Just Keep Showing Up

I wrote yesterday's post--90% is just showing up"--immediately before going to bed, as I often do. You might say I slept on it.  In this morning's meditation, it came that there is no where that "just showing up" is more important than prayer and meditation.

Spiritual teacher Caroline Myss has spoken about our "prayer bank accounts."  My understanding of this concept is that we show up every day (preferably at the same time) to either pray or meditate, or some combination.  We show up even when we have nothing to pray for or about.  We just do it. Day in, day out. The term "practice" is often applied to our spiritual development because like a sport or a musical instrument that we are learning, we do it every day to get better at it.  We develop spiritual "muscle" that we can call on when we least expect it.

Myss says that if we make these daily deposits to our "bank accounts," then some day, when we really need to pray for or about something, we have a relationship with whatever we call the listener on the other end of the line when we commune in that way.  We don't need the kind of small talk that we usually use to get to know someone; we already have an intimate relationship.  We can go deep...fast.

In my meditation this morning what kept coming up was that I haven't been so good in recent years about that regular practice.  As I sat, I pictured myself in a workshop years ago when we stopped and meditated.  Afterward, the leader said that she'd been doing that for years, and she'd never seen anyone settle into their meditation as quickly as I did. At the time, I'd been writing Leading from the Heart, and I began each day by meditating at least an hour a day and sometimes up to three.  I'd meditate until I was inspired to write; then I'd get up and let the words flow through me. The point is that the practice I'd been building paid off in the workshop.

In recent years, there have been many days when I neither prayed nor meditated.  Other days I fell asleep as I tried to meditate.  Some days my prayers were one-liners: "Please guide my work today to the Higher Good."  My prayer muscles have gone soft.  But every day this year--all 12 of them, and twice a day since my retreat started. I've taken time to sit with God.

In the beginning I was very fidgety.  Sometimes I'd think I had been sitting a while, only to open my eyes and discover that only three or four minutes had passed.  I started setting the timer on my iPhone for 20 minutes.  When I would think I'd been at the practice forever and the timer hadn't gone off, I'd look to see if I'd forgotten to start it.  I had.

This week, I've noticed that the flow is much easier.  I actually pray and meditate for the full 20 minutes, and the timer goes off before I look.  Yeah!  I notice the breathing is more natural, and I easily get insights like the one today about just showing up for spiritual practice. Floating in gently like a feather, totally without the labor I experienced even two weeks ago. I believe Myss would say that I am making deposits to my prayer bank account.

I fully understand that it is the beginning of a new year, and many people start new things as resolutions.  I haven't been one of them.  I have usually taken some time at the New Year to reflect and assess how I'm doing at moving toward my intentions.  Then, I've made the effort to course correct.  I'd like to think that is what I am doing now.  I've shown up to write this blog every day.  I've exercised at least 15 minutes, and today, thanks to a social event away from the Metro, I hoofed 75 minutes on a springlike January day in Washington.  And, I've shown up for spiritual practice every day. Each of these things are getting easier each day that I do them.

When I am back to work, I understand that it will be harder, but now that I think about it, I am sure that these three practices are more important than anything else I could do for myself. Maybe that's been part of my problem in the past: I have thought that showing up for others was more important than showing up for things I do for myself. (That sounds like another post.) Not something I've been good about in the past, but it is a new year, and each is a new day in which I can just keep showing up.

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

For most of the last 51 months, my supervisor has made my life extremely difficult.  To say that at times it has been hell is not an exaggeration. It's not just me.  She seems to be an almost-equal opportunity difficult task master.  Over that time, I've watched myself go from being a strong, confident, and creative professional to a shrinking violet who has learned to stay under the radar.  I've lost my humor and my optimism.  By showing up as less than who I really am, I have lost some of my integrity.

Why do I tell you all that?  I think it is important for you to understand that relationship before I share what I am about to tell you.

Last Wednesday I said something to my boss in front of others. It was true, and I am sure it was hurtful.  As the hours passed, with each I felt more and more guilt and shame.  By evening, I had a long talk with myself about who I was and who I wanted to me.  The short answer: not like that. 

The first thing Thursday morning, I sought out my supervisor, and I apologized.  I said I knew what I'd said had been hurtful, and I was very sorry.  She accepted my apology with grace.  Later in the day she thanked me, and I again said how sorry I had been.

Nothing she had done over the last four years justified my being unkind. My unkindness is about me, not about her. In fact, I think that my ability to not respond in kind in the face of her words and actions has been the mark of the person I choose to be.  When I started responding in kind, that is when I lost my ability to be who I choose to be.

What is interesting is what happened at that second meeting: we had what was probably the best conversation we've ever had.  Instead of continuing to shrink, my apology had given me the standing to be fully present in our meeting. I shared some things that had been on my heart for a long time.  I told her how limiting my job has become. She listened.

I am not sure what forgiveness means in this context.  I have certainly not forgotten all the injustices I've suffered at her hand.  However, I am tired of this relationship as it has been.  In fact, I am tired.  The environment in which my team works is exhausting, and work that used to exhilarate me now leaves me drained.  I am also tired of leaving my stuff at home every day.  Dumbing down doesn't suit me, and it is totally out of character and integrity.  In this situation, I think that forgiveness means clearing the air so that I may fully show up again.

Some would say she doesn't deserve it.  In retrospect, I don't think I did it for her.  I did it for me.  I offered her an olive branch because I didn't like that I was becoming like her.  I didn't like that I was showing up out of character and integrity.  Since my Thursday afternoon meeting, I have recalled a quote, "Forgiveness is the gift you give yourself."  I don't know who the original source is, but I've seen it work time and again with clients.  This week I saw it work for me.

Perhaps what forgiveness does for us is remind us that we've all done something at some time that we were not proud of.  My sharpness with my boss on Wednesday morning was a knife in me, reminding me of who I was becoming, and I didn't like it. By recognizing that my own imperfections, I was humbled to accept her own.   It has been a tortuous route to a level playing field, but I hope we have finally arrived.

Showing Up

"Just write!"  For over 20 years I've had a file, named "Just write!" on whatever was my then-current computer. When I needed to write something--a chapter in a book, a newspaper column, or an article for my employer newsletter--and didn't feel inspired, I'd just open that file and start writing whatever came to my mind without any censorship.  Once I started writing, the words always started flowing, and by the time I'd finished, I usually had some really good material.  Of course, I usually had to heavily edit or even cut the beginning, but when I totally surrendered to my muse, magic happened.

Since I started writing this blog almost four months ago, I've almost never been at a loss for words.  Often times, I'll have a waking thought, hear a phrase that resonates with me, or even feel myself inspired by another topic after I've posted and turned off my computer at night.  I keep a list, and most of the time, when I just look at the list, something inspires me.  I like some of the topics on my current list, but none feel right for today.  When I listened, what I heard was "just write!"  This may be my inner knowing's equivalent of Woody Allen's "80 percent of life is just showing up."

What to say?  It's always been important for me to write just exactly what I hear.  Like, "what to say?" Then, more comes.  I am very tired.  It has been a very busy week, and the first in several weeks during which we've worked five days. A lot of potential clients decide that the start of the year is a good time to work with their teams, like a professional New Year's Resolution.  I still struggle with an eye that hasn't worked well for some time and seems to be even worse since September surgery. It is very tired tonight. This all feels like drivel to me. Why don't I just give it up tonight? Because "80 percent of life is just showing up," when I don't feel like it and don't have anything to say.

I will spare you any more drivel, but will leave with this thought: where in my life/where in your life is it time to just show up?  I am sure this relates to yesterday's listening.  Just listen to where it is time for you to show up...and then show up!