Taking in the Good

Perhaps because I’ve been on peaceful retreat for a week, I was able to observe the beginnings of an inner disturbance and respond differently rather than only notice agitation once it’s moving too fast to stop.

This morning I observed my mind take me down an unhappy path, and as I noticed anxiety and irritation rev up into a plan to get even or take revenge, I decided to tune into wise mind instead.  She told me, “The reason you feel bad is because what you’re imagining isn’t true. Whenever you make up a story about someone you love and feel bad, it’s an imaginary tale. Stand in the truth and you’ll be calm immediately.”

I decided to change the story. I recognized the goodness of the other person, his lack of malice and his faithfulness, and I took a deep breath. The moment I unplugged from the hurtful, untrue narrative, I was able to see his point of view and to wish him an enjoyable event. Instead of asking him to change, I changed my perspective, and went on with my day at peace.

What We Focus On Expands

If I can’t accept a circumstance or quality in someone close to me (or far away, for that matter), then I need to look for some quality within them I can accept, or focus on a different topic altogether. In looking for something to appreciate or even celebrate, I follow the gaze of loving kindness that lives at our core, and in tuning into that, I access solutions I couldn’t envision when I was so worked up about what is wrong.

There are always multiple things going on at any given moment. Where is my attention? I know there’s plenty wrong in the world --injustices are happening to people everyday, the land is being abused, profit is put before people, and too many of us are intent on accumulating more, swapping old things for trendier, prettier things, when much of the planet doesn’t have basic needs met. I know this.

And I am grateful to those who report, record, and analyze these developments and ferret out the causes. I stay informed, share information, and contribute to organizations working for change.  But I cannot keep my attention solely focused on these problems and be useful to others.  That doesn’t work.

Heeding Inner Guidance

“Perhaps this is how you know you’re doing the thing you’re intended to: No matter how slow or slight your progress, you never feel that it’s a waste of time.” This line from Curtis Sittenfeld’s novel The Man of My Dreams reassures me. The work I feel called to do happens with individuals, one at a time or in small groups.  I help people make choices to contribute rather than to critique, to create rather than to destroy, and to tune into their desire to live fully and inhabit the edges of their own goodness.  It’s the kind of vocation that rarely has a visible or immediate outcome. I keep at it because every conversation matters to me, even casual exchanges in the hallway.

I also work for a spirituality center that has as its vision, “As each person is awakened to the sacred in all life, the world is transformed.” I was there when we created this vision and I believe it more than ever.

Imagine a world where every person sees what is precious in everyone else, including animals, plants, work and creative efforts. How might that transform our interactions, our communities, and our environment? Because I can only change myself, I’m putting my energy, one person at a time, into seeing the preciousness right in front of me, because no effort in that direction is ever wasted.

What’s Blooming in You? Thoughts on My Next Decade

It’s finally spring in Minneapolis and I’ve been thinking about what is blossoming in me right now. And what might I need to let go to make room for it?

On Turning Sixty

What’s being born in me is absolute delight at turning sixty in two months. I don’t often celebrate birthdays, but I’m giddy thinking about how I want to acknowledge this one. I am ready to claim the wisdom, confidence, and acceptance of others that might come with entering the age of the crone.  Although I haven’t completely identified what, I know that something needs to go, wither, perhaps even to die in me to more fully embrace this new decade. I know the zip code of the attitude but not yet the house number, let alone its fingerprint.

During my fifties, I’ve let go of needing to climb a career ladder and focused on working directly with people.  Because the corporate world honors those who manage employees more than those who work with clients, this has meant fewer titles, less pay, and way more daily satisfaction. Give me a 1:1 conversation with a 19 year old who doesn’t believe in God over a meeting about marketing any day.

Saying Goodbye to the Inner Critic

To more joyfully inhabit this next life chapter, I’ll need to release incessant self-judgment, the running commentary that tells me how put-together, thin (or not) I look, how smart, wise, or silly I sound. This inner critic takes the pulse of everyone’s assessment of me and measures my worth by numbers: how many read, like, or attend whatever I offer? It doesn’t help that in a recent yearly review when I asked how to move from good to excellent I was told that while the staff realize how valuable I am, all the clients need to recognize my worth as well in order to nail it.

In that case, excellence means winning over the 400+ people who are in the building each week at various stages of wanting what I teach. That may be an admirable goal, but it’s dangerous for a people-pleaser. Rather than work for universal acclaim, I think I’ll let go of wanting the excellent rating and concentrate on doing excellent work.

The Deepest Acceptance

Contentment gets born in the process of letting go of such scorekeeping, a practice of accepting who I am that goes beyond what I can re-arrange, such as my current wardrobe, body size, hair style, etc. Becoming at home with the way I write about what interests me, how I think about something and what I’m drawn to read, share and invite others to explore requires deeper acceptance. I can’t or won’t be like X (fill in the name of any famous author, 10-15 years younger, whose memoir is a best-seller.) And I have plenty to say.

When I let go of that comparison, savor who I am, and get my ideas out there because I love sharing rather than need a certain reaction, then what is now a young plant just blossoming will mature and bear fruit that can nourish me into old age.

Who Feels Blue in the Spring??

I’ve recently been told that my affect is flat and my energy is grey. Since this feedback came from two women I love and trust, I’m taking it seriously.  Other indications that something is off include a difficult situation with someone I love, more challenges at work, and snafus with money that are unusual for me.

These are all signals that I need to surrender--to what I'm not sure--but since I’m leading a retreat on “letting go absolutely” in three weeks, I’m curious about how to be with this discomfort without running to shopping and sugar for a quick escape.

I don’t have to know

Although I’m not sure what kind of help I need, I do know that it’s time to ask--others, the universe, and my own inner guidance. I don’t have to know what form the help will take, or how it will work, or even why I’m in this present situation.  Just the act of asking  for help releases the problem and opens me to a solution.

Answers are everywhere

So this morning I sat by a wise man I don’t know well at a meeting and asked him how he cultivates joy.  He looked at me for a beat and then answered that he does it in little ways all day long—having meaningful conversations, spending time outside, being present to changes without needing to control them.

In order to feel more connected to others, I spoke at this meeting without knowing exactly what I would say or if it would be helpful or wise.  Yesterday I started therapy with a counselor I liked who seemed safe. Today I’m inviting Spirit to show me what to read, who to hang out with, and how to be.   Images of golfing and gardening came as ways to play and to create, states I'd like to experience more.

Befriending Silence

I’m pretty sure silence is the way through this flat, grey period: sit still, plan nothing, stop consuming something every waking minute, be observant and curious. Taking a baby step in the direction of what brings my heart peace rather than finding the best bargain or eating copious amounts of sugar is the truest route to a sweet life.

Permission to Grieve

My 92 year old mother in law died last week, with no pain, in a homey hospice, surrounded by her six children singing, praying and professing their love. Unless you believe no one should ever die, this was a good death, the kind everyone deserves but too few experience. The setting allowed those of us left behind time and space to remember, celebrate, and mourn together. If sacred passages were the cultural norm, perhaps we’d have less fear of dying, more reverence for birth, and communal rituals to facilitate key stages in life.

No Time to Grieve

My own father died suddenly when I was sixteen and my sister was twelve. My mother, for unknown reasons, chose to proceed as if all were normal. That very night she sent Lori out Christmas caroling with the Spanish club. The next day I went to work, where they were surprised to see me and had called a substitute. It didn’t occur to me to go home, so I was an extra worker on the floor.  We attended the usual church services Christmas Eve (he died December 23) where I tried valiantly not to cry, as if that would have been a breach of etiquette rather than a genuine expression of my irrevocably changed reality. 

With no space or time to grieve, I buried that raw emotion only to have it emerge as anger, self-pity, or fear at odd times over the next decades.  With no permission to grieve, I learned to ignore my feelings and act as if something essential didn’t matter, living on a surface of pleasing others rather than acting from my heart’s desires.

So this week, I did it differently, even though this death was neither surprising nor tragic. I used bereavement leave to be available to the family, host meals, organize her few possessions, and take care of myself.  I feel lucky to work at a nonprofit that acknowledges these fundamental human needs with some paid time off. Isn’t this what every worker deserves?

A Life of Faith

Jill Rice was the least addicted, least materialistic, and least sentimental person I know. Her family and her faith were the important anchors in her life.  Her reading consisted of novels and materials published by various Catholic organizations. Her church attendance continued right up to the end, and she prayed immediately when told sad news.

Allowing Love 

Her faith was the source of her sweet love for others. Nurses, waitresses, her hairdresser, and her grandchildren all fell in love with her because she lit up whenever she saw any of us.  Though kissing hands was all that was left of her expressiveness towards the end, she always chose loving over complaining. She really was an instrument of peace.

Thy Will, Not Mine, Be Done

At her funeral, we entered singing Here I Am, the hymn reflecting Samuel’s willingness to do whatever God asks.  We ended with Breathe on Me O Breath of God, singing “that I may love the things you love, and do the things you do/ My will to yours incline, until this selfish part of me glows with your fire divine.”  I cried during both these songs, reminded that this is all I’ve ever wanted—to act from the best in me.

Jill Rice showed me how to love everyone for who they are, to delight in beauty and to simplify with ease. Most of the time I’m aware of falling short of this ideal, but my desire to be aligned with love is strong. Some days it even trumps the desire to protect myself by keeping people away through isolation or criticism.

 

Today, rather than try to eliminate my negative qualities, I’ll follow this sweet woman’s example--plug into the Great Love that moves through this world and offer it to everyone who crosses my path, like Jilly did.

On Dying without Children

My 92-year-old mother-in-law is in hospice, a day or two from death according to the nurse.  Her six adult children have gathered, and because the facility is a beautiful home with gentle, attentive staff, they are free to read to her, sing hymns with the music therapist, and stroke her head and hands.

Jill Rice had eight children in twelve years, each one confident, unique and adored.  While she sleeps and her breathing changes, while they administer pain meds every two hours, the siblings plan the funeral, write the obituary, and share memories with various cousins, grandchildren, and in-laws who visit.  Someone is always with her, and when I left the other day, the room had filled with eight of us.

She is having a good death. And her dying brings up memories and questions: I’ve lost both parents, one quickly and one in hospice care. I have regrets about how I showed up around both deaths.

I don’t have children--who will attend my death? Years ago I was a volunteer with hospice, and during the extensive training a group of four women spoke to us.  They had worked with a patient who didn’t have family, tag teaming for weeks so she was never alone.   Would strangers do that for me?  

In the end, I suppose it won’t matter because I’ll be dying.  Although I hope to die quickly and gently in my sleep after a day spent golfing, writing, and visiting with friends, I’m not sure we get to precisely plan our exit. I just hope we have some say in the when and how and that my ending will be surprising and fast, for everyone’s sake. In the meantime, I marvel at the love of the Rices for this beautiful spirit who was their mom.

Loneliness or Solitude?

“Don’t surrender your loneliness too quickly.  Let it cut more deep . .  . /Something missing in my heart tonight/has made my eyes so soft, my voice so tender/my need of God absolutely clear.” Hafiz

How do you know when you’re lonely? How do you soothe yourself when you feel lonely? How might loneliness, which had a role in my addiction and now fuels numerous ways of distracting and numbing myself, actually be a tool for developing spiritual connections? 

Loneliness is like those little plastic bags that protect the newspaper, helpful for the moment but useless for any other purpose.  Loneliness signals I need more connection to myself, others, or Source. Often I don’t welcome that feeling, because I interpret it as meaning that I’m a loser nobody wants to spend time with. Once I start down that path, it’s not long before I question how I’m spending my day and if my life even matters. No wonder I do about anything to avoid feeling lonesome. 

Lonely in a Crowd

But I can also be isolated surrounded by people when the conversation is shallow and I’m not hearing or sharing anything real.  Time with someone I want to be close to but feeling unseen may be the loneliest.

Joyful Solitude

On the other hand, when I’m spiritually connected being alone can be joyful. In solitude, I’m curious, eager to explore, open to spontaneous ideas and welcoming of feelings, memories, connections, and even emptiness. I’m never bored in solitude, but when I’m lonely, I'm desperate to entertain myself.

I can move from solitude to loneliness in an instant of self-pity or comparison. It usually takes longer to move from loneliness to enjoying my own company.  I do know that eating, shopping, smoking, drinking, mindlessly consuming social media or other forms of entertainment only keeps me isolated and postpones the move required for me to be happy and helpful to others.

Oh, that I could notice the edge of loneliness and welcome it into my heart as an invitation to intimacy with spirit, my whole self, and others. Becoming familiar with the beginnings of loneliness, being curious about that feeling and aware of what is missing can be an important tool for recovery.

To Explore

What do you typically do when you are at loose ends or bored, overwhelmed or not sure what to do next?

How do you feel when you’re lonely? When or where are you most often lonely?

Who in your life do you feel least lonely around?

What role does a higher power have in feeling lonely or enjoying solitude?

With a partner, share two moments from your life:

1) When you were alone and loved it. What were you doing? What connection did you have to nature, a higher power, or the best in you?

2) When you felt most alone in the world. What did you do to not feel so alone? Was it effective? What’s the healthiest thing you could have done? What prevented you from doing that? How is that habit, belief, or tendency to isolate still present in your life today?

Is Your Life Big Enough?

Everyone has some creative endeavor to immerse in, whether it’s creating a family, a home, a career, art, or community. If we don’t follow our heart’s desire, then we may turn that energy into perfecting things around us, redecorating, revising relationships, or even destroying things in order to rebuild them. In my life, I’ve lost the same 30 pounds multiple times, then gained them to make that my project, yet again.

If you don’t have a bigger project, your health becomes a project.  I’ve been saying no to flour and sugar without saying yes to what I truly want, which is to write new ideas, revise old essays, and publish it all so actual people read my work.When I make my top priorities losing weight, getting the perfect wardrobe, keeping care of an already fine home, or fretting about teaching something that will save or at least transform lives, then I dissipate the energies that could go into writing, revising, editing, rewriting, imagining, sharing, listening, telling stories, and being filled with wonder.

I don’t receive new ideas until I put the current ones occupying my mind on paper and release them to be critiqued, expanded upon, or affirmed. It really is that easy. The food always slips into the background and becomes delicious fuel rather than my main source of entertainment or the bane of my existence when I put my energy behind what I know to be the real point of being alive—sharing all of me with whoever wants it.