A reader forwarded my challenge to change the world in 30 days (12/1/13) to a friend. The friend responded that her husband "wins at this game daily--and he didn't even know he was playing." What a gift this man has! And, dare I say, I suspect the wife is richly blessed by this relationship as well.
I have several spiritual practices that I've repeated periodically for most of 20 years: twice a year meditation retreat, gratitude journaling, gratitude meditation (9/24/13, 11/26/13,) rotating affirmations, and The Grocery Store Game (10/25/13). Sometimes they will go along predictably for many cycles, and just when I think I know what to expect, the Universe throws me a curve ball and gives me a new lesson to learn. I thank I can confidently say the curve balls have always been pleasant, just not what I expected.
My Thanksgiving gratitude meditation, which I've done for many years, for instance, took a new twist this year. I've usually counted on my memory to recall each day and its gifts. This year, I decided to enlist technology in my preparation. Before I began my meditation, I went through my Outlook and iPhone calendars for the year, and I made note of things all year. I can't say that I wouldn't have thought of all of them when I sat, but refreshing my memory was lovely. A number of times I found myself smiling and remembering a conversation warmly. Two friends--one across the country and the other in Canada--became standing conversation appointments. How they enriched my life last year. Having a reminder for lots of little things, like a new haircut/style and renting a car for a gardening adventure in March, was rich...a most pleasant surprise.
This afternoon, I had an Aha! moment about this round of The Grocery Store Game. In the past my connections have been with people I didn't know and usually non-verbal. I have had some of those, but to my delight today, I recognized that the game was surprising me this round. Most of my days at work are spent on a dead run. I think most people would say that I am friendly: I always smile and cheerfully greet people. Rarely, however, do I stop and talk to people as I move around the building. I did that several times today. At about 3:30 as I finished one such delightful conversation with someone I really don't know well, it occurred to me what was happening. I was getting to know people who in the past had only been superficial acquaintances. What a sweet surprise!
I love surprises, and I find it such a gift to let life deliver surprises to me when I least expect them. Even more a gift is being present enough to notice!
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Monday, December 2, 2013
Living with Intention: It's about Priorities
I was talking with a colleague today about my gratitude meditation. She said, "I don't have time for meditation." I said , "It's not about time: it's about priorities."
This is a lesson I learned too well this weekend. I had almost finished with my preparations for The Game Called Life when the government shutdown ended on October 17. "One more day," I'd said, "and I would have been finished." So close, but in 40 days I hadn't made finishing the book a priority. Then, on Thanksgiving Day, by grace, all the families that I usually spend holidays with were away. Ah, I thought, this is my chance.
I wanted to start day with my gratitude meditation; then a walk seemed in order since it was a beautiful, if crisp, day. I am a cook; I couldn't allow this food holiday to pass without cooking and, of course, eating. Then, I watched a couple movies that I can't even recall now. By that time, I wrote my blog and fell into bed. Oops! No time for The Game Called Life. It's not about time: it's about priorities.
That evening after I brushed my teeth, I took a long look into the mirror. Kay, where are your priorities? Well, it is clear that they hadn't been with The Game Called Life.
Saturday morning I got up, got cleaned up, and before I would let myself do anything, I edited. I am truly embarrassed to say that in under three hours, I had the manuscript marked and changes made to the electronic copy. Three hours! In 40 days I hadn't made time for a three-hour task. Saturday I lived my priorities.
Living with intention is simply knowing what is important and putting it first, every single day. By the magnitude of a thousand small decisions, we create our lives. When we live with intention, our decisions are conscious ones, rather than ones made mindlessly by default, as I'd been doing frittering away time over the last 40 days.
You see, my colleague really was living intentionally. She has aging parents that she cares for and teen and young adult children. At this stage in her life, they are her priorities. Living with intention is living our priorities, and that is exactly what she is doing.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
This is a lesson I learned too well this weekend. I had almost finished with my preparations for The Game Called Life when the government shutdown ended on October 17. "One more day," I'd said, "and I would have been finished." So close, but in 40 days I hadn't made finishing the book a priority. Then, on Thanksgiving Day, by grace, all the families that I usually spend holidays with were away. Ah, I thought, this is my chance.
I wanted to start day with my gratitude meditation; then a walk seemed in order since it was a beautiful, if crisp, day. I am a cook; I couldn't allow this food holiday to pass without cooking and, of course, eating. Then, I watched a couple movies that I can't even recall now. By that time, I wrote my blog and fell into bed. Oops! No time for The Game Called Life. It's not about time: it's about priorities.
That evening after I brushed my teeth, I took a long look into the mirror. Kay, where are your priorities? Well, it is clear that they hadn't been with The Game Called Life.
Saturday morning I got up, got cleaned up, and before I would let myself do anything, I edited. I am truly embarrassed to say that in under three hours, I had the manuscript marked and changes made to the electronic copy. Three hours! In 40 days I hadn't made time for a three-hour task. Saturday I lived my priorities.
Living with intention is simply knowing what is important and putting it first, every single day. By the magnitude of a thousand small decisions, we create our lives. When we live with intention, our decisions are conscious ones, rather than ones made mindlessly by default, as I'd been doing frittering away time over the last 40 days.
You see, my colleague really was living intentionally. She has aging parents that she cares for and teen and young adult children. At this stage in her life, they are her priorities. Living with intention is living our priorities, and that is exactly what she is doing.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Could We Change the World in 30 Days?
December is officially upon us with the long dark days it brings on either side of the Winter Solstice. I've been thinking: what better time of the year to bring more light into our days than December? And, even better, what if we could change the world in the 30 days that remain? I just think it might be possible. Here's what I have in mind.
A little over a month ago, I wrote about The Grocery Store Game (The Grocery Store Game, 10/25/13) and then on Friday I shared conversations about the need of each of us to be treated with human dignity (Being the Change, 11/29/13.) I started thinking about what if everyone who reads this blog commits to playing The Grocery Store Game for the month of December. For those who didn't read the 10/25 post, the short version is that we use every interaction with others as an opportunity to create connection. The game gets its name from its origins with grocery store checkers and clerks. Look them in the eye, see their human dignity, and create a connection. You can do this with people on the phone, as well, just allow yourself to be present to the human being on the other end of the line.
Opportunities are literally everywhere. I had a brief conversation with a homeless man today, in which I connected. However, I failed to connect with a man who looked through me at church as he shook my hand while looking elsewhere. I was successful with the cashier at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I can see treating co-workers, spouses, and children with human dignity. It doesn't cost anything. It really takes negligibly more time. All it takes is the intention to connect and respect our fellow human beings.
Of course, it would be great if we could spend the month of December connecting with the human dignity in everyone we interact with, but if that is a stretch, if we would just agree to connect with at least three people each day, what a difference we could make. Even better is to enlist others in the game. I suspect that there will be a multiplier effect during this month when many are so busy because we will be reversing a trend of non-connection.
When I am playing the game, I find it helpful at the end of each day to keep track of who I really connected with. (You don't need names. The produce clerk at Safeway will do.) Think of it as "keeping score," although everyone wins in this game. I also find that when I have "puny" days that I bring even more intention to the next day. In the next 30 days, if each reader connected with just three people, that would be 90 connections in the month per person. Consider 10-11 or 25 connections. You can do the math.
It is easy to think that we really can't do much to change the state of the world, but when I consider how many thousands of connections that this blog's readers can create in just one month, I am truly hopeful. Even better is that it takes 30 days of doing something consistently to form a habit. If each of you actually does this for the month of December, we could form a habit of interacting with others from human dignity.
I invite you play and share the game with friends...and share your stories about connection in comments. What a wonderful way to close 2013...and start a new way of being for 2014! Thanks for doing what you can do to change the world in 30 days.
A little over a month ago, I wrote about The Grocery Store Game (The Grocery Store Game, 10/25/13) and then on Friday I shared conversations about the need of each of us to be treated with human dignity (Being the Change, 11/29/13.) I started thinking about what if everyone who reads this blog commits to playing The Grocery Store Game for the month of December. For those who didn't read the 10/25 post, the short version is that we use every interaction with others as an opportunity to create connection. The game gets its name from its origins with grocery store checkers and clerks. Look them in the eye, see their human dignity, and create a connection. You can do this with people on the phone, as well, just allow yourself to be present to the human being on the other end of the line.
Opportunities are literally everywhere. I had a brief conversation with a homeless man today, in which I connected. However, I failed to connect with a man who looked through me at church as he shook my hand while looking elsewhere. I was successful with the cashier at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I can see treating co-workers, spouses, and children with human dignity. It doesn't cost anything. It really takes negligibly more time. All it takes is the intention to connect and respect our fellow human beings.
Of course, it would be great if we could spend the month of December connecting with the human dignity in everyone we interact with, but if that is a stretch, if we would just agree to connect with at least three people each day, what a difference we could make. Even better is to enlist others in the game. I suspect that there will be a multiplier effect during this month when many are so busy because we will be reversing a trend of non-connection.
When I am playing the game, I find it helpful at the end of each day to keep track of who I really connected with. (You don't need names. The produce clerk at Safeway will do.) Think of it as "keeping score," although everyone wins in this game. I also find that when I have "puny" days that I bring even more intention to the next day. In the next 30 days, if each reader connected with just three people, that would be 90 connections in the month per person. Consider 10-11 or 25 connections. You can do the math.
It is easy to think that we really can't do much to change the state of the world, but when I consider how many thousands of connections that this blog's readers can create in just one month, I am truly hopeful. Even better is that it takes 30 days of doing something consistently to form a habit. If each of you actually does this for the month of December, we could form a habit of interacting with others from human dignity.
I invite you play and share the game with friends...and share your stories about connection in comments. What a wonderful way to close 2013...and start a new way of being for 2014! Thanks for doing what you can do to change the world in 30 days.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Into Me See
I often prepare for my semi-annual meditation retreats by choosing a book to read in the days before that will focus my intentions for the days of reflection. Almost 15 years ago, I picked a book in which the author talked at length about intimacy. (Sorry, I looked for the reference, and I can't find it.) What really stood out in my mind was how intimacy was described as "into me see." I recall the description of creating intimacy as allowing oneself to be seen, unvarnished, by others.
As my meditation began, everything that I'd ever done in my life that I wasn't particularly proud, even going back into childhood, drifted into my meditation, forcing me to make peace with it, and then letting it drift away. After about 18 hours, I felt clean and clear. The remaining days of my retreat were remarkable--truly an otherworldly experience.
After that, I began sharing some of the less pretty parts of my history--things that I would have been concerned that others would learn--in speeches and in writing. My life literally became an open book. An interesting thing began to happen. Every time I shared a story, it got smaller and smaller, until it just disappeared.
The things that we harbor as guilt, blame, shame, or embarrassment become a increasingly heavy burden that we drag through life. The spiritual journey is challenging enough without doing it with the burden of the past, holding us back. I wrote about perfectionism in Leading from the Heart. It is a damaging tendency and one with which I have struggled.
Since first writing about how to do the journey, I felt like I had to do it perfectly to be authentic. How silly! No one is perfect, least of all me. In face of a lifelong struggle with perfectionism, the inevitability and purposefulness of imperfection on our journeys had been a challenge for me. I now understand that what is important isn't doing it perfectly, but having the intention to keep moving forward in spite of setbacks...even when that may feel like two steps forward and one back many days.
In the early days of this blog, one reader remarked that it was intensely personal. That was my intention--no varnish. Sharing my challenges and imperfection in this blog has felt to me a bit like the early days of that retreat years ago. Although I don't even know who you are, the intimacy and trust I feel with my readers have lightened my burdens and have drawn me ever closer to who I want to be.
As my meditation began, everything that I'd ever done in my life that I wasn't particularly proud, even going back into childhood, drifted into my meditation, forcing me to make peace with it, and then letting it drift away. After about 18 hours, I felt clean and clear. The remaining days of my retreat were remarkable--truly an otherworldly experience.
After that, I began sharing some of the less pretty parts of my history--things that I would have been concerned that others would learn--in speeches and in writing. My life literally became an open book. An interesting thing began to happen. Every time I shared a story, it got smaller and smaller, until it just disappeared.
The things that we harbor as guilt, blame, shame, or embarrassment become a increasingly heavy burden that we drag through life. The spiritual journey is challenging enough without doing it with the burden of the past, holding us back. I wrote about perfectionism in Leading from the Heart. It is a damaging tendency and one with which I have struggled.
Since first writing about how to do the journey, I felt like I had to do it perfectly to be authentic. How silly! No one is perfect, least of all me. In face of a lifelong struggle with perfectionism, the inevitability and purposefulness of imperfection on our journeys had been a challenge for me. I now understand that what is important isn't doing it perfectly, but having the intention to keep moving forward in spite of setbacks...even when that may feel like two steps forward and one back many days.
In the early days of this blog, one reader remarked that it was intensely personal. That was my intention--no varnish. Sharing my challenges and imperfection in this blog has felt to me a bit like the early days of that retreat years ago. Although I don't even know who you are, the intimacy and trust I feel with my readers have lightened my burdens and have drawn me ever closer to who I want to be.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Being the Change We Want to See
The Pope has set off quite a stir this week. His comments were a major subject on three different weekly news analysis programs this evening and generated two emails to me from non-believers not accustomed to pay the Pope much attention. What he said shouldn't have been that earth-shattering. He said that trickle-down economics doesn't work, and that the rich are getting richer and the poor getting poorer. Income inequality has been a major concern of economists for some time, and that it is happening, and has been for some time, is supported by solid data.
So, then why are his remarks creating such a stir? One commentator spoke to the fact that we are each human beings with a right to dignity and basics of food, clothing, shelter, and health care. Another conversation spoke of his authenticity in spurning the trappings of his position, living simply, and helping the poor. These are not the normal grist for news analysis. I say, "Hurrah!" that he has started a conversation.
Earlier this evening another story brought a topic to the news that we don't usually hear. A Mormon bishop in Utah dressed as a homeless person and had a professional make-up artist create a realistic disguise. He stood outside the church, greeting parishioners as they arrived for church last Sunday. A few were nice to him, but most ignored him. Some disparaged him. One even asked him to leave the church property.
When he came in front of the congregation and removed his disguise, the bishop said the gasps were audible. Some even cried. I got a lump in my throat, listening and thinking about a couple of homeless men that I walk by most every day, without even making eye contact with them. Like many in the bishop's congregation probably did, I think of myself as a good person. Me the person who wants us all to connect, heart to heart, and I don't even look at the homeless people.
So, I circle back to the pope's authenticity. People listen because he walks his talk. He is able to start a dialogue about human dignity because he lives that which he speaks. Thank you, Pope Francis, for showing us how to walk our talk. This evening I will pray for authenticity, that, as Gandhi said, I may be the change I want to see in the world.
So, then why are his remarks creating such a stir? One commentator spoke to the fact that we are each human beings with a right to dignity and basics of food, clothing, shelter, and health care. Another conversation spoke of his authenticity in spurning the trappings of his position, living simply, and helping the poor. These are not the normal grist for news analysis. I say, "Hurrah!" that he has started a conversation.
Earlier this evening another story brought a topic to the news that we don't usually hear. A Mormon bishop in Utah dressed as a homeless person and had a professional make-up artist create a realistic disguise. He stood outside the church, greeting parishioners as they arrived for church last Sunday. A few were nice to him, but most ignored him. Some disparaged him. One even asked him to leave the church property.
When he came in front of the congregation and removed his disguise, the bishop said the gasps were audible. Some even cried. I got a lump in my throat, listening and thinking about a couple of homeless men that I walk by most every day, without even making eye contact with them. Like many in the bishop's congregation probably did, I think of myself as a good person. Me the person who wants us all to connect, heart to heart, and I don't even look at the homeless people.
So, I circle back to the pope's authenticity. People listen because he walks his talk. He is able to start a dialogue about human dignity because he lives that which he speaks. Thank you, Pope Francis, for showing us how to walk our talk. This evening I will pray for authenticity, that, as Gandhi said, I may be the change I want to see in the world.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Living Each Day As If It Were My Last
How do we arrive at the end of our lives with a sense of having missed nothing? I have barely scratched the surface of my "bucket list"--the list of things I want to do before I "kick the bucket" at the end of life. But I think that it is possible to have a sense of not having missed anything without having done everything we had hoped to do. I know that may sound contradictory, but I believe it is so.
About a week ago I saw a time travel movie. At the end the protagonist said that better than being able to go to other times that he had loved when he was there was living each day as if it were his last. Of course, there were then pictures of him being really present with his wife, children, work, and just walking down the street. That thought has spun me around several times over in the last week.
Last night a man who had read The Alchemy of Fear and contacted me shared some of his photographs.* They are extraordinary, and I shared them with some friends of mine who enjoy photography. We agree that he has a great eye and an amazing ability to capture light. But, as I have pondered his pictures over the last day, I am guessing what makes them so wonderful is his presence. As I looked at some of the scenes he captured, I wondered, might I have just walked by and not even noticed the pictures of life that he caught?
In preparation for the great Thanksgiving feed today, I walked. It was a beautiful day, and I tried to really live it, capturing sights, smells, and even the cold wind on my face...as if this day were my last. Living with the intention to be really present to what I do and where I am. I believe that is how we reach the end of life without missing anything.
*If you would like to look at his pictures, you may do so by selecting this link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/26762898@N08/
About a week ago I saw a time travel movie. At the end the protagonist said that better than being able to go to other times that he had loved when he was there was living each day as if it were his last. Of course, there were then pictures of him being really present with his wife, children, work, and just walking down the street. That thought has spun me around several times over in the last week.
Last night a man who had read The Alchemy of Fear and contacted me shared some of his photographs.* They are extraordinary, and I shared them with some friends of mine who enjoy photography. We agree that he has a great eye and an amazing ability to capture light. But, as I have pondered his pictures over the last day, I am guessing what makes them so wonderful is his presence. As I looked at some of the scenes he captured, I wondered, might I have just walked by and not even noticed the pictures of life that he caught?
In preparation for the great Thanksgiving feed today, I walked. It was a beautiful day, and I tried to really live it, capturing sights, smells, and even the cold wind on my face...as if this day were my last. Living with the intention to be really present to what I do and where I am. I believe that is how we reach the end of life without missing anything.
*If you would like to look at his pictures, you may do so by selecting this link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/26762898@N08/
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Celebrating miracles
This evening at sunset began the eight-day celebration of Hanukkah, the Jewish Festival of Lights and the Feast of Dedication. The 2013 celebration marks the unusual coincidence of the first day of Hanukkah and the American Thanksgiving holiday. Very unusual. If the rather complicated calculations are accurate, it will be 75,000 years before this coincidence occurs again. Some say it will never occur again. It will surely never happen in our lifetimes.
Hanukkah commemorates a time after war when a small amount of oil--enough for one day--burned for eight. A real miracle. I've written about everyday miracles that we often miss. (Little Miracles, 11/4/2013.) But this is a "big deal" miracle. Every tradition has its stories of miracles. Most of us grew up hearing both secular and religious stories of miracles or almost-unbelievable happenings. They become just that--stories. Often they are discounted or dismissed instead of being treated as lessons in how the world can work.
In The Game Called Life Lizzie keeps saying things are "incredible", a word that means not believable. Her invisible guide Helen says that in the spiritual world they are believable; Lizzie, however, is just learning to understand how the spiritual world works. In that realm all things are possible, and really the spiritual realm is all there is.
In each and everyone of our lives we can think of people who were miraculously healed. Back in the 1950s when cancer treatments were very primitive, my father's cousin was sent to cancer surgery. As they often said in those days, "They opened her up, and when they saw how advanced it was, they just sewed her right up again. They sent her home to die, something that they predicted would happen in 4-6 weeks." She live another 30 years without further treatment.
I met a woman who had gone into the hospital for surgery for the removal of a tumor. She'd been to have an MRI two or three days earlier, which the surgeon would use to make sure he removed all of it during the operation. When he opened her up, the tumor was gone. Not a sign of it. In just a day or two the significant mass had totally disappeared. The surgeon was totally perplexed.
There are other kinds of miracles too. The rains that come in time to save the parched crops of a drought. The woman who musters strength to lift a car from her child. The man who missed the plane that crashed believes that the cop that stopped him, causing him to miss the plane, was a miracle.
On this day on which some people will celebrate Hanukkah, others will mark Thanksgiving, and some will commemorate both, perhaps we should take a moment to really celebrate miracles--and treat them as such. Remembrances of miracles bolster our faith and give us strength and determination when we are tested. And, they leave us keenly aware of the possibility that exists around us in every moment.
Hanukkah commemorates a time after war when a small amount of oil--enough for one day--burned for eight. A real miracle. I've written about everyday miracles that we often miss. (Little Miracles, 11/4/2013.) But this is a "big deal" miracle. Every tradition has its stories of miracles. Most of us grew up hearing both secular and religious stories of miracles or almost-unbelievable happenings. They become just that--stories. Often they are discounted or dismissed instead of being treated as lessons in how the world can work.
In The Game Called Life Lizzie keeps saying things are "incredible", a word that means not believable. Her invisible guide Helen says that in the spiritual world they are believable; Lizzie, however, is just learning to understand how the spiritual world works. In that realm all things are possible, and really the spiritual realm is all there is.
In each and everyone of our lives we can think of people who were miraculously healed. Back in the 1950s when cancer treatments were very primitive, my father's cousin was sent to cancer surgery. As they often said in those days, "They opened her up, and when they saw how advanced it was, they just sewed her right up again. They sent her home to die, something that they predicted would happen in 4-6 weeks." She live another 30 years without further treatment.
I met a woman who had gone into the hospital for surgery for the removal of a tumor. She'd been to have an MRI two or three days earlier, which the surgeon would use to make sure he removed all of it during the operation. When he opened her up, the tumor was gone. Not a sign of it. In just a day or two the significant mass had totally disappeared. The surgeon was totally perplexed.
There are other kinds of miracles too. The rains that come in time to save the parched crops of a drought. The woman who musters strength to lift a car from her child. The man who missed the plane that crashed believes that the cop that stopped him, causing him to miss the plane, was a miracle.
On this day on which some people will celebrate Hanukkah, others will mark Thanksgiving, and some will commemorate both, perhaps we should take a moment to really celebrate miracles--and treat them as such. Remembrances of miracles bolster our faith and give us strength and determination when we are tested. And, they leave us keenly aware of the possibility that exists around us in every moment.
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