Giving Thanks

In the United States tomorrow afternoon or evening begins what for many is a four-day Thanksgiving holiday.  The roots of this holiday, one of the biggest of the year in the States, go back to the earliest days of the settling of North America.  Marked by family traditions of food, the two things that are common to most menus are roast turkey and dressing.  Almost as much a part of standard Thanksgiving fare in recent years has been football on television and the onset of holiday shopping season on "Black Friday," the day when most merchants move into the "black"-- profit column -- for the year.

Other countries have holidays of gratitude, such as a similar one in October in Canada.  In some countries, such as Germany's Erntedankfest, the holiday is more driven by local and regional custom.  But for most, the holiday comes at the end of the harvest season, when the larders are full, and the bounty of the year is most apparent.

For at least a dozen years, maybe longer, amidst the food, football, and shopping, I have turned to a practice that reminds me of the reason for this holiday. My custom of Thanksgiving (or the day or two before) has been to have a gratitude meditation.  In that meditation, I go through every single day of the year in my mind's eye and feel gratitude.  A stroll through my calendar beforehand is helpful, but it is amazing how much comes to memory as I mentally stroll, day by day, through the whole year.

My gratitude meditation is something of a condensed version of the gratitude practice I wrote about earlier.  (Gratitude, 9/24/13)  Complaints don't exist: everything is a gift.  As I go through my days one by one, I feel gratitude.  A new client, an interesting piece of work, or perhaps a new friend...I feel in my body and my soul those experiences.  I literally let my heart run over with joy and gratitude. 

Now for most people there are three kinds of days: really good or pretty good ones, ones that we would prefer not to live through again, and nondescript days, which kind of blend together.  In the 365 days that make the year, most of us have a fair distribution of all three types. The intention of the gratitude meditation is to find something to be truly grateful for each and every day. 

Those days that I would prefer to not think about force me to remember that everything is a gift and to find the gift.  The first cold that I'd had in over 20 years knocked me flat for almost three weeks: my over-tired body got rested, and I read a book that had been on my nightstand for weeks.  The eye surgery that didn't go so well: I am so grateful that the other eye works and has learned to compensate.  You get the idea.

Now, what about those unremarkable days?  I think they are the very best.  When I meditate on those days, they make me realize how truly blessed I am.  A rainy day? I am so grateful I have an umbrella.  The garbage truck that awakened me early on my day off? The sun coming up over the trees in the woods behind my apartment was spectacular. 

On one of those ordinary days I received a LinkedIn message from a man in Pakistan.  He'd bought a used copy of The Alchemy of Fear a decade ago from a street vendor for a penny: he said it changed his life.  I was so delighted that I had tears in my eyes walking down the street, reading the message on my iPhone.

Maybe I just remember that I have a roof over my head, and I've had food in my belly every day for the year.  This year, I will definitely remember how grateful I am to be writing this blog, to have had time to work on the electronic version of The Game Called Life, and for the government shutdown that made those things possible.

The gratitude meditation has never failed to transform me.  One holiday when I was traveling, I did the gratitude meditation on an airplane, and I was certain I would levitate right out into the clouds.  This discipline puts everything in order, and I know what is really important.  As I write about it, I am so looking forward to this year's reflections. I have something else to be grateful for: I get off early tomorrow, which means I have a perfect hole in my holiday calendar to do my gratitude mediation.

For those in the United States: Happy Thanksgiving!

For others: Happy Giving Thanks!

Day-to-Day Courage

Spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss has said the most important lesson we have to learn is to be present.  If being present seems like a theme in this blog, that is only because so many spiritual paths lead to the same place: the need to be present.

Yesterday I wrote about the pity party I'd had when attempting to "be still!"  What a waste of energy!  It is probably early in the second half of my life, and anyone who watches any kind of game or match knows that the only thing that counts is the score at the end.  My pity party was looking backward and what hadn't gone the way I thought it should have or fretting about the future.  In the present all is well.

"March to the beat of a different drummer" is how Thoreau put it.  Scott Peck and Robert Frost described it as "The Road Less Traveled." The customized recipe for a life well lived is written on the back of each heart. (See "Partnering With Our Hearts, 10/5/2013) The recipe is revealed to me, one step at a time, after the stillness as I ask for guidance in the moment.  My recipe would not be the same as those of others. I need to do what I need to do right now without having a clue what the outcome will be or how it connects with anything else.  Success can only be judged at the end of the game.

The word courage derives from the word for "heart."  It takes a lot of courage to listen to the heart and follow it, without regard to the past or the future...just being in the here and now. That is why it is so important for us to be present in the present, acting with the day-to-day courage to live the life our souls came to live. 

At the end of my life--not at half-time or three-quarter time or even two minutes from the end of my game, I want to judge my success by what I gave and how I evolved my soul, not by anything else...no matter how much courage it takes. So far, there have been times when this journey has taken more courage than I could imagine ever having. But being present in each moment, I took leaps of faith that I would never have taken if I'd thought about it. It will continue to take courage. How can I not have the courage to live my well-lived life?

Actually Being Still and Knowing

This morning I did what I said yesterday I was going to do: "be still!" and "know!"  Well, actually, I spent a good bit of time attempting to "be still!" but actually very little time doing so.  I've often quoted Yoda, "There is no try.  There is do or no do."  I guess the truth  is that "being still!" was a "no do" for much of the two hours during which I dedicated myself to that activity.

As a bit of background, I went with a friend to the movies last night.  The movie my friend picked was "About Time," a time travel film, which ended with the message to fully live each day as if it were your very last.  As often as I've written variations on "being present," you might imagine that the movie's message resonated with me, and it did.  Except...

For whatever reason, instead of following the film's message, I spun off into a totally different place.  Instead of using the precious moments I had with my friend in the present, I went into quite a pity party about how I'd squandered my life (the past.)  It's not as if I took my inheritance and went off in prodigal fashion for a life of partying and waste.  Most of the time, the decisions I've made have been the best in the moment.  I probably haven't been as prayerful about all decisions as I might have, but I am still "in lesson" on that.

As I bounced like a Ping-Pong ball from the past to the future and back, I painfully looked at my life from judgment of where I thought I should be.  Everything that most of us have been told about life planning is that I should be at the pinnacle of my career with assets and relationships accumulated to carry me through the rest of my life. I really don't have much to show for what our society would describe as a life well lived.

I tell that story because history drove my "be still!" time this morning.  As I struggled to be still, my pity party continued.  I replayed decision points in my life which had led to this point in time. Then, I beat myself up about it.  This wasn't "be still! and know! that I am God." And that is what I heard when I was finally still.

"Be love! Experience joy! If God accepts my life with love, why can I not find that a place in my heart for me to love my life?"  Almost as an after-thought came a parting message: to remember what I've written about "forgiveness." 

I booted up my computer and looked at what I'd written about forgiveness (10/3/13.)  The gist of it was that how I "be Love" is through forgiveness, including forgiving myself. My job isn't judgment of my life: it is loving kindness and compassion.  That is what I know when I "be still! and know! that I am God."

Be still! Know!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Surrendering to Sleep

I fell asleep after the news this evening...again! When I awakened, I headed to my computer to write. I experienced something rare.  Nothing would come.  Sleep has me in its grips right now.

A few years ago I took a meditation class, and when I fell asleep while meditating, the teacher said, "If you fell asleep, you needed sleep."

I think we probably don't spend enough time listening to our bodies when they tell us to sleep, to eat, to drink water or to exercise.  Tonight I am listening.  Tomorrow I will be intentional about listening again.

Being in the Not-Knowing

Yesterday I wrote that "Not-Knowing as a Way of Life" had been being pushed into my face a lot recently.  Then, when I wrote about it, the floodgates burst open.  Mostly, nothing huge has been turned over, but little things that I thought might be true have been upended all day.  One larger idea has been set spinning, not enough to be totally upended, but certainly enough to cause me to examine it for depth and complexity.

So what is all of this about?  When I started this blog I said that I didn't intend to share answers but to examine questions with which I grappled on my spiritual journey.  That has never been truer than today. 

History tells me that when I write about something I am issuing to the Universe an invitation to send me lessons.  From the onset of writing Leading from the Heart, a book about courage, I was repeatedly tested for courage.  By the time it was published three and a half years later, my life had been taken apart, piece by piece, and put together again, once again piece by piece, very consciously and intentionally.  The putting together required me to look into the crevices and the foundations of my life and discover what was true...and then have the courage to act upon it. 

Leading from the Heart had not been released when I started working on The Alchemy of Fear, obviously a book about fear...and love...and once again, everything that I truly feared in life looked me in the eye and demanded that I choose the love/God option rather than fear.

At that point, I said I was going to stop writing. I'd spent five to six years learning about fear and courage.  Not a walk in the park. Well, of course, it is ridiculous to say I was going to stop writing.  I'd been writing since I could hold a pencil and have a permanent knot on the side of my middle finger to prove it.  I could no more stop writing than I could stop breathing.

So, I thought, I'll write about a subject that will be fun to learn about.  Choice Point is my as-yet-unpublished book on intention.  Now, one might think that intention would be a trip.  Not!  I was writing about the intentions of our soul to do what we came into the world to do.  Unless you are really dense, you've already figured this one out: I had to really listen...a lot...to what my soul wanted.  You will note that I said my "as-yet-unpublished book"--I am still in lesson on that one.

The Game Called Life was easy.  I love it.  It has been straight-forward and describes how I aspire to live.  Yet, even my beloved The Game Called Life has been playing games with me as I prepare it for electronic version.

Last night, I wrote about "not-knowing."  I really don't know (appropriate) how this one is going to turn out.  I do know that things I hoped to be certain 24 hours ago are much less so now.  I have no answers on this one.  I am sitting with the questions, which, in truth, seems appropriate for a topic like "not-knowing."  I am back in school, as if we aren't always.  :-)

Not-knowing as a Way of Life

Most of the time I sit quietly before writing this blog, and a topic gently floats into my awareness.  Then I write. Not so today.  Sometimes it feels to me like the Universe is beating me over the head with a topic that I need to revisit.  So it is with not-knowing as a way of life. I've been writing about it for at least two decades, and I am still a student of its wisdom.  Everywhere I've turned in the last couple of weeks, I have found myself talking about this topic. I can really tell it is serious when I start nervous eating when I think of it.  I am going to save myself a few thousand calories and explore it more.

There is a relationship between chaos, complexity, and spiritual growth.  I've observed it in individuals; I've observed it in groups.  The simplified, I'm-not-a-physicist explanation of chaos theory says that chaos is always implicit in order.  The easy way to explain this is that no matter how much we think we know how things are in our lives, every now and then, the Universe sends us a learning moment.  This happened to me when my husband came home from his run and told me he wanted a divorce.  He was showered, shaved, packed, and gone in 30 minutes!  Wow! I really didn't see that one coming.

I had a client once who came home to his "happy" home at the end of his normally long work day to find an empty house.  I am not saying no one was at home, although that was true.  I am saying it was empty.  Not a lick of furniture...or anything else. Four walls: that was it. He says he had no clue.  Someone else was awakened in the middle of the night with a call from the police, saying that his teenager had been arrested. One of the most fit 40-year-olds that I have known was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease. You get the idea: we are coasting along in la-la land, and something is hurled at us with no warning.  That creates a moment...or many moments of chaos.  If we are honest with ourselves in the moments that follow, we really are clueless about what is real.

In that period of exploration--for purposes of chaos theory, let's call it complexity--we know that the world is certainly not what we thought it was, but we are in the figurative "wilderness," trying to figure out what is true.

I have observed two ways in which people explore the "wilderness."  The unconscious way takes many forms, but in short, this approach uses whatever will numb the reality that our life isn't as we thought.  Drugs, alcohol, sex, food, starvation, purging, the three-gallons of ice cream break-up...you get the idea.  Inevitably, if we take that journey, weeks, months, or years down the line, knowing nothing more about what is real, we will have another wake-up call, telling us that our world isn't as we thought it was.  Normally, a succession of wake-up calls will continue until the Universe has our full attention.

For those of you who have read my book The Game Called Life, this is the space where Lizzie found herself when she fell across her steering wheel, sobbing for help, "There has to be a better way."

 Let's call that the second way, what I call "not-knowing." In this approach, we can engage the wilderness. I would like to distinguish "not-knowing" from "I don't know."  "I don't know" is passive.  It is the shrug of the shoulders of not caring. 

"Not-knowing" by contrast is active.  Instead of coasting through the wake-up call, we engage in self-exploration, attempting to know self and the world around us in a new way.  "Not-knowing" embraces this transition as an opportunity to grow in wholeness.  This is where Lizzie found herself after Helen answered her call for help.

If we kick around in "not-knowing" long enough, an Aha! moment inevitably burst into consciousness.  Suddenly one day when we least expect it (walking down the street, and it hits you,) you will see the world in a whole new way. Almost always this new world offers rich possibilities we had not considered before. 

For those who dislike uncertainty, I hate to relate that life is a sequence of wake-up calls: they cannot be avoided.  "Not-knowing as a way of life" is an attitude toward life that assumes the chaos as a given.  If chaos is always implicit in order, why not just accept it, embrace it, and flow with it.  Life becomes a series of opportunities to learn and grow into ever expanding possibilities.

I am not a surfer, but this is how I imagine it must be life to go for ever bigger waves.  What might once have been intimidating can become a real rush...without drugs, alcohol, sex, or any of those numbing agents...a natural high that leads higher and higher.  Stepping into our potential by growing regularly, not just when the Universe grabs us by the scruff of the neck and says, "Hey, dude! Listen to me."

During a webinar that I took today, the facilitator teaching about improving communication and listening said, "Just assume you don't understand."  She may have been talking about "not-knowing as a way of life."  Just assume you don't understand, and embrace the adventure of learning and growth.  What else is there that is really important?