle, we learn something different.
I am a bit reluctant to announce at this early stage, but I feel a difficult cycle is approaching an end. You may recall that a few days ago, I wrote about feeling as if I were pregnant (11/2/12.) I've been restless and keep feeling like I have been about to deliver something. Today, I think my "baby" is an easier stage of life. In several arenas in life, I feel little breakthroughs, harbingers of better times. I feel as if it might almost be safe to relax. Ah!
While I look forward to easier times, I am cognizant of being truly grateful for the years I've been "in spiritual school," maybe this time for a spiritual post-doc.
I think of the difficult times as when we are in "spiritual school." It is easy to have faith when everything is easy. I have learned the most about faith when it is tested. Like in the life of the Biblical Job, if we are able to remember that we are on a spiritual journey, we come out the other side stronger and closer to whatever we consider the divine. When things really fall apart, we are going to spiritual graduate school.
When I was publishing a book each year, writing several newspaper columns, consulting globally, and delivering a reasonable number of keynote addresses, I had lots of people around me who loved me. Then the economy went bust...and my business with it. Suddenly, most of my "friends" evaporated. I found out who my true friends were. I would never have learned what makes a real friend without those times.
Similarly, I won't ever really learn about forgiveness and gratitude until I need to forgive someone for a particularly wicked deed and then take it one step further to expressing gratitude for the deed. Twenty years ago a friend and I would talk about "being in lesson" at moments like that. We would know that there was a spiritual purpose for our challenging times. The more challenging the times, the more we were sure we were "in lesson."
School goes in other cycles too. A different friend and I were talking over dinner Sunday about the same lessons that seem to keep showing up in our lives every few years. In my belief system those repeating lessons are ones that our souls signed up to master. But, with each cycle, we learn something different.
I am a bit reluctant to announce at this early stage, but I feel a difficult cycle is approaching an end. You may recall that a few days ago, I wrote about feeling as if I were pregnant (11/2/12.) I've been restless and keep feeling like I have been about to deliver something. Today, I think my "baby" is an easier stage of life. In several arenas in life, I feel little breakthroughs, harbingers of better times. I feel as if it might almost be safe to relax. Ah!
While I look forward to easier times, I am cognizant of being truly grateful for the years I've been "in spiritual school," maybe this time for a spiritual post-doc.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Seeds of Faith
This is my first full year in my apartment, and I am still planting my balcony garden. Thursday a box full of plants and bulbs was waiting for me when I got home. For me there is something therapeutic about getting my fingers in the soil, so when I embarked on the chore of planting, I did so with much joy.
Fall is a time when I become most consciously aware of faith. As I put out the plants that will grace my home next spring, I do so with a great deal of faith. I trust that if I do my part--plant them right, fertilize, and then water them regularly--they will do their part.
The magic isn't limited to my balcony. In the park behind my home, seeds are or have been dropped and are working their way into the ground to grow roots. Fruits and vegetables left too long in the field have broken open and dispersed their seeds. Wild flowers have gone to seed. The wind has scattered their seeds as well. In something of a mystery, during the winter when the elements seem most inhospitable to fostering life, a magical process of starting life is going on.
This mysterious cycle of life occurs so regularly that it is easy to lose touch with the wonder of what is occurring. In many ways, what occurs in our own spiritual development parallels what happens in nature. Each day as I attempt to grow more whole, whether it be in how I eat or exercise or in my focus on creating heart connections with the clerks in the grocery store.
I take actions each day, not because I expect something will miraculously change in an instant. I take actions in alignment with my intentions for who I am becoming because I have faith that if I do those actions to which I've committed every day, then a few months down the road in what seems like an overnight success, the seeds I've been planting will spring forth in a new me.
Spiritual growth, like planting my garden, is an act of faith. If I act consistently over time, I will grow into a new person, as surely as the tulip bulbs I planted yesterday will blossom in shades of purple and pink. I have faith that I will grow into more wholeness, and by so doing, I will plant seeds for a better world.
Fall is a time when I become most consciously aware of faith. As I put out the plants that will grace my home next spring, I do so with a great deal of faith. I trust that if I do my part--plant them right, fertilize, and then water them regularly--they will do their part.
The magic isn't limited to my balcony. In the park behind my home, seeds are or have been dropped and are working their way into the ground to grow roots. Fruits and vegetables left too long in the field have broken open and dispersed their seeds. Wild flowers have gone to seed. The wind has scattered their seeds as well. In something of a mystery, during the winter when the elements seem most inhospitable to fostering life, a magical process of starting life is going on.
This mysterious cycle of life occurs so regularly that it is easy to lose touch with the wonder of what is occurring. In many ways, what occurs in our own spiritual development parallels what happens in nature. Each day as I attempt to grow more whole, whether it be in how I eat or exercise or in my focus on creating heart connections with the clerks in the grocery store.
I take actions each day, not because I expect something will miraculously change in an instant. I take actions in alignment with my intentions for who I am becoming because I have faith that if I do those actions to which I've committed every day, then a few months down the road in what seems like an overnight success, the seeds I've been planting will spring forth in a new me.
Spiritual growth, like planting my garden, is an act of faith. If I act consistently over time, I will grow into a new person, as surely as the tulip bulbs I planted yesterday will blossom in shades of purple and pink. I have faith that I will grow into more wholeness, and by so doing, I will plant seeds for a better world.
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