At Arm's Length

I’m not really a horse person, but when I was at Ghost Ranch recently and spied a barn, I moved toward the horses in the pen. About ten feet away I stopped and waved. To my astonishment, two of them looked up and ran toward me, as if they knew me. Too timid to pet them, I took a photo, told them they were beautiful, and thanked them for being so friendly.

Later in the retreat,  we were asked to share something from our afternoon, and I described my experience, including my surprise that the horses were so eager to meet me.  And I wondered aloud if maybe I also assume people would rather not spend time with me, and so keep them at arm’s length through being too busy or too aloof.

Since that brief equine encounter, I’ve noticed how I buffer myself from rejection by not putting myself out there. For example, I didn’t offer any retreats where I work this year, even though I love creating and leading them, because I feared nobody would attend. Silly, I know, but powerful old beliefs that prevent me from fully experiencing the joy of relationships.

So here’s how I’m leaning into greater connection:

·         I’ve asked two friends to talk monthly about our creative endeavors, to set an intention for what’s next, and to support each other imagining it into existence.

·         I’ve invited my mother in law for a weekly supper so my sister in law gets a break and we spend more time with this sweet woman who won’t be around forever.

·         During a recent retreat I stayed in the common area and wrote in my journal rather than stay in my room, and another participant joined me and read . We sat in silent companionship.

·         I rearranged my schedule so my husband and I could enjoy an evening together after days apart.  This doesn’t sound like much, but in the past I would have hoped he would change his plans and then felt hurt when we didn’t get much time together.

Being in a new place on retreat--displacing myself from my routine—allowed me to see outmoded habits that actually prevent the very connections I so desire. It took horses to show me that there’s a world that welcomes me if I only signal by a wave that I’m interested and available.

Making Friends with Willingness

Making Friends with Willingness

I was recently on a four day silent Buddhist meditation retreat. The schedule was daunting—the day started with meditation at 5:30 am and ended at 9:30 pm and included sitting meditations, walking meditations, a talk by the teacher, silent meals and an hour off to do our chores. The first day, I found myself resisting everything. I was a beginner and overwhelmed with
the schedule. Before every activity a voice in my head said “I don’t want to do this.” So I listened and silently replied “you don’t have to.” Because I didn’t fight with it, I could watch the resistance fade, and beneath the resistance was a seed of willingness. That was what I wanted to nurture.

The next morning I decided to embrace the day and to
intentionally be willing. Same rigorous schedule but my willingness brought a sweetness to everything—the meditations, the slow walks outside in fresh air, the community forming in silence, and my own vulnerable self. From that place of allowing, new insights and healing arose. It was a remarkable experience.

Willingness is like a light but instead of an on/off switch, there's a dimmer switch with no end to its brightness. Some of us erroneously believe we aren’t willing if we experience any resistance at all, and so confuse willingness with eagerness. To move in a healthy direction we just need to be more willing than reluctant, to lean in the right direction rather than be paralyzed with inertia.

The Step 3 essay in 12 Steps & 12 Traditions calls willingness the key in
the door. “Once we have placed the key of willingness in the lock and have the door ever so slightly open, we find that we can always open it some more. Though self-will may slam it shut again, as it frequently does, it will always respond the moment we again pick up the key of willingness” (35). Nobody can pick the key up for us, however. That’s our main attitudinal work of daily life in recovery.

·         Willingness is an attitude, start your day
with it.

·         Willingness is a muscle-- the more you
notice where you’re already using it, the stronger it gets.

·         Willingness is a manifestation of grace, so
ask for it and you don’t have to know who or what you’re asking. The act of
asking is enough.

·         Willingness is a choice—make it for yourself because you can do hard things.

 

Whenever I feel stuck, I just need to inventory my level of willingness and pray for more.