I Turn 60 Tomorrow!

Today is the last day of my 50s, so I’ve been reflecting on this decade, setting intentions, and cultivating hopes for the next one.  What happens in my 60s is really up to me. I’m in exquisite health, have a solid spiritual foundation, harmonious relationships, meaningful work, sufficient money and material objects, a strong desire to be a world traveler rather than tourist.  I turn 60 in good company, not only all the others from Delphi’s class of ’76, but famous people who look pretty good join me: Madonna, Sharon Stone, Angela Bassett, Michelle Pfeiffer, Annette Benning, Kevin Bacon, Tim Robbins to name a few.

A NEW CALLING

I’ve had a new career this past decade and just celebrated 10 years working as a spiritual director for Hazelden, the premiere organization in the world (in my opinion) for treating addiction to alcohol and other drugs. I have a job that is never dull, requires creativity and spiritual fitness, and use my intelligence, intuition, and experience to help others find a power greater than themselves that also resides in their being. It’s a daily privilege and challenge to make spirituality as practical as I can.

A DISAPPOINTMENT

My writing this past decade has been more off than on. It’s been 22 years since my book Toward a Feminist Rhetoric was published, and in the interim I’ve gotten another degree, fallen in love and married, moved a number of times, built a beautiful lake cabin, read hundreds of books and journaled thousands of pages. I’ve just not published much other than a couple essays in Presence. This blog came to be several years ago as a toe in the publishing waters.

A DREAM

In the coming decade I want to fulfill this persistent dream of publishing a book that inspires, educates, amuses, and encourages others interested in living free from addiction. I’ve written so much already that can be collected, revised, and expanded. May the “wanting machine” inside me quiet enough to savor the space to write rather than fill it with the next purchase or project.

USA Is Spiritually Bankrupt

I keep reading “This is not who we are as a country,” and yet this is, apparently, exactly who we are.  We are a spiritually bankrupt nation. While not every single person is in spiritual free-fall, collectively we are.  Here are just a few of the signs:

Operating from fear rather than love. This often takes the form of withdrawing behind the protection of rationality, moving into an intellectual, hypothetical realm when confronted with income and opportunity disparities, overt injustice, and sobbing children.

Putting stuff before people. We prioritize material over spiritual connections and place tasks before people in order to protect ourselves from feeling vulnerable. We have more storage units than affordable housing, each of us probably knows someone who hoards, and we shop and sell our stuff for entertainment rather than create music, art, or converse with each other. It’s easy to be in control when organizing a closet or shopping for the perfect item, much scarier to talk to people about their lives, listen to hard stories, and be present to radically different views.

Being materially comfortable but unwilling to share. When the Syrian refugee crisis began, I wanted each one of us in this wealthy nation with a spare bedroom to host a family for as long as needed, knowing that act of generosity would benefit our homes and communities for decades to come. Instead, our country admitted a tiny number of people in need.

Holding imaginary lines (borders) above human connection. Borders, like money and laws, are human constructs that can be changed when they no longer serve a life-giving purpose. That people are now traumatized because they are asking for help at our borders (at lower numbers than ever, by the way) demonstrates our spiritual bankruptcy.

Good news! Spiritual bankruptcy is reversible but only when it is acknowledged, which is a very humbling process. In fact, humility is the essence of spiritual fitness, and the USA has lacked that quality almost from its inception. The roots of today’s crisis are in the founding of this nation—genocide of Native people, systematic separation and destruction of those cultures and families, enslavement of Africans, separation of those families and destruction of those languages and spiritual practices. Our founders did not approach difference with curiosity and a willingness to learn, and that arrogance and entitlement persists today. It’s what keeps the Electoral College in place rather than one person-one vote, which has reversed two elections.

Becoming spiritually fit requires a paradigm shift of magnitude.  What restores a spiritually bankrupt state of being? Love. Hope. Humility. Responsibility. Awareness. Accountability.  If this is not the America we want to be, then we need to articulate that vision, use art and creative acts to imagine what we DO want, and create just laws that keep in check the worst of human qualities, such as greed and fear-based exclusion.

What might a well-nourished spirit do? 

If we had the courage to heed our hearts, many of us might head south to hold babies, comfort toddlers and free parents detained for the simple act of asking for help. We would witness in fierce and loving silence every single act our US gestapo, ICE, takes, and awaken the humanity in those guards who’ve been ordered not to hug a sobbing two year old. Those who conduct this president's diabolical plan to dismantle the remaining shreds of our democracy need to know that more people want to give, love, and connect than retreat behind a wall.  We, the most militarized nation on Earth, will not fund a new branch of the military. 

Waiting for permission, a leader, a movement to take action may be not be spiritually bankrupt, but it is spiritually timid. Wave after wave of loving bodies showing up during hard times can restore our humanity and reclaim our souls.

What Am I NOT Seeing?

I recently experienced an object lesson in empathy.  One afternoon a directee squinted into the sun as she sat down, and as I adjusted the blinds, it occurred to me I could rearrange the furniture so that she didn’t have to face the window. I’d often tinkered with the blinds without considering the possibility of moving furniture. Now we sit side by side with our backs to the sunlight.  Why did it take me five years to figure this out? Because my chair had its back to the window in an arrangement I had inherited, I really had no idea what life was like in the other chair.

What else have I inherited without questioning?  What social “furniture” should be moved to make lasting changes that benefit everyone?

I pride myself on being able to imagine others’ lives, but nothing compares to sitting in the other’s chair. My world was forever changed after living for a summer with a Muslim family in Turkey.  All the novels in the world couldn’t create that life-changing experience. How do we bridge differences we only imagine?

Recently, Loyola staff had a workshop on dismantling racism to examine our preconceived ideas, unexamined assumptions, and cultural blinders that prevent us from reaching as many people as we might. One lesson in the video we watched was that white people have the luxury of avoiding racists (including those in our own families) but people of color don’t have that luxury. So whites have a responsibility to confront racists, even over a dinner table. When has tending my comfort been the priority rather than starting a difficult conversation?

Jesus said it’s easy to love the lovable, but the real opportunity to see the Christ in others comes when our differences are the most apparent. I look forward to a year of rich discussions, new learnings, and growth as we put dismantling racism center stage for staff development. We hope to do more than adjust the curtains.

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.