Into each of our lives fall some people who are very special. In almost an instant, we know who those people are. In the "shoulds" of the world, we "should" hold those people very close and never, ever let go. Perhaps it is the vantage point of having crossed more than a few birthdays that gives me that wisdom. It should be a no-brainer, but apparently, for me, it wasn't.
Although my college roommate is probably my closest friend in the world, and the one that I have hung onto most closely over the years, there were many of calendars that came and went without more than a phone conversation. Whenever we have had a rendezvous, it was always like we'd just dropped off the day before, but they just didn't happen often enough. Last fall we had the opportunity to spend a few days together, and I realized that we should really make a point to spend more time together.
Through the miracle of modern technology, we've been walking and talking together--a joint effort to exercise regularly, as well as stay connected. We are doing it through our smartphones. We both walk in different states, but do so while talking to each other. I've been savoring those work-outs. Last week I scheduled to visit her again in the late spring. I am really looking forward to it.
At the end of this month, I will spend time with one of those special people. When we visit and try to explain to others why we are such good friends, it makes no sense. Just something clicked in the beginning and we're fast friends. The fact that she has brought to beautiful little girls into the world that I adore is just a bonus.
I am getting a second chance at another one of those very special relationships. I can't tell you exactly when we drifted apart, but the how is that I let my life get too busy for people who were very special to me. It wasn't a conscious decision. I was too busy for a call or too busy to plan a visit. From their perspective, I can imagine it might have seemed that when I got married and moved to another town that I had moved beyond the relationship. That really wasn't true at all.
Before I knew it, 20 years had passed...then more. I wanted to reach out but really agonized about what to say that would make 20 years of non-communication seem OK, because there was nothing about it that was OK. A year or two ago I made the decision that there was no way I could make it OK, and if I wanted to see these people again, I had to swallow my pride, reach out, and simply say I was sorry. I thought it was better to write. I got no response. Considering that I hadn't been communicating all that time, that seemed reasonable.
When the right season came, I sent a Christmas card. Silence. I'd long since forgotten birthdays. I waited hopefully but not expectedly.
A few months ago, I received a Facebook friend request. I accepted. I really don't do much with Facebook, but this was a way to reestablish contact. Over a few months of sporadic Facebook communications, I discovered we still had the same things in common that had first brought us together.
Yesterday, she sent out a post of a picture of her husband, also a close friend, marking a landmark birthday with their youngest granddaughter on his lap. I responded. Tonight we talked for an hour. Just as with the roommate, it was like we'd seen each other yesterday. At the end of the conversation was the most sincere "We love you!" that I can imagine. I teared up. How could I have drifted so far from this important relationship?
I am not sure how it happened, but as I write this, I am still full of warm fuzzies. I am also savoring the wisdom to hang on for dear life to people that are very special. In the end, the relationships we have are really all we have.
Showing posts with label spiritual lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiritual lessons. Show all posts
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Saturday, March 4, 2017
Persistence Pays
October 1, 2013 -- The U. S. Government closed its doors, and after a badly needed good night's sleep, I got up with purpose. I should have been concerned...maybe even frightened...about how I would pay the bills until my next paycheck at some unknown date. I wasn't. Instead, I went for a long walk on a beautiful October day. It felt great to move. It felt even better to break the shackles of my workplace and have time when nothing was scheduled. Bonus time if you will.
When I had blown the cobwebs out of my mind on the walk, I came back with the intention to accomplish two priority projects. And, I think, intuitively, I knew this recharge time was to kick me in the rear and propel me into what was to be next.
The first was to start posting regularly to this blog. I'd set up the site a couple years earlier, and just 10 days before the shutdown, I'd made my first post. I had no mastery of the mechanics, though. I posted a request for help on my building's bulletin board, and within a day, an angel in my building came over after her workout one evening and walked me through all the peculiarities of blogspot. By the time the government shut down, I was ready to roll. With the gift of time, I started writing. In the last three months of 2013, I made 100 posts.
The second of the projects was to get a more polished version of The Game Called Life onto Amazon and a Kindle edition published. Regular readers will know that this has been my serious work for the intervening three-plus years. I am nothing if not slow...and persistent. I accomplished the former in late January.* When I returned from volunteer work at a DC theatre at 11 p.m. last night, a message from Amazon reported that the Kindle version is now available.+
The Game Called Life is a very personal treasure to me. Both the writing of the book and its sponsorship smacked of divine intervention. I am happy to finally have broader distribution. I believe that it defines how we spiritually dance through life with divine intent. For many years, almost every reader was known to me or blog reader/commenter Amy Frost personally. When I gave up my home over a decade ago, I shipped most of my inventory to Amy, who became my main distribution channel. (Bless you, Amy!)
I truly don't know what this accomplishment will mean to the book or to me, but it feels like a huge albatross, which has been blocking me energetically, has been cast off. My persistence has paid off.
This morning, I awakened much earlier than I have been recently, bounced from bed with purpose, and was compelled to start clearing the work boxes from my closet. That project is not yet done, but I made a major dent in the project. I made several trips to the recycle bin, but found myself not quite able to throw away some major creative projects that I had done either by myself or with a close colleague. I am allowing myself grace. I am fairly confident that I will not ever use that small remaining pile, but I am granting myself a reprieve until I am ready. (Maybe there will be a second sweep.) I did make sure to leave a box in the middle of the closet so I will have to walk over it. I will persist with the project.
When I emerged from the closet in the late afternoon, I rewarded myself with a manicure/pedicure, and while I was being pampered and relaxed, ideas about the coaching business just started flowing. I came home a worked for about an hour capturing them. And, not unlike the closet project, I am giving myself grace with the coaching business as well. I am going to create simple materials on my own computer, and if/when I feel like I want to invest more, I can do that later. I am not going to spend money or energy on marketing, but I now that I have clarity of intention and being clear about intention is all I need right now.
Persistence has paid off in all of these areas, and clearing out the closet is creating energetic space for new things. I am eager for the new. While tomorrow is supposed to be a splendid day, and I don't work on my Sabbath any way, come Monday, I expect to be back in my closet.
For all of you who have supported me through these publishing projects, thank you.
If you have people who may be interested in knowing more, links to the book and Kindle edition are below.
Book:
* https://www.amazon.com/Game-Called-Life-Kay-Gilley/dp/0972198717/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1488684202&sr=1-2&keywords=Gilley+The+game+Called+Life
Kindle:
+ https://www.amazon.com/Game-Called-Life-Kay-Gilley-ebook/dp/B06XDJJ566/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1488684270&sr=1-1&keywords=Gilley+The+game+Called+Life
(Purchasers of the book, get the Kindle for free.)
When I had blown the cobwebs out of my mind on the walk, I came back with the intention to accomplish two priority projects. And, I think, intuitively, I knew this recharge time was to kick me in the rear and propel me into what was to be next.
The first was to start posting regularly to this blog. I'd set up the site a couple years earlier, and just 10 days before the shutdown, I'd made my first post. I had no mastery of the mechanics, though. I posted a request for help on my building's bulletin board, and within a day, an angel in my building came over after her workout one evening and walked me through all the peculiarities of blogspot. By the time the government shut down, I was ready to roll. With the gift of time, I started writing. In the last three months of 2013, I made 100 posts.
The second of the projects was to get a more polished version of The Game Called Life onto Amazon and a Kindle edition published. Regular readers will know that this has been my serious work for the intervening three-plus years. I am nothing if not slow...and persistent. I accomplished the former in late January.* When I returned from volunteer work at a DC theatre at 11 p.m. last night, a message from Amazon reported that the Kindle version is now available.+
The Game Called Life is a very personal treasure to me. Both the writing of the book and its sponsorship smacked of divine intervention. I am happy to finally have broader distribution. I believe that it defines how we spiritually dance through life with divine intent. For many years, almost every reader was known to me or blog reader/commenter Amy Frost personally. When I gave up my home over a decade ago, I shipped most of my inventory to Amy, who became my main distribution channel. (Bless you, Amy!)
I truly don't know what this accomplishment will mean to the book or to me, but it feels like a huge albatross, which has been blocking me energetically, has been cast off. My persistence has paid off.
This morning, I awakened much earlier than I have been recently, bounced from bed with purpose, and was compelled to start clearing the work boxes from my closet. That project is not yet done, but I made a major dent in the project. I made several trips to the recycle bin, but found myself not quite able to throw away some major creative projects that I had done either by myself or with a close colleague. I am allowing myself grace. I am fairly confident that I will not ever use that small remaining pile, but I am granting myself a reprieve until I am ready. (Maybe there will be a second sweep.) I did make sure to leave a box in the middle of the closet so I will have to walk over it. I will persist with the project.
When I emerged from the closet in the late afternoon, I rewarded myself with a manicure/pedicure, and while I was being pampered and relaxed, ideas about the coaching business just started flowing. I came home a worked for about an hour capturing them. And, not unlike the closet project, I am giving myself grace with the coaching business as well. I am going to create simple materials on my own computer, and if/when I feel like I want to invest more, I can do that later. I am not going to spend money or energy on marketing, but I now that I have clarity of intention and being clear about intention is all I need right now.
Persistence has paid off in all of these areas, and clearing out the closet is creating energetic space for new things. I am eager for the new. While tomorrow is supposed to be a splendid day, and I don't work on my Sabbath any way, come Monday, I expect to be back in my closet.
For all of you who have supported me through these publishing projects, thank you.
If you have people who may be interested in knowing more, links to the book and Kindle edition are below.
Book:
* https://www.amazon.com/Game-Called-Life-Kay-Gilley/dp/0972198717/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1488684202&sr=1-2&keywords=Gilley+The+game+Called+Life
Kindle:
+ https://www.amazon.com/Game-Called-Life-Kay-Gilley-ebook/dp/B06XDJJ566/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1488684270&sr=1-1&keywords=Gilley+The+game+Called+Life
(Purchasers of the book, get the Kindle for free.)
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Interdependence
In keeping with my discovery that interdependence would likely be an important spiritual lesson for me on this next leg of my journey, I had an amazing "ladybugs*" experience today. As part of my health coach training, I am required to conduct a free workshop for three to five people in the next week. I've been attempting to recruit participants for two weeks. A friend agreed early on, but no one else had volunteered. I had put signs up on every bulletin board of which I was aware.
In desperation, I contacted people who teach two exercise classes in my building to see if I could come, make an announcement, and hand out flyers. Both agreed. Like ladybugs, participants just appeared...maybe more than I can comfortably accommodate in my little apartment. Both teachers were enthusiastic about what I am doing.
As it ends up, most of the volunteers are my neighbors. I have met all but one, but didn't even know last names for most or even where their apartments were. They were interested in what I was doing, and they were happy to come and learn what I have to teach. As easy as that, I had my volunteers.
With the exception of a few physical therapy exercises added after two different accidents, I've been doing the some strength-training workout for 35 years. As I've gotten more into the exercise part of the health coaching, I've been thinking that I really should hire a personal trainer to reevaluate my needs and update my routine. I didn't really know how to find one. One of the teachers who helped me recruit is a personal trainer. Voila! I have a personal trainer.
Interdependence. Not only is this easier than trying to do things by myself, but it is more fun too.
*"Ladybugs," 1/17/17
In desperation, I contacted people who teach two exercise classes in my building to see if I could come, make an announcement, and hand out flyers. Both agreed. Like ladybugs, participants just appeared...maybe more than I can comfortably accommodate in my little apartment. Both teachers were enthusiastic about what I am doing.
As it ends up, most of the volunteers are my neighbors. I have met all but one, but didn't even know last names for most or even where their apartments were. They were interested in what I was doing, and they were happy to come and learn what I have to teach. As easy as that, I had my volunteers.
With the exception of a few physical therapy exercises added after two different accidents, I've been doing the some strength-training workout for 35 years. As I've gotten more into the exercise part of the health coaching, I've been thinking that I really should hire a personal trainer to reevaluate my needs and update my routine. I didn't really know how to find one. One of the teachers who helped me recruit is a personal trainer. Voila! I have a personal trainer.
Interdependence. Not only is this easier than trying to do things by myself, but it is more fun too.
*"Ladybugs," 1/17/17
Saturday, January 28, 2017
The Only Lesson
Yesterday I committed to a new spiritual path, one on which I would explore the more pleasant side of the journey. Already I am finding that isn't so easy.
Earlier this week I watched an episode of "The Late Show" from the first week of January. Oprah Winfrey was Stephen Colbert's guest. They were talking about resolutions, and Oprah said she'd stopped making them because they always got complicated. She would resolve for something that was something she wanted, and then as the year progressed she discovered the more difficult sides of that wish.
Every topic I've ever taken on as a major writing project has similarly gotten complicated. A book about courage resulted in my facing every major fear in my life. A book about living consciously sucked me into a chaotic period when I lost whole years without really choosing me.
Night before last I enumerated a long list of desirable spiritual lessons. Then in my meditation I discovered that if I only accomplished being present and being conscious of my choices--and those demanded that I do them together, I would accomplish the others.
Immediately, as if I'd been writing with ink it wouldn't have dried yet, I found myself facing a relatively easy test. The Skype pop-up message that tells me when a friend is online popped up as I was writing. At about midnight an old friend, who shares my strong tendency for "nightowlness" (my word) signed on, and I got the message. I really wanted to talk to the friend with whom I hadn't spoken for about a year, and I really wanted to write.
I had just committed to being in the present and making conscious decisions. Normally, I would have kept writing, and I was conscious of that habit. That would not have been a conscious choice: it would have been a habitual one. I also knew that in the past I'd let myself be distracted from writing by fun diversions, and I made a commitment at the beginning of the year that I was going to write every day.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and knew that I should reach out. I did. My friend and I had a great conversation. We laughed a lot. I felt lighter and more energized. And, what self-respecting nightowl is going to let herself be held back from writing because of a relatively early midnight conversation? I wrote afterward, easily. I had made the right decision.
Today I must admit that I was neither conscious of my decisions or in the present much of the day. I had several things that I "needed" to do, and I set about doing them until I discovered in the late afternoon that I had really missed the day. I prepared dinner and ate consciously, choosing foods that I liked and that were healthy.
Then about mid-evening I checked my email, and there was an invitation to do something after church tomorrow. It is something that is definitely way outside my comfort zone, and I had already made plans to do something I've been wanting to do for weeks at the same time. The invitation was to do something relating to one of my "things to explore." I really don't know which I will do, but I know two things for sure. First, I am glad that I am being conscious of the decision. Second, I probably won't know which I will choose until I "check in" and am present to what my heart wants after church tomorrow.
This is what Oprah was talking about, and it is what I experienced with my books. When we nod to the Universe that we are holding the intention to learn a particular lesson, we will very quickly be given the lessons. I have had hints of a couple other opportunities to learn this lesson on the horizon.i am being present to what is in front of me now. When I said that I was ready to learn the more pleasant spiritual lessons, I should have been clear that I don't expect them to be easy. Just different. For now, I am holding on for whatever my "only lesson" has in store.
Earlier this week I watched an episode of "The Late Show" from the first week of January. Oprah Winfrey was Stephen Colbert's guest. They were talking about resolutions, and Oprah said she'd stopped making them because they always got complicated. She would resolve for something that was something she wanted, and then as the year progressed she discovered the more difficult sides of that wish.
Every topic I've ever taken on as a major writing project has similarly gotten complicated. A book about courage resulted in my facing every major fear in my life. A book about living consciously sucked me into a chaotic period when I lost whole years without really choosing me.
Night before last I enumerated a long list of desirable spiritual lessons. Then in my meditation I discovered that if I only accomplished being present and being conscious of my choices--and those demanded that I do them together, I would accomplish the others.
Immediately, as if I'd been writing with ink it wouldn't have dried yet, I found myself facing a relatively easy test. The Skype pop-up message that tells me when a friend is online popped up as I was writing. At about midnight an old friend, who shares my strong tendency for "nightowlness" (my word) signed on, and I got the message. I really wanted to talk to the friend with whom I hadn't spoken for about a year, and I really wanted to write.
I had just committed to being in the present and making conscious decisions. Normally, I would have kept writing, and I was conscious of that habit. That would not have been a conscious choice: it would have been a habitual one. I also knew that in the past I'd let myself be distracted from writing by fun diversions, and I made a commitment at the beginning of the year that I was going to write every day.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and knew that I should reach out. I did. My friend and I had a great conversation. We laughed a lot. I felt lighter and more energized. And, what self-respecting nightowl is going to let herself be held back from writing because of a relatively early midnight conversation? I wrote afterward, easily. I had made the right decision.
Today I must admit that I was neither conscious of my decisions or in the present much of the day. I had several things that I "needed" to do, and I set about doing them until I discovered in the late afternoon that I had really missed the day. I prepared dinner and ate consciously, choosing foods that I liked and that were healthy.
Then about mid-evening I checked my email, and there was an invitation to do something after church tomorrow. It is something that is definitely way outside my comfort zone, and I had already made plans to do something I've been wanting to do for weeks at the same time. The invitation was to do something relating to one of my "things to explore." I really don't know which I will do, but I know two things for sure. First, I am glad that I am being conscious of the decision. Second, I probably won't know which I will choose until I "check in" and am present to what my heart wants after church tomorrow.
This is what Oprah was talking about, and it is what I experienced with my books. When we nod to the Universe that we are holding the intention to learn a particular lesson, we will very quickly be given the lessons. I have had hints of a couple other opportunities to learn this lesson on the horizon.i am being present to what is in front of me now. When I said that I was ready to learn the more pleasant spiritual lessons, I should have been clear that I don't expect them to be easy. Just different. For now, I am holding on for whatever my "only lesson" has in store.
Friday, January 27, 2017
Turning My Spiritual Journey Upside Down
My normal sequence is to write, meditate, and go to bed, so I get the privilege of meditating and "sleeping on" whatever bubbled up in my writing. So it was last night after having written that I'd like "at the very least to allow the spiritual lesson to be to learn to enjoy these wondrous moments."
I really unleashed something. When I was meditating, I "got" that there are spiritual lessons in the good stuff...and I really need to learn them. A whole list of potential lessons spilled out: learn to
I really unleashed something. When I was meditating, I "got" that there are spiritual lessons in the good stuff...and I really need to learn them. A whole list of potential lessons spilled out: learn to
- Be conscious of all the choices I make during the day
- Be fully present
- Have fun
- Be in joy: enjoy life more
- Find peace in whatever is occurring
- Laugh
- Find humor
- Love
- Receive love
- Be grateful
- Appreciate
....There were many more. I clearly have a lot of work to do. But, as I continued to meditate, I kept coming back to the first two. I cannot be conscious of all the choices I make during the day if I am not fully present. If I am fully present, I will be conscious of all the things I normally do on autopilot and start making those choices consciously. I expect that if I do those two things, the others will take care of themselves. And, that concept has turned my spiritual journey upside down...in a good way.
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Hang on!?
I've been in such a nice place over the last few days that I've been tempted to fall into a chair with arms and legs spread open, relax, and maybe even laugh out loud. This feels so good. I'm having fun with class. I'm delighted with my exploration and experimenting with new healthy recipes. I've been getting exercise. I'm clicking one or two items off my "things-to-do" list every day. I'm not even stressing about money.
Technology challenges have dominated that list, mainly because dealing with them is usually so stress-inducing that I put them off until I can't do so any longer. Yesterday I spent two hours on a technical support call with the nicest man. I felt like I was in good hands. During long gaps while software was uploading, we talked about a lot of things. We laughed. At the end, I thanked him for taking such good care of me; he said I'd made his day.
Alas the problem wasn't solved. Today, at his suggestion, I headed to the Apple Genius Bar to continue working on it. While I was there, another technician worked on a problem I was having with my new iPhone. I felt really supported by the two technicians dealing with the separate problems. I even laughed with one of them. Not once did I feel stressed.
That was the pinch-myself moment to make sure that efforts to induce more dreams hadn't resulted in daydreams. No, I was awake. This was all real.
I felt so good that I mused about maybe I'd learned whatever spiritual lessons I needed to learn in this life, and I could just enjoy the rest of my life just like I've been doing the last few days.
I remembered times in the past when I'd been in similar periods of my life. There were different spiritual lessons: not easy but I felt like I was going with the flow of the lessons, instead of struggling. The last 17 years have been a struggle, or more accurately, I've felt like I was in a river of struggles, attempting to keep my head above water.
I recall a time decades ago when I'd been drifting down the wild and scenic Rogue River in Oregon with a friend. We were at a very wide and calm spot, where we were both splayed across the raft, drinking in the sun, hats down over our faces. Suddenly, my friend let out with an expletive, followed by "Hang on!!" Our relaxed reverie was abruptly interrupted as we went crashing over a waterfall, dropping us several feet into a pool of whitewater where we struggled and fought to move out of the whirlpool.
Each time I've been in one of these "good spots," I have would be thrust into a pool of spiritual lessons for months or even years. Each time the lessons presented to me were more challenging than the previous cycle and developed different parts of me. I have dramatically evolved spiritually during this sequence of periods of challenge. In each, like struggling to get out of the whirlpool at the bottom of the waterfall, one day I would realize I'd finally made it out.
I'd love to think that the last--the longest by far--would be the last, but for those of us with the intention to evolve our souls, I think there must always be lessons. In The Game Called Life I say that in our lives we have three things to accomplish:
Technology challenges have dominated that list, mainly because dealing with them is usually so stress-inducing that I put them off until I can't do so any longer. Yesterday I spent two hours on a technical support call with the nicest man. I felt like I was in good hands. During long gaps while software was uploading, we talked about a lot of things. We laughed. At the end, I thanked him for taking such good care of me; he said I'd made his day.
Alas the problem wasn't solved. Today, at his suggestion, I headed to the Apple Genius Bar to continue working on it. While I was there, another technician worked on a problem I was having with my new iPhone. I felt really supported by the two technicians dealing with the separate problems. I even laughed with one of them. Not once did I feel stressed.
That was the pinch-myself moment to make sure that efforts to induce more dreams hadn't resulted in daydreams. No, I was awake. This was all real.
I felt so good that I mused about maybe I'd learned whatever spiritual lessons I needed to learn in this life, and I could just enjoy the rest of my life just like I've been doing the last few days.
I remembered times in the past when I'd been in similar periods of my life. There were different spiritual lessons: not easy but I felt like I was going with the flow of the lessons, instead of struggling. The last 17 years have been a struggle, or more accurately, I've felt like I was in a river of struggles, attempting to keep my head above water.
I recall a time decades ago when I'd been drifting down the wild and scenic Rogue River in Oregon with a friend. We were at a very wide and calm spot, where we were both splayed across the raft, drinking in the sun, hats down over our faces. Suddenly, my friend let out with an expletive, followed by "Hang on!!" Our relaxed reverie was abruptly interrupted as we went crashing over a waterfall, dropping us several feet into a pool of whitewater where we struggled and fought to move out of the whirlpool.
Each time I've been in one of these "good spots," I have would be thrust into a pool of spiritual lessons for months or even years. Each time the lessons presented to me were more challenging than the previous cycle and developed different parts of me. I have dramatically evolved spiritually during this sequence of periods of challenge. In each, like struggling to get out of the whirlpool at the bottom of the waterfall, one day I would realize I'd finally made it out.
I'd love to think that the last--the longest by far--would be the last, but for those of us with the intention to evolve our souls, I think there must always be lessons. In The Game Called Life I say that in our lives we have three things to accomplish:
- Be of service
- Develop our gifts and talents
- Learn the spiritual lessons our soul chose.
Quite frankly, if it is OK with the Universe, I'd really like to scratch the last off my list or at the very least allow the spiritual lesson be to learn to enjoy these wondrous moments. That's a lesson I could really get into. I would also consider spending the rest of my life working on the first two, but even as I say that I know that even doing that will bring lessons.
For today, I am enjoying being in a good place, and I'd really like to do that for a bit longer--maybe even years. And, if another waterfall/whirlpool awaits, I'll worry about that when it gets here.
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Always Be Ready
If you've been reading this blog for any time at all, you know that I watch for "spiritual trends" that are sending me a message. Over the last five hours, I've been bombarded with the message "Always be ready."
The Old Testament reading in church this morning was from Isaiah, and the prophet was saying to the Jewish people to be ready because they never knew when the "savior" would appear.
A few minutes later The New Testament lesson was to early Christians to always be ready because they never knew when their savior would return. A further admonition from the passage was that you couldn't wait until you thought the time was imminent to change behavior because there wouldn't be that opportunity. We had to always be ready.
I awakened this morning with a raspy throat. I've been fighting a cold for several days, and my initial instinct was to curl up in bed and get some extra rest before leaving on a business trip. Almost as quickly as I had the thought, I remembered what I'd written in my last post about consulting my inner compass before making decisions. When I did, I clearly knew I was to go to church. If I hadn't, I would have missed those lessons.
As I returned from church and started to make lunch, I thought my mind darted to habit. Since I was out with friends last evening, I was going to flip on the replay of the "Hallmark Hall of Fame" presentation that I'd missed. In my last post I wrote that I planned to spend my Sunday afternoon in a meditation on the floor of my bedroom closet, consciously choosing what would be part of my future and what I need to leave behind by December 21. I thought I was hedging on my commitment to watch a television program that I know will be replayed a number of times in December.
One thing that became very clear to me when writing Choice Point, my as-yet-unpublished book about life as a meditation, was that everything, every thing, is connected. There truly are no accidents or coincidences if we are listening: we will be led.
The gathering last night was a somewhat impromptu one, or I would have watched the program on its first broadcast. That is important because, without the scripture lessons this morning, I might have missed that the theme of this television play was also "always be ready" or more precisely to "live your life like there's no tomorrow." Could I have guessed that the gathering was contrived by the Universe to help me "get it"?
Fortunately, when I checked in, it became clear to me that I was to watch the Hallmark program. I thought to myself that I could bring some of the boxes into the living room and sort while viewing, but again a very clear message: the sorting was to be a meditation, and I couldn't watch TV and meditate. So I ate and watched, and then I just watched.
The protagonist in the movie was a woman who worked too much. (Anyone I know fill that bill?) As a consequence to a happy accident, she learns that she has been neglecting what is really important while giving every aspect of her life away to work, which we might say is pretty much what I've been doing over the last 16 years....maybe longer. Of course, since there are no original story lines in Hallmark movies, I won't be giving anything away when I stay she does get a second chance, and this time she remembers what is important to her and to those around her.
So it is that in five short hours, the Universe has bombarded me to remember what is important in my life, an important lesson any time, but especially as I've been looking at my overly busy December over several days and struggling to find a time to put up my Christmas tree.
I got a headache about two-thirds of the way through the movie. What is important? I have known for a long time that I've squandered my relationships, and I've struggled to know how to intentionally choose to build a different life. I am sure that quandary is what gave me the headache, which lingers even as I write.
I truly do not know the answer, but as I wrote in Choice Point, I don't need to know. I just need to consciously choose my path, and I will be led. That is all I need to know, and I will "always be ready."
The Old Testament reading in church this morning was from Isaiah, and the prophet was saying to the Jewish people to be ready because they never knew when the "savior" would appear.
A few minutes later The New Testament lesson was to early Christians to always be ready because they never knew when their savior would return. A further admonition from the passage was that you couldn't wait until you thought the time was imminent to change behavior because there wouldn't be that opportunity. We had to always be ready.
I awakened this morning with a raspy throat. I've been fighting a cold for several days, and my initial instinct was to curl up in bed and get some extra rest before leaving on a business trip. Almost as quickly as I had the thought, I remembered what I'd written in my last post about consulting my inner compass before making decisions. When I did, I clearly knew I was to go to church. If I hadn't, I would have missed those lessons.
As I returned from church and started to make lunch, I thought my mind darted to habit. Since I was out with friends last evening, I was going to flip on the replay of the "Hallmark Hall of Fame" presentation that I'd missed. In my last post I wrote that I planned to spend my Sunday afternoon in a meditation on the floor of my bedroom closet, consciously choosing what would be part of my future and what I need to leave behind by December 21. I thought I was hedging on my commitment to watch a television program that I know will be replayed a number of times in December.
One thing that became very clear to me when writing Choice Point, my as-yet-unpublished book about life as a meditation, was that everything, every thing, is connected. There truly are no accidents or coincidences if we are listening: we will be led.
The gathering last night was a somewhat impromptu one, or I would have watched the program on its first broadcast. That is important because, without the scripture lessons this morning, I might have missed that the theme of this television play was also "always be ready" or more precisely to "live your life like there's no tomorrow." Could I have guessed that the gathering was contrived by the Universe to help me "get it"?
Fortunately, when I checked in, it became clear to me that I was to watch the Hallmark program. I thought to myself that I could bring some of the boxes into the living room and sort while viewing, but again a very clear message: the sorting was to be a meditation, and I couldn't watch TV and meditate. So I ate and watched, and then I just watched.
The protagonist in the movie was a woman who worked too much. (Anyone I know fill that bill?) As a consequence to a happy accident, she learns that she has been neglecting what is really important while giving every aspect of her life away to work, which we might say is pretty much what I've been doing over the last 16 years....maybe longer. Of course, since there are no original story lines in Hallmark movies, I won't be giving anything away when I stay she does get a second chance, and this time she remembers what is important to her and to those around her.
So it is that in five short hours, the Universe has bombarded me to remember what is important in my life, an important lesson any time, but especially as I've been looking at my overly busy December over several days and struggling to find a time to put up my Christmas tree.
I got a headache about two-thirds of the way through the movie. What is important? I have known for a long time that I've squandered my relationships, and I've struggled to know how to intentionally choose to build a different life. I am sure that quandary is what gave me the headache, which lingers even as I write.
I truly do not know the answer, but as I wrote in Choice Point, I don't need to know. I just need to consciously choose my path, and I will be led. That is all I need to know, and I will "always be ready."
Friday, November 25, 2016
Endings...Beginnings...
While I am by no means an authority, for a long time I've been interested in the Jewish mystical study of numbers. I apologize for anyone out there, who may actually be an expert in this field if I in any way misrepresent the study of numerology, but I will do my best to share what I have taken from my limited exposure that applies to what has been on my heart lately. I do so completely from memory because, as often happens, I apparently loaned my book to someone who hasn't returned it...and I don't remember who that was.
Numerology looks at the Jewish Tree Of Life, a set of spiritual lessons, which each person works through in cycles of nine years. Each lesson has a feminine aspect and a masculine dimension. Throughout our lives, we repeat each of the nine lessons, one per year, and then we start the cycle over again. Some years the focus is the masculine side of the lesson; other years it is the feminine. Similar to the hero's journey about which I've written previously, although the basic lesson is the same each time, we go through more advanced versions of the lesson. We go through the cycles individually, and planetarily.
The cycle has been on my heart because the energy of the planet is now transitioning from the end of the cycle to the beginning of a new one. The transition began at the Jewish New Year (October 2-4 this year.) It will end at the Winter Solstice (December 21.) During that three and a half months, it is our spiritual work to "clean house." 2016 has been a "9" year, which is about endings. People often leave jobs, even careers, end relationships, sell houses, and let go other significant parts of our lives that have served their purpose, but with which we are finished.
By December 21, we should have cleaned out anything that is not part of a new beginning for us. What we carry into the 21st will be with us for another nine years. I've had this on my mind, but all of the sudden this week I realized that I just have a month left, and I haven't done much cleaning out. Frequent reader of this blog and my friend Amy Frost told me in the Super Moon, which occurred a couple weeks ago, that we should write down anything we wanted to let go of and then set the paper on fire, letting the smoke release the energy of the past into the atmosphere. That was a busy day, but I did some general letting go into smoke that day.
But I know I have way too much baggage to carry with me into the future. Let me count the ways.
Besides the energy of spiritual baggage, there is some literal baggage I am dealing with. Almost a year ago, construction in my apartment building's storage area required me to bring up everything from my storage unit. It has been sitting in my bedroom closet since then. I knew I needed to clean out, but I haven't made doing so a priority.
When I left my last job in August, I hastily packed up anything that was mine personally and brought five boxes home with me...also in my bedroom closet. (Fortunately, I have a bedroom closet big enough to party in.) I know there is a lot to be left behind there as well, but sorting through my office boxes has not been a priority either.
I thought I was going to have the time to just sit in my closet this weekend and sort, but I have allowed the approaching holidays and associated activities encroach on my time. I am not sure whether that is avoidance or choosing my future to be with friends...or a little of both. While I make an effort to keep my Sabbath sacred, I have decided that this spiritual sorting exercise is an appropriate Sabbath activity, and I will sit in my closet on Sunday afternoon.
I also have a desk at home that I have been sorting through for two weeks, and I am close to seeing the surface of at least a third of it now. There is more, for sure, but great progress. What remains are my time-consuming projects, and I am not sure when I will find the time, but doing so is a priority for me now.
There are bookshelves that are bulging as my appetite for new books always exceeds the time I have to read them. My folder of clipped recipes was so full at the beginning of last week that it wouldn't close. I am grateful for Thanksgiving and Christmas menu planning for nudging me to begin to go through it two evenings earlier in the week. There is more, but I have found that some of the recipes just don't look good any more, and pitching them has been easy.
When I think about what I want to take into the next nine years, though, more important than cleaning out "stuff" is being conscious of what habits I am ready to let go of and what new ones I want to choose for my future. As I reflect back over the last nine years, I think that this cycle has been about the time period during which I've forfeited the intentional life I had built and allowed myself to be overtaken by work, in every variety.
For decades, I ate healthfully, exercised daily, meditated at least once a day, did extended meditation retreats, danced several times a week, practiced gratitude daily, spent time with friends and laughed a lot. Morsel by morsel, most of that has slipped out of my life since 2007, and I want to reclaim "my" life and let go of whatever has consumed me.
New habits are formed in 30 days. I could be overwhelmed as I look at all the new habits I want to form. However, at least for me, I respond well to any positive change in my life. Intuitively, I know that if I change one thing, changing others seems much easier. I feel it is almost like flipping a switch back to the "real Kay," rather than changing eight different habits.
In my as-yet-unpublished book Choice Point, which I thought was "finished" in 1997, I wrote that life should be a meditation, and in each moment we should consciously ask, "Is this a 'yes' or is this a 'no?'" When I think about reclaiming my life, the question I need to ask isn't will I exercise or not today, it is "Will I be who Kay's soul intended her to be today?" A single question, applied to every situation, asked consciously. Life as a moment-by-moment meditation.
What I know in my heart is that all I want to carry into the next nine years is the consciousness to ask that question a 1,000 times every day...and the courage to act on what I know.
Numerology looks at the Jewish Tree Of Life, a set of spiritual lessons, which each person works through in cycles of nine years. Each lesson has a feminine aspect and a masculine dimension. Throughout our lives, we repeat each of the nine lessons, one per year, and then we start the cycle over again. Some years the focus is the masculine side of the lesson; other years it is the feminine. Similar to the hero's journey about which I've written previously, although the basic lesson is the same each time, we go through more advanced versions of the lesson. We go through the cycles individually, and planetarily.
The cycle has been on my heart because the energy of the planet is now transitioning from the end of the cycle to the beginning of a new one. The transition began at the Jewish New Year (October 2-4 this year.) It will end at the Winter Solstice (December 21.) During that three and a half months, it is our spiritual work to "clean house." 2016 has been a "9" year, which is about endings. People often leave jobs, even careers, end relationships, sell houses, and let go other significant parts of our lives that have served their purpose, but with which we are finished.
By December 21, we should have cleaned out anything that is not part of a new beginning for us. What we carry into the 21st will be with us for another nine years. I've had this on my mind, but all of the sudden this week I realized that I just have a month left, and I haven't done much cleaning out. Frequent reader of this blog and my friend Amy Frost told me in the Super Moon, which occurred a couple weeks ago, that we should write down anything we wanted to let go of and then set the paper on fire, letting the smoke release the energy of the past into the atmosphere. That was a busy day, but I did some general letting go into smoke that day.
But I know I have way too much baggage to carry with me into the future. Let me count the ways.
Besides the energy of spiritual baggage, there is some literal baggage I am dealing with. Almost a year ago, construction in my apartment building's storage area required me to bring up everything from my storage unit. It has been sitting in my bedroom closet since then. I knew I needed to clean out, but I haven't made doing so a priority.
When I left my last job in August, I hastily packed up anything that was mine personally and brought five boxes home with me...also in my bedroom closet. (Fortunately, I have a bedroom closet big enough to party in.) I know there is a lot to be left behind there as well, but sorting through my office boxes has not been a priority either.
I thought I was going to have the time to just sit in my closet this weekend and sort, but I have allowed the approaching holidays and associated activities encroach on my time. I am not sure whether that is avoidance or choosing my future to be with friends...or a little of both. While I make an effort to keep my Sabbath sacred, I have decided that this spiritual sorting exercise is an appropriate Sabbath activity, and I will sit in my closet on Sunday afternoon.
I also have a desk at home that I have been sorting through for two weeks, and I am close to seeing the surface of at least a third of it now. There is more, for sure, but great progress. What remains are my time-consuming projects, and I am not sure when I will find the time, but doing so is a priority for me now.
There are bookshelves that are bulging as my appetite for new books always exceeds the time I have to read them. My folder of clipped recipes was so full at the beginning of last week that it wouldn't close. I am grateful for Thanksgiving and Christmas menu planning for nudging me to begin to go through it two evenings earlier in the week. There is more, but I have found that some of the recipes just don't look good any more, and pitching them has been easy.
When I think about what I want to take into the next nine years, though, more important than cleaning out "stuff" is being conscious of what habits I am ready to let go of and what new ones I want to choose for my future. As I reflect back over the last nine years, I think that this cycle has been about the time period during which I've forfeited the intentional life I had built and allowed myself to be overtaken by work, in every variety.
For decades, I ate healthfully, exercised daily, meditated at least once a day, did extended meditation retreats, danced several times a week, practiced gratitude daily, spent time with friends and laughed a lot. Morsel by morsel, most of that has slipped out of my life since 2007, and I want to reclaim "my" life and let go of whatever has consumed me.
New habits are formed in 30 days. I could be overwhelmed as I look at all the new habits I want to form. However, at least for me, I respond well to any positive change in my life. Intuitively, I know that if I change one thing, changing others seems much easier. I feel it is almost like flipping a switch back to the "real Kay," rather than changing eight different habits.
In my as-yet-unpublished book Choice Point, which I thought was "finished" in 1997, I wrote that life should be a meditation, and in each moment we should consciously ask, "Is this a 'yes' or is this a 'no?'" When I think about reclaiming my life, the question I need to ask isn't will I exercise or not today, it is "Will I be who Kay's soul intended her to be today?" A single question, applied to every situation, asked consciously. Life as a moment-by-moment meditation.
What I know in my heart is that all I want to carry into the next nine years is the consciousness to ask that question a 1,000 times every day...and the courage to act on what I know.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Lesson 3: Be vulnerable
The third and final lesson I have to master in order to open my heart, find intimacy, and create connection is: be vulnerable. However, I want to make it clear that I don't think there is an order to the three lessons. I suspect that they are interrelated, and mastery of one will lead to mastery of all. Or, maybe mastery of all will require mastery of only one...but, which one?
By contrast, if I am willing to be vulnerable, I'll risk confronting things, people, and circumstances in my life that keep me from doing the things I love. Then I will be joyful.
Finally, if I make time for the things I love and love what I do, the bubble of God's love will provide the security to be vulnerable. I will most certainly be grateful and joyful.
So, slow down, Kay. Just be. Do what you love. Rejoice. Be vulnerable.
I am taking baby steps. I left work at 5 p.m. tonight even though my colleague who usually works late, and I choose to let me feel guilty, really wanted to talk about a project. I felt quite vulnerable making the choice, but I have to say that the building didn't quake because I left on time. She didn't protest even a whimper. I scheduled time tomorrow evening to talk with her, an evening when I have an extra hour to kill between work and a dance class. I will love working with her; she's great. I will love the dance class.
I had an extra two hours. I've done several things this evening that I at least enjoy, even if they aren't quite in the "love to do" category. I had leftovers from a meal out, but I took time to artfully arrange them on the plate and make a special labor-intensive salad. That I loved doing.
I've had some paperwork to complete a certification I started about six weeks ago. I've been putting off doing it. I just didn't think I could add one more thing to my plate. When I emailed the instructor that I needed to put it off for a while (being vulnerable,) she was relieved because she is over-taxed.
I really wonder how many times when I've pushed myself to near-exhaustion that I've pushed others as well. At the very least, my pushing back probably wouldn't have been a concern.
Even if any of the lessons will lead to the other two, I have a hunch that "be vulnerable" may actually be the easiest to bring to consciousness. I am not sure why, but I think that in any given situation, if I ask myself, "What will make me the most vulnerable?" that I will not fail--will not fail to be human. I will finally feel secure in abandoning superwoman. Sigh. What a relief just to say that!
In the spirit of full disclosure, I am not sure that I've ever totally mastered one of my lessons during a single year. I have always made progress. The way it has usually happened has been that sometime down the line, a year, two years, or five years, I will suddenly realize that I am doing the very thing that I'd committed to mastering. Once we set an intention, we unleash a powerful force to support our desires. Then acting in accordance with that choice incrementally carries us toward that intention.
I am unequivocal about choosing to open my heart, find intimacy, and create connection. I will master these lessons--one day at a time.
- Make time to do the things you love and love what you do
- This is the day the Lord hath made; rejoice and be glad in it.
- Be vulnerable
By contrast, if I am willing to be vulnerable, I'll risk confronting things, people, and circumstances in my life that keep me from doing the things I love. Then I will be joyful.
Finally, if I make time for the things I love and love what I do, the bubble of God's love will provide the security to be vulnerable. I will most certainly be grateful and joyful.
So, slow down, Kay. Just be. Do what you love. Rejoice. Be vulnerable.
I am taking baby steps. I left work at 5 p.m. tonight even though my colleague who usually works late, and I choose to let me feel guilty, really wanted to talk about a project. I felt quite vulnerable making the choice, but I have to say that the building didn't quake because I left on time. She didn't protest even a whimper. I scheduled time tomorrow evening to talk with her, an evening when I have an extra hour to kill between work and a dance class. I will love working with her; she's great. I will love the dance class.
I had an extra two hours. I've done several things this evening that I at least enjoy, even if they aren't quite in the "love to do" category. I had leftovers from a meal out, but I took time to artfully arrange them on the plate and make a special labor-intensive salad. That I loved doing.
I've had some paperwork to complete a certification I started about six weeks ago. I've been putting off doing it. I just didn't think I could add one more thing to my plate. When I emailed the instructor that I needed to put it off for a while (being vulnerable,) she was relieved because she is over-taxed.
I really wonder how many times when I've pushed myself to near-exhaustion that I've pushed others as well. At the very least, my pushing back probably wouldn't have been a concern.
Even if any of the lessons will lead to the other two, I have a hunch that "be vulnerable" may actually be the easiest to bring to consciousness. I am not sure why, but I think that in any given situation, if I ask myself, "What will make me the most vulnerable?" that I will not fail--will not fail to be human. I will finally feel secure in abandoning superwoman. Sigh. What a relief just to say that!
In the spirit of full disclosure, I am not sure that I've ever totally mastered one of my lessons during a single year. I have always made progress. The way it has usually happened has been that sometime down the line, a year, two years, or five years, I will suddenly realize that I am doing the very thing that I'd committed to mastering. Once we set an intention, we unleash a powerful force to support our desires. Then acting in accordance with that choice incrementally carries us toward that intention.
I am unequivocal about choosing to open my heart, find intimacy, and create connection. I will master these lessons--one day at a time.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Lesson 2 -- This is the Day the Lord Hath Made
The second spiritual lesson that I am undertaking for the year ahead as a result of my retreat in Greece is to celebrate each and every day in its perfection. Those who read "Coveting" (10/2/14) will recall that I was deeply moved by the concept that any time we wish for anything in our lives to be different than what it is, we are "coveting." We miss the value of what is because we are caught up in what it might be.
During my reflective time I pondered, how would I word an intention for growth that meant "loving what is." Each time I would think about it, a single scripture would immediately come to me:
"This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
If I was not going to wish my life to be different than the gift God had given me, that scripture captured what I needed to do. I must be aware that God had made this particular day expressly and intentionally for me. This day is God's gift to me, whatever it is. My job is to rejoice and be glad about the gift, not to complain about what God had chosen not to give me in this day.
I will be the very first to say, this is a very difficult lesson. First, I have to keep myself conscious each and every day that this day is God's gift to me. That is the really hard part. When I remember that the day is God's gift, I find that being intentional about rejoicing in what is happening is easier. That old thing about being conscious is the hard part.
You will recall that my intention for the year ahead is to open my heart, find intimacy, and create connection. I cannot do any of those without being conscious. Even more important though is that if I am wishing to be somewhere else having some other kind of experience, I will be guarded and defensive. If I am guarded, how will I ever open my heart, and without an open heart, I am hopeless for find intimacy or create connection.
Today celebrating the day God had made for me was easy. It was the most perfect blue sky, sunny autumn day imaginable. I had almost nothing I had to do. I just completely enjoyed everything I did: you might say I was rejoicing and being glad. The challenge will come tomorrow when I am thrust back into my work environment. This is my spiritual lesson, and it will be work. And, I will rejoice and be glad about learning this important lesson.
During my reflective time I pondered, how would I word an intention for growth that meant "loving what is." Each time I would think about it, a single scripture would immediately come to me:
"This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
If I was not going to wish my life to be different than the gift God had given me, that scripture captured what I needed to do. I must be aware that God had made this particular day expressly and intentionally for me. This day is God's gift to me, whatever it is. My job is to rejoice and be glad about the gift, not to complain about what God had chosen not to give me in this day.
I will be the very first to say, this is a very difficult lesson. First, I have to keep myself conscious each and every day that this day is God's gift to me. That is the really hard part. When I remember that the day is God's gift, I find that being intentional about rejoicing in what is happening is easier. That old thing about being conscious is the hard part.
You will recall that my intention for the year ahead is to open my heart, find intimacy, and create connection. I cannot do any of those without being conscious. Even more important though is that if I am wishing to be somewhere else having some other kind of experience, I will be guarded and defensive. If I am guarded, how will I ever open my heart, and without an open heart, I am hopeless for find intimacy or create connection.
Today celebrating the day God had made for me was easy. It was the most perfect blue sky, sunny autumn day imaginable. I had almost nothing I had to do. I just completely enjoyed everything I did: you might say I was rejoicing and being glad. The challenge will come tomorrow when I am thrust back into my work environment. This is my spiritual lesson, and it will be work. And, I will rejoice and be glad about learning this important lesson.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Do What You Love, and Love What You Do
In my "Layers of Learning" post (October 9,) I shared that my year-end/year-beginning reflective time this year had not led to any major Aha! moments, but instead kept presenting lessons that I have already been working on for years, only in different forms. Every time I would bump into a lesson and examine it, I would almost always see familiarity. "Oh, that again!" This week I'd like to explore the three big lessons that I will continue to focus on this year.
"Do What You Love, and Love What You Do" may actually be two, but they seem to fit together so I am going to consider them as one.
"Do What You Love" has haunted me for some time. I love writing. I love dancing. Right after those two come cooking tasty and healthy food and watching movies. I am actually much better about the cooking and watching movies than my core loves of writing and dancing. Perhaps that is because I need to eat every day, and I want to eat healthfully. In a lot of ways, I've let cooking become a survival activity rather than a passion.
The difference in how I approach what I love ties to the "Love What You Do" part of the lesson. Over the weekend, I watched a movie (twice) about a chef who really was passionate about his cooking. In the movie, we see him growing and harvesting his own vegetables and herbs and deriving great pleasure in "listening to his heart" as he cooked. At one point, viewers see him mentoring an aspiring chef by blind-folding her so that she will learn to listen to her inner knowing about food.
Too often, my cooking has fallen into an auto-pilot activity rather than being something I approach with the passion of the movie chef. It wasn't always so. There was a time when I approached cooking as a dance, engaging with the food I was preparing with great joy. I still enjoy going to the Farmers' Market around the corner on Saturday morning, but rarely do I stop and drink in the sights and smells and let my imagination run wild the way I used to do. I recall a time when I would walk out on my deck with a bowl and grab hands-full of fresh herbs, which I'd use to make up recipes.
It's been way too long since I had a relationship with the food I prepare. I blame time, but when I am honest with myself, I know that it doesn't take appreciatively longer time to engage and really experience the love of what I am doing than it does to do the same activity mindlessly. The difference isn't time. The difference is consciousness and intention. I bring the intention to be really awake to my passion for the activity, and then I am conscious of doing so.
What else is true is that when I bring that intention and consciousness to my efforts in the kitchen, my whole being changes. I am physically relaxed. I am spiritually engaged. I am joyful. I am creative. My activities are easy, effortless, and enjoyable--in a "flow" state when I lose track of time and everything else. When I consume the products of effortless labor, I truly en-joy them...I am in joy with what I eat. Until I face the dirty pots and pans, all lines are blurred into a single oneness of being. (Even clean-up is less onerous when I allow myself to flow to it.)
Although I watch a lot of movies, the same thing might be said of how I experience them any more. More often than not, the movie comes at the end of a very long day, and watching a movie is a passive activity to keep my exhausted body awake until a respectable hour for an adult to go to sleep. I don't really engage with the movie most of the time.
Saturday I joined in a ritual movie event with two friends who also love movies. Every couple of months, the screenwriter in our trio picks two classic films for us to watch. In the middle, we usually take a walk and cook/eat together. I was conscious this time about how different it is when I participate in these conscious-viewing events than the passive consuming, which has become my norm. As with cooking, I will bring more attention and intention to my passion for movies in the future. I will not only do what I love, but I will consciously bring love to the movies I watch.
I hesitate to call the other two things that I love "activities." Each is at the core of my being. I've had the conversation with people in the dance community before that there are "dancers," and there are "people who dance." "People who dance" can take it or leave it. They could as easily go bowling or play tennis if they were in a relationship with someone who enjoys those activities.
"Dancers," by contrast, are one with dance. They could more easily give up breathing than dance. Dancing almost instantly takes them into a "flow" state where the dimensions of time and space drop away. I've had evenings when I had a good partner(s), good music, and a good floor, when the time for the "last waltz" was announced, and I felt as if I'd just arrived. I had totally lost track of time. Once I danced for seven hours straight, and it felt like a flash.
There are often moments of "other worldliness" to a single dance, too, when the partners will just look at each other at the end of the dance because they know something magical just happened. (This is not a romantic thing; it is a dance thing. I really don't know how else to describe it.)
Similarly with writing: it is who I am. I carry a knot on the second finger of my right hand from writing since I could hold a pencil. When I sit and get in the flow, it just comes. I lose track of time and bodily needs, often going hours without food, water, or elimination. I just don't notice. I wrote The Game Called Life in five days, one day writing 32 pages. I really don't know how I did it. As with the "other worldliness" of the magical dance, I always feel like I am one with some divine force within me when I write.
There are excuses why I have not been writing and dancing much recently. I could blame the long hours at work, but that is getting lame. I know that I've been unconsciously choosing work over my passions. My colleagues with families leave work earlier to be with what they love, but until now, I've not made it my intention to put what I love first. I have other excuses, too, but they all boil down to being conscious of my intentions and then acting on them to assure that I do what I love.
A third dimension of loving what I do and doing what I love looms for me. It involves the actual work I do. Organization development is a wide field. Some parts of it I really love. Others, not so much. Some parts of the profession that I used to really love have burned me out. Call it compassion fatigue. What used to flip my switches now sends me into a semi-fetal position at my desk.
When I had my own business, I made a conscious decision to turn away work that I didn't enjoy. As an employee consultant, that is a luxury I no longer have. I do what I am assigned to do. "We all have to do things we don't enjoy," I am told. I have expressed my desires, but mostly they have been disregarded. I need to either learn to love the "not-so-much" stuff and do it with love, or I need to find another way to earn a living that allows me to do what I love. Maybe both.
As you can see, the Universe has left me a lot of room to grow myself this year in "Do What You Love, and Love What You Do," and at its essence that lesson is to be intentional and then be conscious of how I live my life. I should be "in love" all the time. That is how we are intended to be. At that point, I believe I've segued from spiritual lessons to life purpose.
Friday I Skyped with a friend in Canada, and I said to him that this was going to be a year of intense personal growth. He asked me how I knew. "The lessons I am working on this year are at the very core of who I am," I said.
While I am certain that I will pass through these lessons more times in what I expect to be a long life, I am confident that if I embrace them this year they will profoundly impact the rest of my life, bringing joy and resilience to my days. I feel like if I can "get it" this time, I may be in a position to really do the transformational work with others that I am here to do. While humbling, the prospect is exciting...and terrifying.
I recall the words of an executive that I coached 20 years ago. They resonated such truth that they are always with me. She said that she had become convinced that when we were on our uniquely defined, divine path that we would simultaneously feel unabated joy and sheer terror. As I embrace this year's lessons, they foreshadow just such a spot in my life.
"Do What You Love, and Love What You Do" may actually be two, but they seem to fit together so I am going to consider them as one.
"Do What You Love" has haunted me for some time. I love writing. I love dancing. Right after those two come cooking tasty and healthy food and watching movies. I am actually much better about the cooking and watching movies than my core loves of writing and dancing. Perhaps that is because I need to eat every day, and I want to eat healthfully. In a lot of ways, I've let cooking become a survival activity rather than a passion.
The difference in how I approach what I love ties to the "Love What You Do" part of the lesson. Over the weekend, I watched a movie (twice) about a chef who really was passionate about his cooking. In the movie, we see him growing and harvesting his own vegetables and herbs and deriving great pleasure in "listening to his heart" as he cooked. At one point, viewers see him mentoring an aspiring chef by blind-folding her so that she will learn to listen to her inner knowing about food.
Too often, my cooking has fallen into an auto-pilot activity rather than being something I approach with the passion of the movie chef. It wasn't always so. There was a time when I approached cooking as a dance, engaging with the food I was preparing with great joy. I still enjoy going to the Farmers' Market around the corner on Saturday morning, but rarely do I stop and drink in the sights and smells and let my imagination run wild the way I used to do. I recall a time when I would walk out on my deck with a bowl and grab hands-full of fresh herbs, which I'd use to make up recipes.
It's been way too long since I had a relationship with the food I prepare. I blame time, but when I am honest with myself, I know that it doesn't take appreciatively longer time to engage and really experience the love of what I am doing than it does to do the same activity mindlessly. The difference isn't time. The difference is consciousness and intention. I bring the intention to be really awake to my passion for the activity, and then I am conscious of doing so.
What else is true is that when I bring that intention and consciousness to my efforts in the kitchen, my whole being changes. I am physically relaxed. I am spiritually engaged. I am joyful. I am creative. My activities are easy, effortless, and enjoyable--in a "flow" state when I lose track of time and everything else. When I consume the products of effortless labor, I truly en-joy them...I am in joy with what I eat. Until I face the dirty pots and pans, all lines are blurred into a single oneness of being. (Even clean-up is less onerous when I allow myself to flow to it.)
Although I watch a lot of movies, the same thing might be said of how I experience them any more. More often than not, the movie comes at the end of a very long day, and watching a movie is a passive activity to keep my exhausted body awake until a respectable hour for an adult to go to sleep. I don't really engage with the movie most of the time.
Saturday I joined in a ritual movie event with two friends who also love movies. Every couple of months, the screenwriter in our trio picks two classic films for us to watch. In the middle, we usually take a walk and cook/eat together. I was conscious this time about how different it is when I participate in these conscious-viewing events than the passive consuming, which has become my norm. As with cooking, I will bring more attention and intention to my passion for movies in the future. I will not only do what I love, but I will consciously bring love to the movies I watch.
I hesitate to call the other two things that I love "activities." Each is at the core of my being. I've had the conversation with people in the dance community before that there are "dancers," and there are "people who dance." "People who dance" can take it or leave it. They could as easily go bowling or play tennis if they were in a relationship with someone who enjoys those activities.
"Dancers," by contrast, are one with dance. They could more easily give up breathing than dance. Dancing almost instantly takes them into a "flow" state where the dimensions of time and space drop away. I've had evenings when I had a good partner(s), good music, and a good floor, when the time for the "last waltz" was announced, and I felt as if I'd just arrived. I had totally lost track of time. Once I danced for seven hours straight, and it felt like a flash.
There are often moments of "other worldliness" to a single dance, too, when the partners will just look at each other at the end of the dance because they know something magical just happened. (This is not a romantic thing; it is a dance thing. I really don't know how else to describe it.)
Similarly with writing: it is who I am. I carry a knot on the second finger of my right hand from writing since I could hold a pencil. When I sit and get in the flow, it just comes. I lose track of time and bodily needs, often going hours without food, water, or elimination. I just don't notice. I wrote The Game Called Life in five days, one day writing 32 pages. I really don't know how I did it. As with the "other worldliness" of the magical dance, I always feel like I am one with some divine force within me when I write.
There are excuses why I have not been writing and dancing much recently. I could blame the long hours at work, but that is getting lame. I know that I've been unconsciously choosing work over my passions. My colleagues with families leave work earlier to be with what they love, but until now, I've not made it my intention to put what I love first. I have other excuses, too, but they all boil down to being conscious of my intentions and then acting on them to assure that I do what I love.
A third dimension of loving what I do and doing what I love looms for me. It involves the actual work I do. Organization development is a wide field. Some parts of it I really love. Others, not so much. Some parts of the profession that I used to really love have burned me out. Call it compassion fatigue. What used to flip my switches now sends me into a semi-fetal position at my desk.
When I had my own business, I made a conscious decision to turn away work that I didn't enjoy. As an employee consultant, that is a luxury I no longer have. I do what I am assigned to do. "We all have to do things we don't enjoy," I am told. I have expressed my desires, but mostly they have been disregarded. I need to either learn to love the "not-so-much" stuff and do it with love, or I need to find another way to earn a living that allows me to do what I love. Maybe both.
As you can see, the Universe has left me a lot of room to grow myself this year in "Do What You Love, and Love What You Do," and at its essence that lesson is to be intentional and then be conscious of how I live my life. I should be "in love" all the time. That is how we are intended to be. At that point, I believe I've segued from spiritual lessons to life purpose.
Friday I Skyped with a friend in Canada, and I said to him that this was going to be a year of intense personal growth. He asked me how I knew. "The lessons I am working on this year are at the very core of who I am," I said.
While I am certain that I will pass through these lessons more times in what I expect to be a long life, I am confident that if I embrace them this year they will profoundly impact the rest of my life, bringing joy and resilience to my days. I feel like if I can "get it" this time, I may be in a position to really do the transformational work with others that I am here to do. While humbling, the prospect is exciting...and terrifying.
I recall the words of an executive that I coached 20 years ago. They resonated such truth that they are always with me. She said that she had become convinced that when we were on our uniquely defined, divine path that we would simultaneously feel unabated joy and sheer terror. As I embrace this year's lessons, they foreshadow just such a spot in my life.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Left Hanging
When I was catching up with a friend in a phone conversation last night, I suddenly realized how many situations in my life in the last few days have been "left hanging." Everything from an inactivated key fob to my apartment building to whom no one responded to calls and a similarly unreturned phone call from a merchant who double-billed my credit card to a potential trip to the West Coast to work in less than a week and a week-long training the following week. There was a message that was supposed to go out to all of our employees that just seemed to vanish, and several of us sought but couldn't figure out where it went.
As I was commuting to work this morning, I got an email that "left hanging" an important meeting that I am facilitating in less than a month which involves people commuting from all over the country. There are several other situations in which I find myself waiting for a decision from someone else.
Any time I find a "similar lesson" recurring in my life, I take notice. I ask myself what the spiritual lesson here is to learn. I am still scratching my head on this one. By nature, I am pretty relaxed: I'm certainly far from a control-freak. I spent enough years in business for myself to be accustomed to being "left hanging" for months on end for a potential client to come through, and I've been an employee consultant long enough to be used to being pushed and pulled at someone else's whim. And, generally, how ever things work out, they usually work out for the best, so what's to be uptight about?
None of these situations would have even gotten my attention if it hadn't been for the realization that almost nowhere in my life do I know what is happening even tomorrow and certainly not a week from now. I cannot believe that this is mere coincidence, but what am I to learn? Maybe that others don't care about leaving me hanging so I shouldn't care about them? I am a caring person. I can't imagine that is the lesson.
I really wish that I had an answer to share. What I can tell you is that I started the day with the Babbling Brook again, and I listened once again during the day. Through all of this "spiritual school," I'm relaxed and at peace. Maybe it is a test, and if that is the case, I think I am passing. All is well...and left hanging.
As I was commuting to work this morning, I got an email that "left hanging" an important meeting that I am facilitating in less than a month which involves people commuting from all over the country. There are several other situations in which I find myself waiting for a decision from someone else.
Any time I find a "similar lesson" recurring in my life, I take notice. I ask myself what the spiritual lesson here is to learn. I am still scratching my head on this one. By nature, I am pretty relaxed: I'm certainly far from a control-freak. I spent enough years in business for myself to be accustomed to being "left hanging" for months on end for a potential client to come through, and I've been an employee consultant long enough to be used to being pushed and pulled at someone else's whim. And, generally, how ever things work out, they usually work out for the best, so what's to be uptight about?
None of these situations would have even gotten my attention if it hadn't been for the realization that almost nowhere in my life do I know what is happening even tomorrow and certainly not a week from now. I cannot believe that this is mere coincidence, but what am I to learn? Maybe that others don't care about leaving me hanging so I shouldn't care about them? I am a caring person. I can't imagine that is the lesson.
I really wish that I had an answer to share. What I can tell you is that I started the day with the Babbling Brook again, and I listened once again during the day. Through all of this "spiritual school," I'm relaxed and at peace. Maybe it is a test, and if that is the case, I think I am passing. All is well...and left hanging.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Sisyphus?
In Greek mythology Sisyphus was a king who was known for deceitfulness. His punishment in the afterlife was to push a huge boulder up a steep hill, and just as he was about to reach the pinnacle, the boulder would slip, and he would be forced to follow it down. Then, the process of pushing the boulder up the hill would start all over again.
For whatever reason, sometimes my life seems like I'm living out Sisyphus' punishment. There have been a number of periods in my life during which I really struggled financially. Just when I would be able to see the light of day, something unexpected (usually a shift in one market or other) would occur, and I'd be starting over.
I've encountered Sisyphus in my health as well. "Health" isn't really the right word. My overall health is excellent, but I've struggled with pain issues for 23 years. In recent months, the annoyance has been the sight in my right eye. If it's not one irritation, it's another.
I'm tired. I am ready for life to be easier. So far, no magic easy pill has appeared. Somehow I just keep on keeping on...and being pretty happy along the way. The way I figure it, I can be cross pushing that boulder up the hill, or I can be happy. Both those around me and I enjoy life more when I choose the latter.
I was talking to a friend the other day about my memoir, and she spoke to how resilient I had been. I guess I have. As I sat to write this, I googled "resilience." No shortage of material on resilience out there, but the description I love the best was from Psychology Today: "Resilience is that ineffable quality that allows some people to be knocked down by life and come back stronger than ever."
What I liked most about it was the word "ineffable." I just liked the sound and feel of the word; it has a happy feel to it. I looked that up, too. "Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words."
Put together, we get "That too great or extreme quality to be expressed in words that allows some people to be knocked down by life, and come back stronger than ever." How cool! That reminds me of a song I learned as a youngster, "Get yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again." I like that my friend thinks of me that way.
A couple days ago I was recovering from a challenging week, facing taxes and paying bills, a writing deadline in front of me, as a cold was settling in for a stay. I wanted to go to bed and sleep for a few days. I didn't. I wrote instead. The more I wrote, the better I felt.
When I start doing something I love, things just magically get better. In the painful days after a break-up, I ran. I'd take off with tears running down my cheeks, and by the time I was home, I always felt great. Sometimes I dance. Other times I garden. Still other times, I cook. This weekend, I wrote.
I think resilience must be a bit of a chicken and egg thing. Is resilience what makes me do the things I love, thus allowing me to bounce back? Or, is doing what I love what gives me resilience? Or, does it matter? I think not.
Life has thrown me a curve ball or ten, and I have always bounced back. I always learn something along the way, and most of the time I make new friends on the journey. Most of the time I don't even whine much any more. Maybe I've developed my resilience muscle.
Although the definition implies that only some people have resilience, I wonder if resilience isn't something we choose. Let's say I bring the intention that this next trip up the hill is going to be an adventure, and I will meet some interesting new people along the way. Odds are on that I will appear to be resilient, but not because I have a special mysterious quality. I will appear to be resilient because I choose to be. I've written many times that everything in life is a choice point. I've just chosen to be resilient, and that makes magic happen.
For whatever reason, sometimes my life seems like I'm living out Sisyphus' punishment. There have been a number of periods in my life during which I really struggled financially. Just when I would be able to see the light of day, something unexpected (usually a shift in one market or other) would occur, and I'd be starting over.
I've encountered Sisyphus in my health as well. "Health" isn't really the right word. My overall health is excellent, but I've struggled with pain issues for 23 years. In recent months, the annoyance has been the sight in my right eye. If it's not one irritation, it's another.
I'm tired. I am ready for life to be easier. So far, no magic easy pill has appeared. Somehow I just keep on keeping on...and being pretty happy along the way. The way I figure it, I can be cross pushing that boulder up the hill, or I can be happy. Both those around me and I enjoy life more when I choose the latter.
I was talking to a friend the other day about my memoir, and she spoke to how resilient I had been. I guess I have. As I sat to write this, I googled "resilience." No shortage of material on resilience out there, but the description I love the best was from Psychology Today: "Resilience is that ineffable quality that allows some people to be knocked down by life and come back stronger than ever."
What I liked most about it was the word "ineffable." I just liked the sound and feel of the word; it has a happy feel to it. I looked that up, too. "Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words."
Put together, we get "That too great or extreme quality to be expressed in words that allows some people to be knocked down by life, and come back stronger than ever." How cool! That reminds me of a song I learned as a youngster, "Get yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again." I like that my friend thinks of me that way.
A couple days ago I was recovering from a challenging week, facing taxes and paying bills, a writing deadline in front of me, as a cold was settling in for a stay. I wanted to go to bed and sleep for a few days. I didn't. I wrote instead. The more I wrote, the better I felt.
When I start doing something I love, things just magically get better. In the painful days after a break-up, I ran. I'd take off with tears running down my cheeks, and by the time I was home, I always felt great. Sometimes I dance. Other times I garden. Still other times, I cook. This weekend, I wrote.
I think resilience must be a bit of a chicken and egg thing. Is resilience what makes me do the things I love, thus allowing me to bounce back? Or, is doing what I love what gives me resilience? Or, does it matter? I think not.
Life has thrown me a curve ball or ten, and I have always bounced back. I always learn something along the way, and most of the time I make new friends on the journey. Most of the time I don't even whine much any more. Maybe I've developed my resilience muscle.
Although the definition implies that only some people have resilience, I wonder if resilience isn't something we choose. Let's say I bring the intention that this next trip up the hill is going to be an adventure, and I will meet some interesting new people along the way. Odds are on that I will appear to be resilient, but not because I have a special mysterious quality. I will appear to be resilient because I choose to be. I've written many times that everything in life is a choice point. I've just chosen to be resilient, and that makes magic happen.
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