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
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Monday, January 30, 2017
Finding My Voice
We each have a physical voice, which is the sound that comes out when we speak, and a spiritual voice, which is what we are in the world to say. In the Eastern chakra system, the spiritual voice is located in the fifth chakra--an energy center in the throat. In Western traditions it is associated with the Will and calling back the spirit. On the Jewish Tree of Life, it is associated with Judgement and Mercy.
As I usually do, last night I finished writing my blogpost and then I meditated. I concluded yesterday's post with saying, "I refuse for my conscience to stop working. I refuse to grow numb. I know that there is a connection between this behavior and me, and I will do what I can stop it..." I felt strong and "willful" as I wrote. It was almost as if I had been wagging my finger at myself, saying "Enough of this nonsense; you know what you need to do." I ended with a burst of energy.
I begin my evening meditation each evening by praying the Christian "Lord's Prayer" in Aramaic, the language that Jesus spoke. It is beautiful to my ear. I have studied it at length, and the English words that we generally associate with that prayer don't carry either the complexity or meaning that the Aramaic does. So, I say it in Aramaic. I've said it in Aramaic almost every day for close to 20 years...maybe longer.
Over the last few weeks I've noticed that my voice is gravelly when I say the prayer out loud. I've stopped several times on occasion and cleared my throat, but it continued to be weak and hoarse. Last night was a different story. The moment I started I was almost shocked by the strength and clarity of my voice. I wanted to look around and see if someone else was in the room. No. Just me. Strong, willful, and confident me, calling back my spirit.
This morning I looked back over the notes from my early January retreat at those I'd made from Caroline Myss's book Anatomy of the Spirit, in which she writes about both the chakras and the parallel meanings in Western religions. For the Fifth Chakra, my notes say "Every choice we make, every thought and feeling we have is an act of power that has consequences." It seemed to me that what I wrote last night was a kind of line in the sand about what I would and would not do or allow in the world around me. That choice was an act of power indeed.
I chatted this morning with the woman friend with whom I'd protested yesterday, and I shared how overwhelmed I'd felt. She gave me a wonderful metaphor. She said she thought of herself as just one Lego in a much bigger Lego structure: together we are building something much bigger. Ah, yes, together we are something much greater.
I've been very independent and strong in my life. In some ways that has served me well. I've been able to feed and house myself and plan for my future. I take my spiritual growth, my soul's intentions and commitments, and my integrity very seriously.
Yet I must also own that I put a lot on myself. My friend gave me the lens of interdependence and what we can do together. That is not something I've been good at. Being part of something bigger, much bigger. Today I did a few little things, and I didn't worry that they were little things. I was just doing my part; even though I might have put the bar higher, I believe that is all I am asked to do.
As I think back over the spiritual lessons of the last few days, and my commitment to make the next part of my spiritual journey be about the more pleasant lessons, I am certain that learning the lesson on interdependence will be a big one for me.
As I usually do, last night I finished writing my blogpost and then I meditated. I concluded yesterday's post with saying, "I refuse for my conscience to stop working. I refuse to grow numb. I know that there is a connection between this behavior and me, and I will do what I can stop it..." I felt strong and "willful" as I wrote. It was almost as if I had been wagging my finger at myself, saying "Enough of this nonsense; you know what you need to do." I ended with a burst of energy.
I begin my evening meditation each evening by praying the Christian "Lord's Prayer" in Aramaic, the language that Jesus spoke. It is beautiful to my ear. I have studied it at length, and the English words that we generally associate with that prayer don't carry either the complexity or meaning that the Aramaic does. So, I say it in Aramaic. I've said it in Aramaic almost every day for close to 20 years...maybe longer.
Over the last few weeks I've noticed that my voice is gravelly when I say the prayer out loud. I've stopped several times on occasion and cleared my throat, but it continued to be weak and hoarse. Last night was a different story. The moment I started I was almost shocked by the strength and clarity of my voice. I wanted to look around and see if someone else was in the room. No. Just me. Strong, willful, and confident me, calling back my spirit.
This morning I looked back over the notes from my early January retreat at those I'd made from Caroline Myss's book Anatomy of the Spirit, in which she writes about both the chakras and the parallel meanings in Western religions. For the Fifth Chakra, my notes say "Every choice we make, every thought and feeling we have is an act of power that has consequences." It seemed to me that what I wrote last night was a kind of line in the sand about what I would and would not do or allow in the world around me. That choice was an act of power indeed.
I chatted this morning with the woman friend with whom I'd protested yesterday, and I shared how overwhelmed I'd felt. She gave me a wonderful metaphor. She said she thought of herself as just one Lego in a much bigger Lego structure: together we are building something much bigger. Ah, yes, together we are something much greater.
I've been very independent and strong in my life. In some ways that has served me well. I've been able to feed and house myself and plan for my future. I take my spiritual growth, my soul's intentions and commitments, and my integrity very seriously.
Yet I must also own that I put a lot on myself. My friend gave me the lens of interdependence and what we can do together. That is not something I've been good at. Being part of something bigger, much bigger. Today I did a few little things, and I didn't worry that they were little things. I was just doing my part; even though I might have put the bar higher, I believe that is all I am asked to do.
As I think back over the spiritual lessons of the last few days, and my commitment to make the next part of my spiritual journey be about the more pleasant lessons, I am certain that learning the lesson on interdependence will be a big one for me.
Sunday, January 29, 2017
How to Know When God is Speaking to Me
Earlier this month, I wrote about occasions when we may be unclear about whether our guidance is real.* In the middle of a week of meditation, I had been inspired to take off on a trip, and I didn't know if that was guidance or a distraction from spiritual work in front of me at home. A few days later that was resolved. Every now and again, there are moments when I struggle with knowing what is real.
There are times, however, when I am certain my guidance is real beyond a shadow of a doubt. Today was one of those days. In yesterday's post, I wrote about being conflicted about what I should do this afternoon after church. I was torn between something I felt would be growthful and had been planned previously and something that had just arisen that was clearly out of my comfort zone. In keeping with my intention to be really present and to be conscious of my decisions, I didn't even try to decide before I left for church, but did take things--food and clothes--that kept my options open.
The event about which I had been conflicted was a protest on behalf of refugees being held at airports or being turned back after years of vetting. One story of a family, where one of the parents had worked for our government in Iraq and was in danger, had been in the vetting queue for 14 years. They were finally cleared to come, and yesterday they were in flight to the US when they were taken off the plane at a stop in Cairo and sent back to Baghdad.
I wrote last week about my intense compassion for the refugee crisis and how, now that I am in this exploration period, opportunities to connect with people supporting those individuals had started falling in my lap.+ I felt like the news stories over the last 36 hours, sharing the plight of these individuals, some of whom were already permanent residents of the US and were living in our country but had been abroad, were just one more opportunity to learn about this international crisis.
Then, in her message today, our assistant rector spoke about conviction. She started her remarks by talking about courtrooms, where a conviction is supposed to reflect certainty about the defendant's guilt. Then she broadened to explore how the convictions that we express in our words should be reflected as certainty as our actions.
All that brings me to my dilemma about what I would do after church. The event which arose last night was a protest at the White House on behalf of those refugees being detained, turned back, or even those who may never get the opportunity to come to this country--a country from before its founding has been known to open its arms to those in need. I have never participated in a protest before. Not my style. So definitely out of my comfort zone.
And, it was cold. The temperature was cold but between the wind and the dampness in the air, the wind-chill factor was another eight degrees colder. I don't deal well with being cold either. Definitely out of my physical comfort zone as well.
Yet as I walked out of church, it was clear to me where I was to spend my afternoon. I was both in the present and being very conscious of my decision-making. If my convictions about the refugee crisis were real, the my actions should reflect them. Intentions are nothing if we don't act upon them. So, I layered up, ate a snack I had brought with me, and joined a small handful of others from my congregation and the crowd assembling nearby.
I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve, and for some reason, this issue has them ever closer to the skin. I find that every time I speak with someone about the issue my voice will crack at some point, and often a tear will come to my eye--just as happened 18 months ago when I saw the photograph of the dead child on the beach. The same thing happened repeatedly during the demonstration today. I would join in a chant, such as "No hate! No fear! Refugees are welcome here." I could not get the words out of my mouth without my voice cracking and tears coming to my eyes. Over and over again.
Some of the signs moved me to tears. A number being carried by people in their 60s and 70s which said, "I am the child of a refugee." I can imagine, given their ages, that they might be children of Holocaust survivors. Some were citations of scriptures from various holy books. There were moving photographs, such as the ones of Anne Frank juxtapositioned with one of a small Syrian girl, with the words "This generation's Anne Frank is a girl from Syria." I was moved by a drawing woman in a hijab, made of the American flag. With each of these, I would choke up. There was absolutely no doubt that I was fully present. My convictions were clearly being cemented.
Whether God want me to take off on a trip across the country in January may not be clear to me, but what I am absolutely certain about is that today God was speaking to me and asking me what I was going to do with my convictions.
This afternoon and evening I have been recalling the Hannah Arendt's writing about Nazi Germany, which I quoted in Choice Point:
"...that evil empire could only proceed if evil became banal, or common. For something obviously wrong to proceed, multiple consciences must stop working. Entire communities must grow numb and choose not to see any connection between abusive behavior and oneself....”
I really don't know the answer to what I can do about my convictions, but I refuse for my conscience to stop working. I refuse to grow numb. I know that there is a connection between this behavior and me, and I will do what I can stop it, whatever that is. This evening I did sign up for a webinar and a city-wide meeting about the crisis. When God speaks to me this clearly, I am certain that the next step will be clear to me.
* "How Do I Know?" (1/8/17)
+ "Ladybugs" (1/17/17)
There are times, however, when I am certain my guidance is real beyond a shadow of a doubt. Today was one of those days. In yesterday's post, I wrote about being conflicted about what I should do this afternoon after church. I was torn between something I felt would be growthful and had been planned previously and something that had just arisen that was clearly out of my comfort zone. In keeping with my intention to be really present and to be conscious of my decisions, I didn't even try to decide before I left for church, but did take things--food and clothes--that kept my options open.
The event about which I had been conflicted was a protest on behalf of refugees being held at airports or being turned back after years of vetting. One story of a family, where one of the parents had worked for our government in Iraq and was in danger, had been in the vetting queue for 14 years. They were finally cleared to come, and yesterday they were in flight to the US when they were taken off the plane at a stop in Cairo and sent back to Baghdad.
I wrote last week about my intense compassion for the refugee crisis and how, now that I am in this exploration period, opportunities to connect with people supporting those individuals had started falling in my lap.+ I felt like the news stories over the last 36 hours, sharing the plight of these individuals, some of whom were already permanent residents of the US and were living in our country but had been abroad, were just one more opportunity to learn about this international crisis.
Then, in her message today, our assistant rector spoke about conviction. She started her remarks by talking about courtrooms, where a conviction is supposed to reflect certainty about the defendant's guilt. Then she broadened to explore how the convictions that we express in our words should be reflected as certainty as our actions.
All that brings me to my dilemma about what I would do after church. The event which arose last night was a protest at the White House on behalf of those refugees being detained, turned back, or even those who may never get the opportunity to come to this country--a country from before its founding has been known to open its arms to those in need. I have never participated in a protest before. Not my style. So definitely out of my comfort zone.
And, it was cold. The temperature was cold but between the wind and the dampness in the air, the wind-chill factor was another eight degrees colder. I don't deal well with being cold either. Definitely out of my physical comfort zone as well.
Yet as I walked out of church, it was clear to me where I was to spend my afternoon. I was both in the present and being very conscious of my decision-making. If my convictions about the refugee crisis were real, the my actions should reflect them. Intentions are nothing if we don't act upon them. So, I layered up, ate a snack I had brought with me, and joined a small handful of others from my congregation and the crowd assembling nearby.
I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve, and for some reason, this issue has them ever closer to the skin. I find that every time I speak with someone about the issue my voice will crack at some point, and often a tear will come to my eye--just as happened 18 months ago when I saw the photograph of the dead child on the beach. The same thing happened repeatedly during the demonstration today. I would join in a chant, such as "No hate! No fear! Refugees are welcome here." I could not get the words out of my mouth without my voice cracking and tears coming to my eyes. Over and over again.
Some of the signs moved me to tears. A number being carried by people in their 60s and 70s which said, "I am the child of a refugee." I can imagine, given their ages, that they might be children of Holocaust survivors. Some were citations of scriptures from various holy books. There were moving photographs, such as the ones of Anne Frank juxtapositioned with one of a small Syrian girl, with the words "This generation's Anne Frank is a girl from Syria." I was moved by a drawing woman in a hijab, made of the American flag. With each of these, I would choke up. There was absolutely no doubt that I was fully present. My convictions were clearly being cemented.
Whether God want me to take off on a trip across the country in January may not be clear to me, but what I am absolutely certain about is that today God was speaking to me and asking me what I was going to do with my convictions.
This afternoon and evening I have been recalling the Hannah Arendt's writing about Nazi Germany, which I quoted in Choice Point:
"...that evil empire could only proceed if evil became banal, or common. For something obviously wrong to proceed, multiple consciences must stop working. Entire communities must grow numb and choose not to see any connection between abusive behavior and oneself....”
I really don't know the answer to what I can do about my convictions, but I refuse for my conscience to stop working. I refuse to grow numb. I know that there is a connection between this behavior and me, and I will do what I can stop it, whatever that is. This evening I did sign up for a webinar and a city-wide meeting about the crisis. When God speaks to me this clearly, I am certain that the next step will be clear to me.
* "How Do I Know?" (1/8/17)
+ "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.
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
This Could Be Fun
Yesterday afternoon I conducted two research projects for my health coaching class. Either of them could have been completed in under an hour, but I luxuriated over them for six or seven. I love to learn! I just kept jumping from website to website, learning more and more about each of the topics, including one about the heart health of the District of Columbia. It was something I would never have thought of. "Golly, gee, I think I'll spend an afternoon that I almost never have free researching the heart health of my city," is something that has never crossed my mind. AND, it was fascinating.
When I finally looked up, a bit bleary-eyed and starved, I sank back into my chair and laughed out loud. This was so much fun. Then it occurred to me that learning has been pretty much under the gun for most of my life. With so much to complete before the end of the term, I always felt like I was behind from the first day of class in college and graduate school. When I have taken classes while I was working, the being-behind-as-I-started feeling was notched up a bit, compounded by the hope that I might have five minutes for myself before the class ended.
For the first time, I can really enjoy learning as a quest where the knowledge is a reward in itself. Suddenly, my mind shifted from what I had to do before the class met at noon on Wednesday to what I would like to add to the studies. I identified books on the shelf of books purchased but not yet read which I wanted to get into. I also learned that Dr. Andrew Weil has a new healthy eating cookbook, and my experience with his recipes in the past is that they are great. That reminded me that when I started this program, I wanted to have delicious healthy food be an objective. But, I have hardly cooked anything that wasn't required from this class, and, for a foodie, I've found the recipes depressing.
If I haven't finished this research by the end of the class, so what? I can take all the time I want on this part of my exploration.
In the roughly 28 hours since my discover that I could have fun learning, more and more things have occurred to me that I could have allow to be fun. I used to relish getting home to run and really enjoyed lifting weights three times a week. In the pressure cooker that has been my life, the things I've loved have been sandwiched into progressively smaller morsels of time. I've felt as if checking something I chose off my list to prove that I would not give up thing I loved was more important than savoring the time I've spent doing them.
I've written a lot in this blog about being present to our lives, and it is a struggle for me. I think I am turning a corner...far from there, but I always like to say that awareness is 90 percent of the battle. Each time I identify an impediment to being present, I can focus my intention on what I'd like my life to be life. I can take as much...or as little...time as I want, but if I am going to do something, I am going to throw myself in it completely.
Today I needed to walk to the bank for cash. This afternoon was lovely in Washington--sunny, bluebird skies, and 60 degrees. I am a brisk walker, but I really enjoyed the sun on my cheeks and my mobility. I noticed that a foot, which has been bothering me, was better. I decided to continue on to the Whole Foods to pick up a few things that I needed. I enjoyed stopping and pondering some personal philosophy on a lawn sign. I just enjoyed the beautiful city in which I live. I was shocked when I got to the store to learn that I'd only walked 10 minutes from the bank, but I'd allowed myself to drop in a time warp where time didn't exist. I enjoyed myself.
I really want to be of service, but I don't need to make that be hard labor. In the end, enjoying my life and my service is the point. As has been said, this isn't a dress rehearsal, so why not have fun with it?
When I finally looked up, a bit bleary-eyed and starved, I sank back into my chair and laughed out loud. This was so much fun. Then it occurred to me that learning has been pretty much under the gun for most of my life. With so much to complete before the end of the term, I always felt like I was behind from the first day of class in college and graduate school. When I have taken classes while I was working, the being-behind-as-I-started feeling was notched up a bit, compounded by the hope that I might have five minutes for myself before the class ended.
For the first time, I can really enjoy learning as a quest where the knowledge is a reward in itself. Suddenly, my mind shifted from what I had to do before the class met at noon on Wednesday to what I would like to add to the studies. I identified books on the shelf of books purchased but not yet read which I wanted to get into. I also learned that Dr. Andrew Weil has a new healthy eating cookbook, and my experience with his recipes in the past is that they are great. That reminded me that when I started this program, I wanted to have delicious healthy food be an objective. But, I have hardly cooked anything that wasn't required from this class, and, for a foodie, I've found the recipes depressing.
If I haven't finished this research by the end of the class, so what? I can take all the time I want on this part of my exploration.
In the roughly 28 hours since my discover that I could have fun learning, more and more things have occurred to me that I could have allow to be fun. I used to relish getting home to run and really enjoyed lifting weights three times a week. In the pressure cooker that has been my life, the things I've loved have been sandwiched into progressively smaller morsels of time. I've felt as if checking something I chose off my list to prove that I would not give up thing I loved was more important than savoring the time I've spent doing them.
I've written a lot in this blog about being present to our lives, and it is a struggle for me. I think I am turning a corner...far from there, but I always like to say that awareness is 90 percent of the battle. Each time I identify an impediment to being present, I can focus my intention on what I'd like my life to be life. I can take as much...or as little...time as I want, but if I am going to do something, I am going to throw myself in it completely.
Today I needed to walk to the bank for cash. This afternoon was lovely in Washington--sunny, bluebird skies, and 60 degrees. I am a brisk walker, but I really enjoyed the sun on my cheeks and my mobility. I noticed that a foot, which has been bothering me, was better. I decided to continue on to the Whole Foods to pick up a few things that I needed. I enjoyed stopping and pondering some personal philosophy on a lawn sign. I just enjoyed the beautiful city in which I live. I was shocked when I got to the store to learn that I'd only walked 10 minutes from the bank, but I'd allowed myself to drop in a time warp where time didn't exist. I enjoyed myself.
I really want to be of service, but I don't need to make that be hard labor. In the end, enjoying my life and my service is the point. As has been said, this isn't a dress rehearsal, so why not have fun with it?
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