Best Winter Ever

Here in Minnesota we’ve had an intense winter, and it’s not over. This afternoon the snow came down in a thick blanket. Recently, the Minneapolis newspaper published an article entitled “Worst. Winter. Ever.”  The next day, a clever letter to the editor pointed out that if one likes snow and cold, this year has been amazing.  Fifty nights below zero. Sixty-one inches of snow. “Best. Winter. Ever.” he wrote.

It all comes down to perspective.  I’ve never found it useful or interesting to complain about weather. I’m never served by resisting, complaining, or working myself into a lather about something I can do nothing about. I know I do have an effect on my world—the choices I make affect climate in the end. However, knowing I have an impact and influencing something immediately are not the same.  When I’m upset about weather or traffic, a plane’s delay or a person’s response, I’m actually cut off from the very thing that can have a positive impact.  Namely, my positive attitude.

If I’m in a funk, that’s not the time I can improve a situation.  The old sayings “do no harm” or “if you haven’t got anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” come to mind.  Once I’ve regained equilibrium and good cheer, I may in fact be able to help. But not before then.

Being powerless over something can lead to frustration or a renewed sense of humility. My choice. I know which choice feels better, and every time I choose to remain calm, ask for help, focus on the positive, see the humor, I strengthen that ability for a time when it will be essential that I remain calm so that I can be useful.

Perhaps those little irritations are precisely the workout my spiritual condition needs to get into shape for whatever is around the corner. And even if life goes smoothly forever after, reaching for the wonder of a snowy day just before April feels much better than the alternative.

The Land of Enough

 

Tired of having a full closet and nothing to wear? Recently, I tried an experiment of putting only 40 of my favorite items of clothing on hangers.  Turns out, I never tired of my wardrobe this whole, long winter because everyday I wore things I loved.  That’s the standard to use throughout my household, my relationships, and my activities.  When I’m engaged with people I love, doing what I love, in clothes I love, I have enough.

We experienced enough with my grandparents. There’s a photograph of me, seven years old, in a scarf, shawl, and big pocketbook on my grandparents’ couch.  My three year old sister, also in costume with a huge purse, sits beside me.  We are playing “Bus,” looking at the scenery, chatting, and exploring the treasures in our purses. This ingenious game was no doubt suggested by a grandparent in need of quiet. That couch wasn’t the only special prop. We played “Waitress” with their TV tray on wheels and “Bank” as we knelt before a straight chair with slats for the teller window. 

My grandparent’s house had one doll and one box of crayons and my sister and I got along better there than anywhere else. At our own house we had a play kitchen, dozens of baby dolls, Barbie dolls, a doll house and every game produced. Yet I have few memories of playing with my sister there. Mostly I remember squabbling.

At first glance this doesn’t make sense.  Wouldn’t we be more likely to fight over a single doll than the dozens at home?  But it didn’t work that way because siblings rival for attention, and at Grandma and Grandpa’s we had two loving adults’ full attention. Even when she continued her housework, meal preparation, and gardening tasks, Grandma included us so that we felt it was all play. 

Geneen Roth has observed that enough isn’t a quantity but a relationship to what you already have. Margaret Bullet-Jonas writes that you can never have enough of what you don’t truly want. When I take the time to discern what I want, it’s rarely a thing. Most often it’s a connection to an old friend, a hug, a chance to talk about a new inspiration, a walk in the sunshine, or time to read a good book.

Experiencing enough is a spiritual discipline because it’s never my spirit that wants more stuff. Though it seems scary sometimes to walk away from more, focusing on the riches already in hand is what nourishes me truly.

 

Only Connect

 

Yesterday I passed an SUV with a painted tiger on its back tire cover and the words “Please do not get close.”  Years ago a friend painted on my back tire cover a picture of the globe with the words “Only Connect.” When asked what does that mean? in every single parking lot,  I’d tell these strangers it was my favorite phrase from E.M. Forster’s novel Howard’s End. What do you think it means? Over the years I’ve come to believe that every problem can be solved, every difficulty eased, by greater connection.

These two phrases sum up my choice every day: Will I seek connection or distance? Draw closer to those I love or keep them at arm’s length? Be curious or oblivious about whoever crosses my path? When I review my day before sleep, I can usually tell which choice has been dominant by how I feel.  When I’ve connected I feel loved and loving. When I’ve signaled “please do not get close” I feel empty and alone.

I wish I always made the choice to connect, but I don’t.  Inattention, stress or fatigue keep people away.  Sometimes I tell my higher power not to get close by keeping busy, distracted, and noisy inside. Something that diminishes connection with others is my desire for perfection. Tonight, as I prepare to host dinner for a dozen, I intend to connect with each one by listening with delight rather than with one eye on the oven.   When I’m the hostess that’s a challenge. So I cancelled something I’d planned to do earlier and am giving myself the kind of day that will prepare my heart to be a welcoming world that says—Come closer. I’m so glad you’re here. 

Perhaps the loneliest days are those I keep myself at a distance by going through the motions of obligations or duties rather than pausing to listen to what will surprise and delight me.  This past week I went to the Walker Art Center on the spur of the moment.  That lovely art date made the March afternoon brighter, and I felt connected to the artist, the others viewing the exhibit, and had an interesting exchange with one of the guards. Saying yes to that inspiration, taking the time to act on intuition, actually strengthens my spirit, which in turn, invites me to come closer. Yes, that’s the direction I want to go.

 

 

Happiness

I‘ve been watching Pharrell Williams’ video “Happy” a lot lately (24hoursofhappy.com).  Today I danced along with it and felt that powerful combination of endorphins and music.  The simple words of this song “happiness is the truth” lift me because they are the truth.

I may spend more time thinking about happiness and joy than most people, but I did earn the nickname “Joy Ann” growing up and believe a happy life is completely possible regardless of circumstance.  When I’m content, I’m most useful to others, which is a value I hold. As I release one addiction after the next,  the path to happiness becomes clearer and easier to walk. I’m sure age has something to do with this as well.

Today I want to feel wonderful more than I want to look wonderful. That’s a big shift. When I pay attention to what feels wonderful, I let go of the clothes, shoes, knick knacks, food, activities and ideas that are less than marvelous.  Is that too high a standard? I don’t think so given the sheer amount of things I own, activities I can participate in, and thoughts that run pass my brain.  I only want those things in my life that help me feel wonderfully connected, joyous, and alive.

Everything I’ve ever wanted in my life I thought I’d feel better if I had it.  Much of it worked only in the short run. I’m more likely to reach for an old comfort when I haven’t made the time to be still and listen to my inner guidance, which always has a creative and perfect answer for the moment. Whenever I want to feel wonderful via a binge of sugar, a shopping trip, or some other old way of getting relief, I now get to learn what truly brings a sense of well-being.  This week, when I’ve wanted a change or help making a transition, I’ve gone outside and looked at the sky, called an old friend, organized a closet, browsed in a magazine, and walked in to lecture without a note.

I’m traveling into new realms of happiness and joy, and since I’ve long thought joy is the spirit’s most efficient fuel, I’ve been productive in other ways as well. Which is a nice bonus of feeling like “a room without a roof.”