How to Live

This poem is posted this morning on the Writer's Almanac. It's amazing. I was pleased to know that I'm on the right track. I like Thai food and have a turtle (he's actually my son's, but I've been his primary caregiver for the last 8 years). I don't hear hidden meanings in a cardinal's song, but I do feel that a cardinal is a valentine from God. :)

This poem is a great reminder of the richness, variety, and open-hearted possibilities each of our lives offer:

"How to Live" by Charles Harper Webb, from Amplified Dog. © Red Hen Press.

 
How to Live
"I don't know how to live."
–Sharon Olds
Eat lots of steak and salmon and Thai curry and mu shu
pork and fresh green beans and baked potatoes
and fresh strawberries with vanilla ice cream.
Kick-box three days a week. Stay strong and lean.
Go fly-fishing every chance you get, with friends
who'll teach you secrets of the stream. Play guitar
in a rock band. Read Dostoyevsky, Whitman, Kafka,
Shakespeare, Twain. Collect Uncle Scrooge comics.
See Peckinpah's Straw Dogs, and everything Monty Python made.
Love freely. Treat ex-partners as kindly
as you can. Wish them as well as you're able.
Snorkel with moray eels and yellow tangs. Watch
spinner dolphins earn their name as your panga slam-
bams over glittering seas. Try not to lie; it sours
the soul. But being a patsy sours it too. If you cause
a car wreck, and aren't hurt, but someone is, apologize
silently. Learn from your mistake. Walk gratefully
away. Let your insurance handle it. Never drive drunk.
Don't be a drunk, or any kind of "aholic." It's bad
English, and bad news. Don't berate yourself. If you lose
a game or prize you've earned, remember the winners
history forgets. Remember them if you do win. Enjoy
success. Have kids if you want and can afford them,
but don't make them your reason-to-be. Spare them that
misery. Take them to the beach. Mail order sea
monkeys once in your life. Give someone the full-on
ass-kicking he (or she) has earned. Keep a box turtle
in good heath for twenty years. If you get sick, don't thrive
on suffering. There's nothing noble about pain. Die
if you need to, the best way you can. (You define best.)
Go to church if it helps you. Grow tomatoes to put store-
bought in perspective. Listen to Elvis and Bach. Unless
you're tone deaf, own Perlman's "Meditation from Thais."
Don't look for hidden meanings in a cardinal's song.
Don't think TV characters talk to you; that's crazy.
Don't be too sane. Work hard. Loaf easily. Have good
friends, and be good to them. Be immoderate
in moderation. Spend little time anesthetized. Dive
the Great Barrier Reef. Don't touch the coral. Watch
for sea snakes. Smile for the camera. Don't say "Cheese."

The Worry Cure

Last night as I was climbing into bed my prayer was a request for help with worrying. Usually I am not a big worrier--I'm optimistic by nature and typically expect good things to happen. And good things almost always do. But perhaps because of the major changes in my life over the last several months--my son going to college for the first time, my daughter having a baby, my youngest son growing 8 inches in a year and suddenly discovering girls (!)--I have noticed an increase in the worry refrain in my not-so-conscious thoughts. I worry about my daughter driving with the baby to the bank by herself. I worry about my son getting overly tired when he stays up til 5:00am writing papers. I worry about my youngest wanting to go to a different high school where he will be the "new kid."

All of these are normal, natural parts of growing up (for them and for me). But the after-effects left me in a pattern of worrying. And worry is more than wasted energy--it creates fearful images of what might happen (thinking the worse) and projects them outward as though they could be a reality. And what's worse is that I might then believe that the worries are real and change my actions based on them, which can impact the messages I give to my kids about the goodness of life, my hope for the future, or my belief in the care of God.

So last night, my prayer was that somehow (God knows how) I might be released from this unnatural, unpeaceful worried state. I know God doesn't want me walking around with a low-grade worry fever, a kind of fear-based static that keeps me on my toes, watchful, anticipating something scary. That's just not God's way of doing things. From what I believe about God and God's world, there is a harmony, a loving harmony, in which all things work together for our good. We are loved and cared for and safe. This is the opposite of worry. Last night I prayed to remember what is real about God and to release the fearful thought forms I was creating by losing touch with my belief of the constancy of God's care.

This morning I awoke with energy and joy. One of the first thoughts in my head was, "If life really is a smorgasbord, what would I choose for myself today?" What an empowering thought! If I can choose anything I want for today, what would I serve myself? Joy, comfort, care, peace. Remembrance of God. A happy family and loving neighbors. Meaningful work. A sense of care and comfort for the world.

My hope for you today is that, if you find yourself in the clutches of worry, you will let God heal your worried mind and remind you how much you are loved. And then you will be free to choose the best parts from the smorgasbord your life is offering you right now!

Merit or Grace?

Yesterday I awoke with a panicked sense of how-will-I-ever-get-everything-done-today? coursing through my veins. The sun wasn't even up yet, and already I was fretting about all the deadlines I had in my work and the seemingly limited number of hours I had to complete everything. Editors were (and are) waiting. Family members had needs and expectations. I of course had preferences about how I wanted to spend my time.

The first thing I did when I noticed that frightening refrain in my head was to pray about it and do my best to release the unknown day into the hands of the Source who is love and light and harmony. God didn't want me to have a fretful, frightened day. God knows from the span of infinity how pointless it is to give too much sway to momentary upsets. They come and go like leaves floating on water. They are best noticed, acknowledged, and acted on if necessary--but not to be taken too seriously.

After distancing myself a little from the fear (by praying about it), I was able to get some perspective on it. I realized that that panic, for me, comes from a fear of not doing what I say I will, which comes from a fear of not doing the right thing, which comes from a fear of letting people down. As I traced each level of the thought process that produced that awful feeling, I realized at that the root of it was a belief that I had to do everything right--or else. Or else what? What happens if I don't do everything right? What happens if I mess up? What happens if life intervenes and I can't possibly live up to all the obligations I have created for myself?

That's where Grace comes in. Grace isn't about earning or deserving anything. It's not about coloring in the lines, showing up prepared at a meeting, doing or saying the right thing at the right moment.

When I am reacting in fear to the many obligations I have today, I am at some deep level believing that I must do the right things in the right way to be okay. That's a belief in merit, not a belief in grace.

Doing what I say I will do is important to me, and I try to live and work in such a way that I honor that principle in my life. But when I do it out of fear, I lose touch with the world of Grace, which I believe is where God really lives--in peace, harmony, light, and the everything's-okayness that is so conspicuously missing when I'm running through my day trying to escape an imaginary, invisible stress monster that seems always at my heels.

Letting go

I have a feeling I've written about this before--maybe more than once. But I was on the phone with a friend this morning and I found myself talking about how much of mothering--at least in this stage of mothering--is about letting go. Letting go of Kelly and Tony and Ruby as they create their own wonderful family. Letting Christopher go to explore college and be in what sounds and looks like real love perhaps for the first time in his life. Letting Cameron go up to his room after dinner every night so he can talk on the phone to the young lady who has suddenly brought a blush to his complexion.

Letting go means I have to love my own life, simply because it is my own. I loved the time my days were filled with the needs and laughter of my children. But I also love the fact that their lives are now their own--happy, vibrant, full of possibility, with their own friends, interests, talents, and more. I am quickly moving into a time when I will be much less in demand--even Cameron will be driving before I know it--and I'd better be really in love with my own life by then. I think God gives us lives not to simply give to others (a tough lesson for women like me who love caring for our families) but to also enrich, enjoy, and expand them for ourselves.

I love to write, cook, read, listen to music, learn about God and others. I'm fascinated with Jung and dreamwork; I love to garden and watch things bloom. I adore my animals--and, of course, my kids and grandbaby. I love them all, but not because I need them to fill a hole in my life or keep me from being alone with myself. I actually love alone time. I love silence. I love watching old movies. There's a lot of me that just enjoys life--whether or not I am doing something for my children or not.

If I never let go, I wouldn't be able to see, feel, and appreciate that.

Enjoy your letting go today!

Pure Experience

Years ago Christopher and I drove through a wintry landscape to Kalamazoo, Michigan, where we sat in the front row of a college auditorium and were absorbed in the experience of live jazz played by Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. It was one of those high-point experiences--live music, spontaneously created and released into the air all around us. I had one of those crystal clear thoughts that stayed with me (which, when you first look at it, may seem to make no sense): "Jazz is a perfect moment."

To me, that statement meant that the improvisation that happens--that expresses itself as music--in the jazz solos performers create--is a perfect moment of creation. The solos aren't notated or memorized--the notes, the patterns, the riffs come naturally, arising in the heart, mind, fingers, and breath of the artist and released freely, never to be repeated exactly the same way again. It's a perfect moment of creation and gift--involving those who create it and those who receive it.

In something I read by Jung over the last couple of days I happened across the phrase "pure experience." Pure experience is what happens when you can arrive in the present moment clear-minded, open, and free of the burdens of the past or the fears of the future. It seems to me that so much of the thought that fills our minds is really clutter that has to do with rehashing the past or protecting ourselves against the future. We live our lives in our heads, trying to figure out the next thing to do, understand the thing that happened in the past, or check off items on our mental to-do list so we can feel like we accomplished something at the end of the day.

Being open to "pure experience" is more than an intellectual experience. It means feeling life in your whole body--letting the music reverberate in your heart, your hands, your toes. It means welcoming your whole self--mind, body, and spirit--into the presence of life happening now.

When we can notice that we have arrived in this moment--with its cool breeze, its noisy traffic, its sunlight, its music, or its quiet--we find the simple and profound gift of pure experience, already here, waiting for us to notice.

Forgiveness: How big is your story?

Rabbi Irwin Khula is being interviewed on The Today Show right now about the forgiveness of the Amish community in Pennsylvania after the horrific tragedy of the schoolhouse shootings. The rabbi just said something amazing and beautiful. In answer to Matt Lauer's question, "Is forgiveness a religious issue?" He said, "No--I believe there's a fundamental, powerful yearning in all humans for connection. Forgiveness becomes, 'How big is your story?' If you start your story at the violence and proceed from there, you're going to find it difficult to forgive. But if you can expand your story to include all of this person's painful life, his woundedness, his illness, his family, you will be able to see how much led up to this moment.'" And then, with understanding, forgiveness is within reach.

There's a line in A Course in Miracles that has been one of my favorites for years: Seek to understand another and you cannot fail to love him. When we can expand our view, letting the story be bigger than the horrific act, our understanding brings compassion, we begin to grasp the struggle, and ultimately, we may find ourselves connecting--and then forgiving--in a profound way.

Bumping into Mystery

Last week brought one of the biggest experiences of my life. Thursday night at 8:43pm I became a grandma for the first time. Ruby arrived in the world, big, pink, and healthy. In the days leading up to her birth, I became aware of the vastness of Mystery in a way I'd never noticed it before. Birth is such an exciting and joyful event--the rebirth of hope, innocence, and newness of life. But birth isn't achieved in this world without risk--danger and pain. As a mom hoping, praying, and believing that childbirth would be a great experience for my daughter, I was keenly aware of how much was outside my control. I was aware--in a totally new way--of the huge unanswered questions about the development of life, the organization of cells, the spirit indwelling, and the relationship between being and nonbeing.

I witnessed the meeting of Ruby and mama and dada; I held her in my arms; I silent expressed my gratitude to God for knowing the way and holding us all in the midst of this Great Mystery. I'll never forget any of the moments, the faces, the sounds--or the feeling of bumping into the vast, indescribable Mystery that I can't grasp or understand but can somehow trust.

Intellect & Emotion

Last night I had a really interesting dream. Two friends who had been living together for a long time were breaking up. One woman followed the other out on the front lawn, yelling at her. She was completely consumed with her upset. At one point she threw something (a  glass something) at the little orange VW bug that apparently belonged to the other woman. The other woman was calm and sad. She was quiet, resolute. She had packed her things and loaded them in the car and was about to drive away from the apartment they'd shared for a long time.

In my dream, I stood at the back of the car (having just helped to load it, I guess), looking on with love and compassion. These women were both apparently my good friends from college. In my dream, I understood that even though there were many hurt feelings right now, we would all remain friends. I wasn't worried. I was even a little amused, because I knew the end of the story.

As I wrote in my journal and reflected on the dream (common theory being that all characters in our dreams are really parts of us), I asked myself where I was the woman heaving the glass vase at the other woman's car. And who was that other woman, calm, sad, quiet, but not operating from emotion?

She was my rational side, my intellect.

I think it's part of the human condition to be living out many influences at the same time. We are pushed and pulled between desire and will; between hope and doubt; between feelings and thoughts. We can intellectualize our experiences, but processing them requires opening to, being honest with, and giving our feelings a voice. And then after they've thrown glass vases at our reasoning, we need to give our intellect a chance to make meaning of the experience--what just happened? What does it mean? How does it enrich and expand the story my life is creating with itself?

I think the part of me standing behind the car (by the engine, in a VW bug, btw), smiling and knowing everything was okay, was my spirit. In spirit there was no argument--there's no division--there's no struggle or shouting on the lawn. The spirit has a vision I can only glimpse fleetingly, in harmonious moments.

And, of course, in my dreams. :)

God as gravity

This morning I was thinking about Oneness, about how it's more than a pleasant concept or some ideal we try to live up to. The idea of Oneness is becoming more real to me the older I get. The mistake of separation--the idea that we're little, alone, and vulnerable--is seeming more obviously a mistaken belief of the ego to me.

I remember years ago trying to imagine a sense of everything being One. The picture in my head was something like sunlight spreading over an open field--how it expands and lights up everything it touches. I thought one basic thing we have in common is that all of us, sooner or later, touch the earth in some way--right now you're sitting on a chair that touches the floor that touches the foundation of your house of office, which touches the earth. We drive in cars or ride in busses with tires that touch the earth. When we walk, run, jog, or bike we touch the earth. Even when we fly, at the start and end of our flight, we are touching the earth (and some would argue that we are still in earth's atmosphere even in the air, so we're still part of the earth.)

So as I experiment with ideas of Oneness, it occurred to me that maybe God is gravity--unseen like that natural force, but giving us such a powerful and constant hug that he holds us on the planet, each and every one of us, every minute. :)

A Moment of Grace

In the Today's Gift email I get from Hazelden, I found the following quote:

"Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied." --Pearl S. Buck

This is one of those ideas that stunned me for a moment because (1) I'd never had this thought in my head before, and (2) because it is so true. I can think back to choices I made in my life that caused me pain (or at least gave me a mess to dig out of later), and I can remember clearly the moment when I was struggling with whether to go forward or choose a different route. Even when I prayed about some of those decisions, I still often made choices that turned out not to be for my good. Turns out that I didn't know it at the time, but I was unclear at my hurting places, and I could easily be swayed into choosing the wrong thing for me. As a friend told me over coffee one morning, "The next time you face something like that, call me--I think even though you were praying about it, you ultimately told yourself what you wanted to hear."

A lot of healing and radical commitment to self-love gradually led me into a place where I could discern whether something was good for me or not. But I love the idea that this moment of grace is built into every choice. God puts it there for us. And we will eventually have the eyes and heart to see it. When you're pivoting on the edge of a decision, look for it. If you can't see it, ask a friend. If it still isn't clear, wait for it. Grace is always present. Sometimes our eyes just need time to adjust to the light.

Readiness

Indiana is poised and waiting. In the last two days, the temperature dropped from 89 degrees in the blazing afternoon to a cool 73. The sky is thick with big gray clouds. The leaves shimmer on the branches, just ready to begin turning.

The river birch tree in our garden has already begun shedding her leaves. Maybe she's more interested in being one of the first of the season than she is in displaying any colorful magnificence. :)

It's one of those moments of heightened awareness when the fullness of summer is all around you. You take a deep breath and look all around. In just a moment--any moment now--everything will begin to change very quickly. The leaves will turn colors and become a carpet on the ground; the sky will clear and become frosty blue. Soon the snow will fly.

But for this moment, the air is big with the abundant life and growth of summer. We have something to celebrate. We are ready. Let the winds of change bring the next awesome vista in this journey.

The Perfect Blessing

I found this wonderful blessing in this month's edition of Yoga Journal:

Lokah Samasta

Sukinoh Bhavantu

May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute to the happiness and freedom for all."

Doesn't that just cover what you would wish for every living being everywhere? If everyone everywhere were happy and free, there would be no war, no hate, no sickness, no hardship, no poverty, no isolation, no rejection of anything God created, ever. It's the ideal of the kingdom of heaven realized within us.

May you be happy and free today, moving in harmony with the limitless Love that created, sustains, and cares for you. :)

The crime of comparison

This morning as I was driving through the misty countryside (the sun was just coming up and lighting the fog hovering over the cornfields--gorgeous!), I thought about the fresh intensity of beauty, perfection, life. This moment is unlike any other. It has its own gift, its own peace, its own perfection. I don't need to compare it with any other moment--when, I muse absently, I was either happier or sadder, more preoccupied or more present, more in tune or more out of sync. This moment is perfect now. I feel joy and appreciation in it. End of story.

The crime of comparison, I think, is that when we line a moment up with another--or compare our accomplishments with another person's, someone's house against another person's house, this car against that one, this talent and that, we overlook the sacredness of both people, places, moments, or events we're comparing. Each has a gift, if we have the open eyes and heart to receive it.

May each of us be open to the holy gift in each and every moment, person, and experience today. :)

Efficiency

My son Cameron is 13 and loves golf. He loves it so much that he played on average three times a week throughout the summer. By the end of the season, he was ready for some better clubs. His score for 18 holes had dropped from 100 to 88. He started watching every golf match he could find on television. He observed the pros. He spent lots of time on the course. It seemed to be the one thing he couldn't get enough of.

I decided that this was enough of a passion that I wanted to invite an expert to give him some feedback, so I contacted the golf pro at the course where Cameron plays. The lesson was interesting and packed with really amazing but subtle information that applied not just to golf but to life. Chuck talked about the importance of taking time, looking clearly, noticing your energy, balancing on your feet. He explained (and demonstrated through some actions Cameron could immediately feel and understand) how the muscles work together to support you in a natural, efficient swing.

He demonstrated how when all these forces are in tune--sight, balance, and motion--the contact with the the ball is natural and fluid, sending it 240 yards straight toward the pin at the end of the farway.

This morning I've been thinking about efficiency. When our forces--mind, emotions, body--are in tune, I think efficiency is dramatically increased in all areas of our life. We move with grace; we respond emotionally to the present moment and then move on through it; we have the energy we need to complete the tasks of our day with joy and appreciation. Efficiency makes things look easy, because everything is in alignment leading up to that point. When the contact--with the ball, the event, the obstacle, or the person--is made, all the harmony of the universe is lined up to support it. :)

Listen

I found this amazing quote by Franz Kafka in a powerful book I'm reading right now called Essential Aurveda: What it is & what it can do for you:

"You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait. Do not even wait, be quite still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstacy at your feet."

How wonderful is that?!

I picked up this book because although something I found in an article on Auryvedic eating cured 25 years of chronic headaches for me (no kidding!), I had never really understood Auryvedic principles enough to know how to put balanced meals together. I thought it was complicated. But this book makes it simple, and elegant, and clear. And what's more, the author, Shubhra Krishan, writes about health and beauty in all elements of life--not simply diet (although what we put into our bodies--physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually is very important in terms of encouraging or creating obstacles for health).

Just what we need, when we need it

I am continually surprised to discover that I tend to write about things that I will need later that day. It's curious--the post I wrote yesterday had occurred to me as a flash of an idea when I was writing to my friend. After I posted it, I thought I'd wrapped up the idea and put it out there, and that was that. But at 2:00am this morning it really came in handy. Something startled me awake and then I was suddenly beset by a huge cloud of anxiety--about everything, from my work to my relationships to my house. I was so churned up inside I couldn't get comfortable and tossed and turned. It was so unlike me (I usually sleep soundly and well--especially when the nights are cool enough to have the windows open!) and the fact that it was unusual gave me something else to worry about!

But then I remembered my post from yesterday morning. I noticed instantly that my stomach was tightened into a knot. Even my jaw was tight. I realized that I was fighting imaginary problems in the dark, when I was only partially conscious and not clear-headed enough to refute the worries as I might in the light of day. What I really needed to do was identify the sources of the upset--real or not--and then, one by one, give them to God and leave them for Him to deal with. So I mentally grabbed hold of the first worry, and put it in God's hands with a prayer. There, that felt better. I did it with the next worry, and the next one, and the next one. My jaw relaxed. My breathing slowed and lightened. Soon my stomach had unknotted. Soft and open, remember? By the time I'd handed off all my mostly imaginary worries to God, I was well on my way back to sleep.

Thanks, God, for giving us what we need before we even know we need it. You think of Everything. :)

Who's speaking, God? You or me?

Corresponding with a dear friend the other day, I realized that I use a kind of built-in discernment tool when I'm trying to determine whether a leading is coming from God or from me.

When there's something going on--maybe something that I'm praying for that I really want to happen--and I get that sense of peace about it, I feel that I've "turned the battle" over to God and it's out of my hands. But to really be sure, I check in with how I feel.

If I feel soft and open inside, knowing that I'll trust God no matter what happens, I feel like I'm in tune with God.

If I feel hard and rigid inside, thinking, "this just HAS TO happen!," then I usually think I haven't really turned the situation over to God and I'm still clutching to it and hoping I'll get my way, whether that is God's way or not.

For me, God's thoughts bring a strong sense of peace and everything's okay-ness. They always join, share, include, love. The thoughts I have that do not spring from my connection with God are often about worry, control, or my own protection. That seems really significant to me.

Luckily God will bring those hurting thoughts back to the whole, sooner or later, when I realize what's happening and really turn the issue over once and for all.

The Centering Point

This morning I awoke with such a strong sense of okayness at the core of my being. It's hard to describe, but it's as though I finally found that place within where God is always shining, untouched and uninhibited by the worries of the world or the demands of my day. During yoga, I let the feeling of that sacred space wash over me. In meditation, it was still there. I wrote about it (such as I could, with words and their limits) in my journal. Now, five hours later, it's still with me. Could it be a new piece of understanding that has come to stay? God, I hope so. :)

Bidden or Unbidden

Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit

Called or not called, the god will be there

-inscription on Carl Jung's gravestone


I just finished reading a beautiful and soul-filling book called, "Carl Jung: Wounded Healer of the Soul," by Claire Dunne. Ms. Dunne has somehow, miraculously, painted a vibrant portrait of Jung, who seems so fully alive he still pours off the pages. God's gift of life continues to radiate stronger and stronger. Called or uncalled, how can it be missed? :)

Photo from pg 2 of book, credited to K. Mann Library, NY

Nothing Is Missing

This morning I awoke and heard the pouring rain hitting the roof, the trees, the grass, the flowers, and thought, "Nothing is missing--God has provided everything we need, eternally."

The principle of harmony--that there is an underlying, balanced harmony among everything God created--has been floating around in my awareness for the last several weeks. Like a leaf on the water that floats closer to you and then drifts away again, I feel as though I almost grasp something important about the concept and then, as I reach for it, my excited movement causes a ripple that pushes it just outside my reach. So perhaps time is an important tool to use as I grow into an awareness of harmony. Not because time is real (because I'm increasingly questioning that--time is at least, I'm convinced, expandable), but because by using time in a spiritual way, we open up in patience and trust that the leaf will float all the way up to us at just the right time.

After all, the principle of harmony is at work. :)

Joy

There are those moments in life that are fully rounded, perfect, joyful. This weekend I experienced many of those moments as we watched Christopher graduate from high school. The whole family came together--we laughed, we hugged, we told stories, we relaxed. Thank you SO MUCH, God! :)

Love Means Both/And

Every so often when I'm working in the late afternoon, I turn on the television and listen to Oprah as I work. Yesterday was one of those days. In recent months, Oprah has added an amazing woman, known as Dr. Robin, to her shows that deal with emotional issues, patterns, problems. This woman is a real truth-teller; she's compassionate but doesn't pad anything. She inspires courage in others. She calls people to better care of themselves because they deserve it--not because they've been bad or wrong or incomplete. In my opinion, she's really got it together and serves people lovingly and truthfully.

Yesterday she asked a man on the stage to consider where he first witnessed or experienced the kind of destructive pattern he was now creating in his family life. She said, "A wound like this can only come from early childhood--where did you first see someone treating others this way?" The man at first said, "I don't know--my parents were perfect, the best..." but as Dr. Robin continued to ask the question, he began to cry. He said, "I love my dad, but he did't respect my mom--I love you, Dad--he never listened to anyone, not ever." Dr. Robin said, "He didn't listen to you," and he responded, "He didn't listen to anyone."

Dr. Robin said this was a very deep and important issue--we need to be able to hold those two realities--"I love you and you hurt me"--in the same space. Our tendency is to group people into "good" or "bad" groups. When they do things that affirm, uplift, reassure, or accept us, we think they are "good" and we love them. When they do things that tear us down, reject us, hurt us, or judge us, we think they are "bad" (or worse, that we are the bad ones and deserve it), and we believe we should stay away from them and not love them. So it becomes hard to us to be honest when we are hurt by the people that we have to love for our own sense of identity; we will deny the hurt, put it away, blind ourselves to it--and then later in our lives, unknowingly recreate it so it can be welcomed out and healed. Maybe this is where the whole "us and them" game comes from in life. This may be the root of the conflicts we have in our workplaces, our congregations, our marriages.

This morning in my reflection time, I was thinking about how important it is to be able to speak the truth and say, "I love you and you hurt me. I was hurt by your words, your example, your messages--and I love you and know you were doing the best you could at the time." Telling the truth is the first step. Loving anyway is the second.

Maybe that's what Jesus was getting at when he wept over Jerusalem and when he said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." He still loved--and loves--us, even now.

Bouncing Back

Last night we had one of the first torrential rains of the season. By that I mean the raindrops were big, pounding, relentless. Some areas of the state received up to 3 inches of rain in just a few hours. The rain fell for the first time on the heads of my poor petunias, geraniums, zinnias. I noticed when I opened the curtains early this morning that the sand cherry bush had a serious droop--she looked like she'd been beaten down through the night by the driving rain. The instant after I noticed her sad look, though, I envisioned the bush springing back, tall, growing, blossoming. It's really a beautiful bush, and a little rain isn't going to change that.

I thought about experiences we have in our lives when we're beaten down by relentless rain, negativity, "bad luck," unhappy circumstances. Our leaves droop; our flowers fall off. Our smiles are gone. We may feel down and out for a little while; but after the rain stops, our leaves will begin to perk back up; the life will flow through our veins; we'll lift our heads. Over time, we may even see that we came back stronger than ever, fnding that the flooding nourished our roots in a way a surface watering couldn't.

Wherever you are today, whether there's rain or sunshine in your life, know that there's a strength inherent in you that is eternal and divine. We always bounce back--not because of anything we do, but because it's the nature of God's hope.

An Alive Stillness

Last night I decided to sleep with the windows and the blinds open because for the first time this season I could hear crickets chirping, and the moonlight on the tree outside my window was lighting up the leaves and windowsill in such a beautiful way. Sometime in the middle of the night, I was startled awake by a sound. An owl was calling out in the woods right behind our house. Twice, three times. An eerie, other-worldly sound. A few minutes later, I heard a plop! which sounded like it happened right beside my head. It was the frog in the pond right outside my window.

When I opened my eyes at 6:00am, my ears were already full of the sounds of the morning. Songbirds--many songbirds--were already greeting the day. A woodpecker knocked on a tree not far away. The frog was making that low chiiiii--rup sound. I sat up and stretched, and thought about the difference between silence--the lack or sound--and stillness, a sense of harmony that occurs in listening, waiting, participating in the moment.

It's interesting to me how all these joyful, life-filled sounds arise and return to stillness. It's the underlying harmony of all things. Stillness is not lack of sound but the full potential of all sound. Our spirits rise and rest in stillness. Our love radiates from stillness. Our laughter erupts from stillness. And our prayers spread and smooth and expand the stillness, rippling it calmly outward in an embrace for the entire world.

Blessings on your day!

Releasing Others

Have you ever had a hurt that keeps bubbling up in your thoughts over and over again? Months after I thought I was done with a painful situation, I found myself still trying to figure it out, get my mind around it, decipher what had happened and understand once and for all how the other person could have acted that way. I realized (maybe because I'm rereading The Power of Now, by Eckhart Tolle) that I was wasting time and energy trying to resolve something that isn't even here, isn't real, isn't happening now--it was over and done with months ago. Why was I spending so many of my present moments stuck on that past event?

As soon as I realized I was spending my time, energy, and focus on something that doesn't exist (and keeping myself stuck in the past at the same time), I also saw that when I focus on the past hurt that way, I am freezing the other person there as well. I am believing them to be that person who hurt me, and while I keep them stuck there, I am not forgiving them. So playing that mental videotape of what they did wrong, how insensitive they were, or how they hurt me only continues to keep us both stuck--and here's the most important point: it's not real. God would have us both be free!

This was a huge insight for me. Immediately I prayed, "In the name of Christ, who is all freedom and joy, I release you, _____, from the image construction I held of you in my mind. I give you absolute freedom. Blessed be!"

I felt such a huge sense of relief and release after praying this that I wanted to share it with you. If you are feeling stuck or keep reliving past moments that hurt you, ask yourself (and your spirit, and God) who it's time to release. Then go out into the sunshine, and enJOY your day! I know I will. :)

[Thank you, God!] :)

Radical Self-Acceptance

I've been doing a lot of healing over the last eight or nine months, working through old beliefs and messages that shape my thinking and my experience in the world. I feel that's part of God's work, helping us dissolve whatever holds us back from radiating more and more light. And I've come to believe that none of the blocks are really outside me--any obstacles I experience have to do with something in my thought system that is ready to be recognized and brought to truth.

Because I'm aware that I've been changing and getting clearer, I was surprised to find that I spent this weekend chained in the basement of "not good enough." I am behind on several writing projects (I'm writing two books at once for Microsoft right now and the deadlines overlap); I am not working as fast or as intensely as I usually do; I am not driving myself with the same unbending discipline that used to keep me up working until 2 or 3am. In other words, the thought, "What's wrong with me?!" was rattling around in my head almost all weekend. And like anything else in life, when you ask the question, you get the answer. So I was receiving a steady stream of negative thoughts that told me exactly what was wrong with me--and none of it was kind, compassionate, or understanding.

I realized finally late last night, after suffering and beating myself up all weekend (while I tried to work--which was double agony), that this situation of being behind on my deadlines was kicking up all the places where I wasn't yet able to be loving with myself. Does my good care of myself depend on me getting my chapter done on the exact day I promised? Does meeting a deadline make me a good person? Of course not. I know all these things--and I thought I'd worked through them. But here again I found myself living out old beliefs--unconsciously hurting myself and pushing myself and chastizing myself, trying to drive myself into that place where I would feel I was "good enough."

What a blessing to witness this attitude in myself! It is old thinking; untrue beliefs; attitudes that don't fit me anymore. I already know that, but like the smell of last night's dinner still lingering in the kitchen, the effects of that thinking still echo around inside me sometimes (usually when I'm under pressure). Recognizing the echos, I can throw open the windows and let the old beliefs out. They don't live here anymore. They aren't part of my new life of radical self-acceptance. The God I know and follow is about mercy, compassion, true love, and forgiveness--not control, judgment, criticism, and continually raising the bar so I have to jump ever higher in hopes of somehow earning that ellusive "unconditional love."

So I'm starting the week released from the prison of self-judgment. That's worth at least one Hallelujah, don't you think?

Present Perfection

Last night we went to hear a band concert at Christopher's school. A variety of different ensembles played the pieces they performed at the state band competition two weekends ago. Some groups--and some players within those groups--seemed more "on" than others. I sat in the darkened auditorium, enjoying the music and the kids, caught up in the swells and patterns (and sometimes squeaks) in the music filling the space.

Suddenly I had an image of the music in my mind, and I thought about all the groups through the years that had played this piece by Grainger, or Bach, or Sousa. These musicians were looking at notes on a page--the same notes dozens (if not hundreds) of ensembles had played before them. Some of those musicians had good days; some not so good; but the music was a constant, always finished, always perfect, always the base of possibility.

I thought how much like that the laws of God operate in our lives. We have the notes--we know it's possible. Creation exists; truth exists; love exists; perfection exists. How open are we to that completeness flowing through us? Some days we are fine instruments, completely in tune, present and willing for the Spirit of God to flow through us. Other days we are worried, or tense; our valves need oiling or our reed is worn out. We are fatigued and fearful. The Spirit through us may sound squeaky or small or miss a few notes (or make an entrance at the wrong time); but the essence of being--the music on the page--is always perfect, always complete, always eagerly awaiting the next musician's loving focus and willing heart.

May we each have a sense of God's perfection within us today, as we yet again sing another day to God. :)

Prayer Chain

I received this wonderful poem by Tim Nolan in this morning's Writer's Almanac and wanted to share it with you. Keep those prayers going! :)

Prayer Chain

My mother called to tell me
about an old classmate of mine who

was dying on the parish prayer chain—
or was very sick—or destitute—

or it had not worked out—the marriage—
or the kids were all on drugs—and

all the old mothers were praying intensely
for all the pain of their children

and for life—they were praying for life—
in their quiet rooms—sipping decaf coffee—

I bet they've been praying for me at times—
so I'll find my way—so I won't rob a bank—

I'll take them—the mystical prayers of old mothers—
it matters—all this patient and purposeful love.

Enjoy your day! :) k

In Harmony with All

I think there's a bullfrog living somewhere in the woods behind my house. Or maybe he's closer, up by the fish pond outside the sunroom window. But wherever he lives, about 5:00 am the last two mornings, I hear a low, burpy sound "brrrrrrrrrrrr--upt!" repeated twice, three times. Then silence. It's as though he's warming up for the beginning of the summer season, when the females will be within hearing distance and he can show off his vocal chords for all they're worth.

Our natural voices are funny things. We all sound so different--we have different squeaks and laughs, our singing voices run a range from the highest high to the lowest low. We sneeze, we giggle, we exclaim (my mother's made-up expletive used to be "Oh, Piffle!"), we (sometimes) snore. We make all kinds of sounds to let each other (and ourselves, and God, perhaps) know we're here, we alive, we're participating in life, we're making noise.

I wonder whether God hears all this as a kind of wondrous, joyful harmony--all his babies creating something good, moving energy (that's all a sound wave is, after all), enjoying this garden he designed. The bullfrog doesn't hide his voice or worry about other animals sleeping (not even me!). He just assumes there's a place for what he does and he sings what comes naturally.

It seems to me this morning that we could learn a lesson from the bullfrog--trying out our voices, getting ready for the season. God gave us something to sing and something to sing about! Whether your sound is a snort or a giggle, a whisper or a shout, remember God with your vocal chords today. I imagine God thoroughly enjoying the great symphony all his creation sings to him moment by moment. And don't think that with all this hubbub, your voice won't be missed, because it will--until you sing your part, the rest of us won't sound complete. :)

First Thoughts

I ran across this wonderful quote this morning in a newsletter I receive from the SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators):

"First thoughts have
tremendous energy.
The internal censor
usually squelches them,
so we live in the realm
of second and third thoughts,
thoughts on thought,
twice and three times
removed from the
direct connection of
the first fresh flash."
~ Natalie Goldberg

Isn't that interesting? It makes me wonder whether we'll be able to hear any of our own First Thoughts today--you know, the ones we share with God. Let's listen together, okay? :)

Time is on God's Side

If you're a child of the 60s or 70s, you'll get a kick out of this reflection. This morning, for some unknown reason, the song, "Time Is On My Side," (by the Rolling Stones) was playing in my head over and over. (At the time, I didn't remember who sang it, but it was playing loud and clear.) As I exercised, as I made coffee, I kept hearing this song. I wrote the phrase in my journal during my meditation and prayer time. When I came up to my office to begin work for the day, I decided to Google the lyrics to find out who wrote the song and discover what the rest of it said.

I thought maybe I was picking up a "time vibe" because I am feeling pressured in my work to catch up with several writing deadlines that are running on ahead of me. :) But as I read the lyrics (which you can read by clicking here), it occurred to me that this is the song God is continually singing to us! Time is on God's side. We can claim our freedom, go off seeking our heart's desires, but eventually, we'll come

running back

running back

running back

to God! Why? Because God's got that "real love--the kind you need, baby." What a fun way to start the day! Who knew Mick Jagger was a prophet? :)

Let There Be...

I read a quote from a woman writer somewhere once (and it's in my journal but I'm not sure where) that said, "Whenever you say, 'Let there be...,' something happens." This morning that idea is floating around in my mind and heart. The power of creation is something I believe God shares with us--as the Ultimate Creative Being, God has given us a share in that amazing ability to create what we choose with our days, our thoughts, our lives.

Sure, we can argue that something "out there" resists or rejects what we create. But maybe we create that too, by envisioning the resistance to begin with.

If you had total power to create something that was important to you today, how would you use that power? Imagine that nothing can hold you back; no one will laugh or criticize you. Your gift will be totally accepted, gladly received, and unreservedly successful. What will you create?

Here are a few possibilities that pop into my head:

"Let there be peace."

"Let there be love."

"Let there be abundance."

"Let there be health."

"Let there be passion."

"Let there be JOY!!!."

What do you want to create today? Roll the rock away and let it out. The world is waiting. :)

Energy & Light

I awoke this morning with more than the usual energy. Elliot the kitten (he's the one on the right in the photo) was purring and pushing at my head, trying to do anything he could to wake me up so I would pet him. This is a fairly regular occurrence lately; I think he realizes sometime close to sunrise that he is just dying to be petted. He's gone so long--all night!--without someone telling him how wonderful he is. :)

Some mornings this really gets old. I gently push him away, or hide under the covers, or just hide my hands under the comforter so he won't keep trying to make me pet him. Eventually he gives up and goes away for a little while. He's an interactive alarm clock with a loud, purring motor.

But this morning Elliot's antics struck me as funny. Maybe I was just ready to get up, but I gave in and cuddled him and scratched his head. He was so appreciative. I got up, got dressed, and took the dogs out, feeling cheerful. Not dragging; not wishing the day could start a little slower; not wondering about how much I can get done today and how in the world that could possibly be enough.

I'm not sure why some days have one kind of energy and other days have another. It might be my diet the night before; it might be my dreams; it might be angels that visit me through the night--I don't know. But I know when the energy is high, when I feel humor and compassion and a sense of gratitude for the day, I feel that I'm in tune with God; and when I drag and grumble and feel too small to face the responsibilities before me, I am somehow out of sync and feeling like a separate little me and forgetting my source.

I don't know why I wake up one day feeling connected and another day feeling not. But I'm grateful for today! And I'm noticing, God. Thanks for the energy and light, and for being always the source that shines throughout my life (whether I'm feeling it or not).

Sharing Our Soul's Stories

Emma Curtis Hopkins says, "The soul doesn't need saving; it needs to be made visible." This really resonates with me because I've discovered that as I grow into self-acceptance, all those places where I judged myself before have become filled with life and energy--they are now a source of healing and joy; a miraculous resource I missed when I was unwilling to explore them!

Sharing our stories helps our soul become visible. We learn to meet ourselves with compassion and welcome back all the pieces we've missed, forgotten, or rejected along the way. I have written a book with my co-author Mike Torres about a program that makes it easy--and free!--for people to begin sharing their stories, their experiences, and their lives with each other. If you've been thinking about blogging but haven't given it a try, come visit our MSN Bookspace and read excerpts of our book. You can use it to begin to express those places in your soul that haven't been welcomed out in a while. They need love too, you know. :)

[No worries about privacy issues--with MSN Spaces you can set up your space to be completely private so no one else--or only the people you specify--can read or see what you post on your space.]

If you aren't sure how you can use blogging (or our book) to tell your stories, drop me a note. I'm a good blog coach! :)

Themes of Temptation

This morning I find myself thinking about the story of Jesus being tempted in the desert during that 40-day vigil. It's interesting to me that he was tempted three different ways--to use the power God gave him to sustain himself ("tell these stones to become bread"); to save himself ("throw yourself down"); or to choose what (or whom) to worship. The key here, it seems to me, is to not be fooled into thinking that our care and protection comes from anything or anyone except God. We may think our own efforts in our career are guaranteeing our success (which brings food for our table and shelter from the cold), but who provides the talent, creativity, opportunity that opens the way for our work? Sometimes I get so caught up in working so hard that I get stressed and fearful when I fall behind. When that happens (like earlier this week!), I have to ask myself--what am I afraid of? Who sustains me, protects me, cares for me? When I realize that my work, my health, my support comes from God alone, I begin to relax and return to my work with less force and fear. I work with focus and integrity. I enjoy what I do. And I thank the One who brings all good things into my life for bringing my mind back to the place of peace and green pastures.

Happy Friday, everyone!

What's the truest thing you know?

What truth is rattling around inside you this morning? Maybe it's something like "It's a beautiful morning." No matter what truth we claim, we can see God in it by looking a little closer: (1) We feel Joy when we encounter beauty. (2) Beauty is a gift given freely to us--we do not earn it (like Grace).

See? There's God, right there. Not even two steps away. I love that. :)

Whatever is true for you today--whether you enjoy a smile, or a sweet moment of peace, or a warm hug, or anticipating a fun evening--say it out loud and give God a wave at the same time. Because if you're enjoying something, God's there. He's in the JOY part. :)

Me, Myself & I: Prodigals All

I'm not sure what started me thinking about this, but the theme of the Prodigal Son has been surfacing in my life a lot lately. Instead of thinking of the prodigal as different people in a story, however, I've been thinking about it as different aspects of myself. I have a "good son" part of me that always tries to do everything right--that feeds the cows and does what's good and true. And I also have an "adventurous and carefree" self that sometimes wants to go off and climb mountains and wander through rainforests. There's a part of me that is really good at creating fantasy (especially when I'm hurt or scared) and there's a part of me that is firmly plugged into reality and knows what it means to have deep roots of faith. I'm rational and irrational; I'm logical and emotional; I'm body and spirit.

But the aspects of myself that I call "good" are much more welcome in my world than the parts that don't do things "right." My prodigal self needs to be able to come home hungry, having tried the wrong road and found it wanting, and find the true, warm, embracing love of a forgiving, understanding self that is eager to welcome those messy aspects back into the fullness of life. But all too often I think I behave like the jealous "good" brother in the story, wanting to tell the prodigal self that it didn't earn it's happiness; it doesn't deserve a break; it didn't do the right thing when push came to shove.

I'm so glad that Jesus told that story. He was talking about grace, mercy, forgiveness. He was talking about what matters--life, all of it--good, bad, messy, wonderful, upside-down, inside-out life. What matters is wholeness, not hiding, truth. When we can welcome those hidden or distanced (or rejected) parts of ourselves back into the family, simply because they exist, we will find what it means--in that very moment--to live Heaven on Earth.

Remarkable Recovery

This morning I read an amazing article written by doctor and breast cancer survivor Mandi Caruso in Spirituality & Health magazine (February 2006). WOW. Talk about inspiring. This woman's story is remarkable, and her own sense of healthy personal power just pours off the page as you read. If you've never read an issue of Spirituality & Health before, now's the time to try it. The article is called "Alive with Passion." Here's the web site.Enjoy and be inspired!

Living Faith

This is a quote from an amazing book by Iyanla VanZant, entitled "One Day My Soul Just Opened Up." I find her writing powerful and full of truth--it affirms much of what I've been learning in my present life circumstances. I hope it blesses you, too!

You are faith in the flesh. God has so much faith in you that you were entrusted with the gift of life and a unique mission to fulfill. Did you ever stop to think that you could have been a fruit tree. You could have berries or flowers sticking out of your ears! Instead you were given the right to make conscious choices, the ability to create through thought and deed, and dominion over every other creature. That is a demonstration of the faith the Divine has in your abilities and capabilities. Your task is to return faith with faith. You must live with the knowledge that everything you need, at any time you need it is being provided. Not will be provided. Is being provided! This is how we can each become an example of living faith: by knowing that your good is on the way. In every undertaking you must live with faith in the power of your thoughts, the efficacy of your words, and the purposefulness of your actions. When you are challenged by seemingly insurmountable obstacles, you must live with faith that the truth of your affirmations, your positive words, will manifest as tangible conditions. When you set a goal, you must proceed with living faith that there is a divine plan unfolding in your life and as your life, and that if the plan is supported by knowledge of spiritual laws, the benefits will be divine. This is how we must direct our thoughts and actions in order to become living faith."

Isn't she amazing? I love it that although Iyanla writes about the power of our thoughts, words, and deeds, she roots that idea in love of God and the desire to manifest God's highest good in our beautiful lives. God is truly at the center of her message as a powerful, empowering, animating, creative force.

Thanks, Iyanla, for sharing your learning, your wisdom, and your voice. :)

Meeting the Day as It Is

When I awoke this morning, later than usual, I stretched and felt that wonderful sense of a full day ahead of me with no particular plans. By mid-morning, however, I had devised a mental list. Finish a bid for a new project for one client. Write the draft of the newsletter for another client. Go to Lowes to buy a ladder. Get to the grocery to get what we need for the week.

No sooner had I finished my mental list than Cameron came up and added his own ideas about what the day should be. He wanted not just Joe but also Justin to spend the night. (Add to the grocery list.) He wanted to stop at Blockbuster to rent a game and/or movie for the sleepover. (Add another stop to the errand list.) Then Christopher came home. He wanted to know when he could paint his new bedroom. (Add to the Lowes list--get paint chips and samples.)

The day continued on this way, changing and branching and flowering. On the way to Lowes we drove through a sudden--and breathtakingly beautiful--snow torrent. On the way home, we drove through snow-covered trees looking up at a creamy almost-full moon. We were late getting back from Lowes, so I made oven-fried chicken instead of chicken parmesan. On a whim I called Kelly and Tony to see whether they wanted to come over for dessert. The night ended (just a few minutes ago), with all of us crashed on the couch and chairs in the family room, watching South Park (not my first choice, but since the average age in the room was 24, I acquiesed to the majority).

The day now, in hindsight, barely resembled the free, quiet, open day I envisioned as I stretched in bed this morning. But you know what? It was richer. It was more work. It had more laughter, and more cuddling. The real day I had, I now know, was much more full of life than the controllable day I thought I was going to have. Unpredictability means blessings in all kinds of packages. I'll remember that tomorrow when I wake up.

Thanks for the day, God, whatever it brings. I know you place a blessing in every moment. :)

Trust In the Slow Work of God

Above all, trust the slow work of God.
We are, quite naturally,
impatient in everything to reach the end
without delay.
We should like to skip
the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on
the way to something unknown,
something new,
and yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through
some stage of instability –
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you.
Your ideas mature gradually –
let them grow,
let them shape themselves,
without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today
what time (that is to say, grace and
circumstances acting
on your own good will)
will make them tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of
feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.

~ Teilhard de Chardin

Feet of Clay

I am one of those people who always sees the good in everything. At first glance that sounds great, because I'll be the one who is sure to find the silver lining, make lemonade out of lemons (my kids hate that phrase! Ha!), and generally always come up with the blessing in any circumstance. The downside is that sometimes I may be not seeing things I really need to see in order to make good choices, fully rounded thought-out choices, that will affect my life and well-being. My work over the last couple of months (the inner work I mentioned the other day) has been about getting to know that eternal optimist who lives in me and find out why she sometimes plugs her ears and sings real loud when the not-so-optimistic voice wants a chance to talk.

We humans are complex and marvelous beings. It feels funny--a bit ticklish--to begin to poke around at your own innards, asking curious questions about why you view the world the way you do. I've done that kind of questioning on a spiritual level--that's part of what I loved so much about seminary--but I feel as though I'm on new ground with Kathy the Human. I feel that I understand the spiritual me fairly well, but the more human me I haven't given as much attention. So the New Year brings an interesting, curious, and adventuresome feel for me. If I really want to walk and talk in the Garden with God, I better find out more about the human being's feet I'm walking in. It's bound to be an interesting journey. You're welcome to come along. Just pack a couple of peanut butter sandwiches. We humans get hungry. :)

All in All

Happy New Year! I hope this year is gleaming with hope and promise for you. I have been doing a lot of work--internal work and external work, public work and private work--but it's all good. :) One of the themes that seems to be arising again and again in my thought and my life and my understanding is the idea of All in All. When things look dark, there's a little bit of light. When things are light, there's a little bit of dark. And varying degrees of light, on a continuum from bright to night. I laugh and tears spring to my eyes. I'm sad and the boys make me laugh. I find a moment of peace springing up unexpectedly in the middle of a hectic afternoon. I lounge through a quiet morning and suddenly burst into a frenzy of busy-ness. People who love us sometimes hurt us. And people who hurt us sometimes love us. I still tend to want to stack life up into neat little piles--but that's really just my attempt to compartmentalize the rich, swirling, unboxable essence of the All. The All in All means that there is that love and hurt and hope and despair and communion and isolation all swirling around us every moment like so many scents on a spring breeze. It's all there. What will we notice? Is it a busy day or a quiet day? Was it a good movie or a bad movie? If it's All in All, there's bits of all of it there, built right into the mix of the moment.

Gifts for the Christ Child in You

Last night I ran to the grocery to pick up a few things. One of the employees there I always talk to walked up, smiling. "So, are you don't with your Christmas shopping yet?" he asked. "No," I admitted. "I haven't even started. I'm just not feeling it yet."

That's an odd admission for me and I realized with some surprise that I really wasn't feeling the same excitement and bubbly joy I usually feel this time of year. This has been a difficult fall for me and maybe my spirit is sagging a little. This morning, still thinking about it, I decided to pray about that issue during my quiet journaling time. An interesting thought swirled its way up into my consciousness. If Christmas giving is really about giving to that of Christ in another, what kind of gifts would I give? I began to envision each person on my list. What gift would I give them to honor the Christ in them? For one person, I saw beautiful scents and lotions; for another, an engraving of his accomplishment; for another, a fine leather-bound book for expressing his wisdom. The ideas for gifts flowed from that central idea of giving to the Christ in each of the people I loved. It was a powerful prayer! The ideas came as fast as I could write them down, and when I finished I had my list and the energy and joy to begin my shopping.

The next time I stop in at the grocery, when someone asks me about my holiday progress, I'll be able to say that I truly got back in tune with the Spirit of Giving this holiday.

Blessings and joy to you today!

Special Holiday Insert! Just for the holidays, come by the fun new space I created, called All Things Christmas This space includes holiday favorites, trivia, organizing templates, and links to great projects, offers, games, and more! Happy Holidays!

Pines and Pears

I was sitting at the kitchen table writing in my journal and sipping coffee when I noticed two trees, side by side, on my neighbor's property 40 feet away. I noticed that I could easily see the clear outline of every leaf on the pear tree, but from that distance the pine looked fuzzy and unclear, no matter how much I squinted and tried to focus. It occurred to me that situations (and sometimes people!) are like that too--some are clear and easy to understand; others are less defined and harder to grasp. I wondered...is that difference inherent in the nature of the tree or in my eyes, or both? The shape of the leaves on the tree (and the personalities of some people and circumstances in some situations) have something to do with how easy they are to see; but also the ability of my own eyes (as well as the limitations caused by being at such a distance) have something to do with hindering or helping my own understanding.

The idea was helpful to me because I can sometimes work so hard at trying to understand situations that are beyond my ability to grasp--I keep working at it like a child wiggling a loose tooth. But usually I just have to put it all back in God's hands and say, "I know you'll give me more understanding about this when and if I should have it, but for now, it's beyond me. I just have to leave it with you."

And you know what? That works a lot better than squinting. :)

A Look in the Mirror

I read something yesterday that said most of us look in the mirror to see how we could be somebody else. If I just get a hair cut, fix that tooth, smooth those laugh lines...

The writer suggested that we might look in the mirror with a different motive: to see who's really there. It's a subtle idea, but important, I think. Two weeks ago I mentioned to my daughter that it would be interesting to change the color of my hair; she has been creative with hair color since fifth grade and I thought maybe I should lighten up a bit (literally and figuratively!). Then two nights ago, getting ready for bed, I paused and looked in the mirror. I noticed for the first time that I have natural red highlights in my hair. I never noticed that before. How is it possible that I've lived 44 years and never known that about myself?

When I read the writer's words yesterday, it came clear to me. I was in such a hurry trying to look better, be better, behave better, that I didn't notice the highlights I already had. Today I want to stop the construction I tend to do on myself and take a break with the intention of making room for a real sense of understanding and appreciation of what's already here. Maybe you'll pause for a moment and do it with me. A collective breath in which we can stop, open our eyes and hearts, and just notice how we shine right now could feel like a real homecoming.

Starshine

Last night Georgie woke me up around 2:30am so she could go outside. Everything was so quiet. Even though it was cold, I stepped outside on the deck in my pajamas and looked up. The stars were so bright and so plentiful--they just filled the sky with their varied brightness. Some were large and bright; some were small and faint; some were clustered together in recognizable patterns (the little dipper and Orion's belt); others seemed to be off alone in the stratosphere.

I thought how much like us the stars seem, different and similar, miraculous and unique while sharing a common luminescent purpose. I wonder, looking Earthward from the perspective of the stars, how we might shine for God? Some brightly, some dimly, some in groups, some alone--but all shining.

Stories That Join

In the aftermath of this horrific hurricane, I was thinking back to an experience I had when I was working at the Stress Center this summer. I was leading the community time for the adult mental health and addictions patients; this is often a quiet and sleepy time where folks who have just received their meds come in and gather for their first group meeting of the day. Typically there were between 10 and 20 people present, and we all sat together in a gathering space where they serve meals later in the day. I always began the morning with a simple story that had some kind of theme related to recovery or healing; sometimes I wrote the stories and sometimes I read stories written by other authors.

On this day, I felt compelled to take in a story I'd written last year, about the mini-flood my neighborhood experienced after four days of torrential rain. I wasn't sure why I wanted to read it or how folks would respond. The openness and engagement of the group varied widely from day to day.

I said my good mornings and told the story, embellishing a little as I talked. I could see from their eyes and postures that they were really connecting with the story. Then, slowly, to my surprise, folks began talking. And for the next 15 minutes, we all shared our experiences of that same flood two years ago--remembering the hardship, the loss, the awful feelings, the fear; but ultimately talking about the miracle of the goodness of people who came to help, offering rides, donating dry clothes, helping children get home from school, making sure we were safe. Just by starting with the story of a flood, that morning the room became filled with hope. People who had never made eye contact with me before were suddenly leaning forward and speaking about what happened to them. Folks who had never said a word to any of the other patients now tuned in and listened, connecting to the group, moving out of their isolation.

As I watch on the news the unspeakable loss and erupting anger that is part of the nature of this type of tragedy, I remember how unifying it was for all of us in the hospital that day to talk about the lesser crisis that had made us one. It didn't take away the very real hardship of the circumstances, but it brought with it the miracle of community. We'd all been there. We'd all been afraid. We'd all suffered. We'd all survived. And people--real people, not governments or agencies or social structures--were good, loving, kind, and giving in the midst of that crisis. We'd seen it with our own eyes. And we believed it.

Please...

* pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *

And when you're doing praying...

Please pray some more.

Prayer changes things. We know it's true--we've seen it happen. We need to turn that belief into spiritual action right now. We can enfold the entire city of New Orleans (and then the other affected cities throughout the gulf region) in protective, calming light. We can imagine God holding and cradling the entire city in his arms. We can pray for clear minds and honest intent in our leaders; for smooth organization of resource deployment; for all obstacles to sustaining care and comfort to be dissolved so that the spirit of God can flow freely and instantly to all who need it.

Thank you, friends. Rest assured I'm out here praying too. This is really a time when we need to do our best to "pray without ceasing."

Up Close

When I awoke yesterday morning, the rest of the world had disappeared into a thick gray fog. I looked out through the kitchen windows into a bluish gray haze. Then I noticed something. Right outside the window, a beautiful, intricate spider web was visible, jeweled with little drops of water from the moisture in the air. I went out on the deck and looked around--on the trees, on the flowers, little lacy webs, visible only just now, when the rest of the world was hidden. With the distance obscured, the present became very clear.

I thought about how that works in my life, too--when I'm looking far ahead, counting my chickens, making plans, I can easily lose touch with the miraculous right in front of me. Sometimes I need God to put me in a fog, to remind me that my future is still out there somewhere, and that the miracle of the gift of this moment is right here, right now, as close as the next rose bush, the nearest smile, the touch of a loving hand.

Spirits

This morning for some reason I awoke with a thought about the difference between the spirit of competition and the spirit of cooperation. In our culture, we have prized competition because it builds (or so the theory goes) a strong, vibrant marketplace that ultimately benefits consumers. Our kids compete in sport and when they win--or even when they lose--we feel it's good for them. That's the way the world works, right?

But this morning I was thinking about the nature of competition and its down-side, comparison. When we compare ourselves with others, maybe we run the risk of putting more energy into the idea of separateness and making it seem more real. And maybe when we put too much focus on what we want to be one day, or worse, who--by comparing ourselves with others and coming up short--we might miss the many ways God has blessed us uniquely to love and serve others our way, creating something beautiful with our lives.

When we cooperate, we work together toward something shared. There is the feeling of traveling together, even if we tussle along the way. It's not our team against their team or our school against theirs--it's, "How can we all have a great time playing football in this program?" It is no longer the arts program competing with the science program for funding, but rather, "How can we provide the best education for our kids?" It's not even, "I do all the real work around here while he sits in his recliner and watches TV!," but "What can we do to make this relationship more alive, more fun, more fulfilling for both of us?"

Perhaps the spirit of competition turns our eyes inward, where we focus on what we need, want, desire. And maybe the spirit of cooperation helps us fix our eyes on something bigger than ourselves and our individual wants. I think cooperation is the harder of the two, because as we all know, we have to give up control and, well, cooperate with other sometimes unpredictable people--who may have different ideas than we do, about things we really care about. :)

But I think we'll get it, one day, perhaps in the not-too-distant future. They say the Kingdom of God is within us, right now. Maybe we just need to hold hands in order to find it. :)

Blessings on your day!

Looking Godward

Yesterday I slipped into a funk of frustration and discouragement. It's a very busy time--the boys have started back to school; I have three huge work projects with looming deadlines; I have just finished an intensive class (on Constructive Theology, which was wonderful) at ESR and will begin my fall semester classes next week. By the end of the day I felt disempowered and ineffective. I finally just gave up and went to bed. In the middle of the day someplace, I remember thinking, "My biggest problem is that during the day I forget God," but that leading didn't stay with me very well. A few minutes later it was washed away by a fresh wave of email or that growing panicky feeling that I'm falling behind on my writing.

This morning I made sure to take my prayer and meditation time; I wrote in my journal; I did yoga. Yesterday I had skipped those things because of the lure of deadlines. As I reflected on my struggles yesterday in my journal, it was very obvious to me how I hadn't--in spite of the quiet leading I'd gotten during the day--given myself the time to look Godward. I need that time. I need that action. I need to look to God, more than just in the morning and last thing at night. I need to look Godward through my day, remembering the source of my life.

Not long ago I realized something wonderful about my house. The front door is surrounded by beautiful etched glass, and way up in the upper right corner, there is a small sticker that says, "Godward Glass, Indianapolis, Indiana." When I'm feeling really low and in need of divine reconnection, I go look up at that sticker. I remember I am indeed looking Godward (which is also looking within, and appreciating the beauty around me, and waiting for God to touch my spirit). It's a powerful outward act for an inward intention. I hope you give yourself a moment to look Godward today. It's the thing I need most to remember--the breath that gives me life.

Blessings on your day!

A Prayer and a Thought

Sitting with my journal in the early morning sunlight this morning, I felt the summer drawing to a close. School for me--my final year in seminary--begins tomorrow. In two weeks the boys go back to school; football, marching band, regular classes all commence. This morning is a deep reflective and grateful pause before the beginning of the busy--and abundant--harvest time. I looked back through my journal and found the following entry, dated July 1, 2005. I wanted to share it with you.

Truly, O God, I give this day to You as best I can, my Father and maker of All There Is. You O Lord are the center of All, the center of Everything, the Light and Source and Being in which we share. Each blade of grass arises from you; each breeze returns to You, each sound is but a love whisper from Yourself to Yourself. This is truly, my Father's world.

When I become fixated on seeking my own perfection, focus on the Father's perfection.
When I begin to worry about my forgetfulness, remember how God never forgets.
When I worry about my health, lean into God, who cannot be sick.
When I start to thrash against my flaws, consider how Hashem has no flaws.

When I relax, the world is good.
When I am tight, the world is threatening.
When I am hurting, the world is dark.
When I am joyful, the world is bright.
What, then, is the world?
What, then, am I?

Giving the Apple Back

I was talking with a wonderful friend over coffee this morning and the topic turned to the many ways in which we struggle with the idea of control in our lives. The idea that we can control life--if we just try hard enough, do the right things, play by the rules, and get a little bit of luck--seems to have something to do with that original bite of the apple from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Metaphorically I must take bites from a dozen apples every day! The temptation is always there to make the choice myself, to go my own way, rather than stop-look-pray-and-listen for God's leading on a particular decision or event. What I am learning--slowly, gradually--is to ask God about things before I rush off to do them my way. And when I do forget God (and I do more often than I wish I would), I don't run away and cover myself in fig leaves, but come back to God, apple in hand, showing him what I did and asking him to help me remember him first next time.

I wonder what the outcome of the Genesis story would have been if Adam and Eve could have trusted God enough to be honest with him and welcome him into the middle of their imperfections? I think God loves it when we do that. But if we're waiting to be perfect before we invite God in, we'll continue hiding and keeping him out. There's just no un-biting that apple. But we can notice--and be honest with ourselves and with God--when we do it. And that, faithfully done, sooner or later clears away all the blocks in our relationship with God--and maybe even with each other. :)

Looking Up

This morning I was sitting out on the deck watching the ducks at the feeder. The smaller birds, sparrows and finches, were busy at the newly filled feeder, one on each perch. Three ducks stood below them, eagerly gathering the seeds the smaller birds dropped. I noticed that one of the three ducks had learned to look up--to watch the smaller birds and anticipate the falling seeds. It was a curious site, seeing this one duck who had figured out the mystery of the manna falling from the sky. The other two ducks never looked up at all...they didn't seem to care one way or another where the seed was coming from. They were totally focused on eating what was already there.

I found that I identify with the duck looking up...I'm always watching for God, always anticipating the blessing, always considering the source. The other ducks around me don't always understand that, and I guess it can get a bit tiresome if you're hungry. And sometimes I get a crick in my neck. :) But it's something about the way we're made--us odd ducks--and the older I get, the more I like it. :)

Wisdom from Mother Teresa

I'm reading the book There's a Spiritual Solution to Every Problem by Dr. Wayne Dyer right now, and I'm finding a lot in it that is helpful and rings true. He speaks a lot about the need to reconnect with God when the things of the world weigh us down. One section I read gave a series of proverbs given by Mother Teresa...I want to keep them in my heart and mind as I go through the day, and I thought I'd share them with you, too:

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies. Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you. Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone may destroy overnight. Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow. Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough. Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is all between you and God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

Isn't that wonderful? Words to hold on to...peace and blessings on your day! :)

Oh God, Bring Peace

This morning we awake to news of violence against your children in London, O God. What a sad oneness we share with all those who know the sound and face of terror, who wander the streets in shock, who desperately search for loved ones. We can still feel the heat and ash from the terror of 9/11; our bodies have recorded the sounds of the sirens; our minds play, rewind, and play again images from that time. We ask you to enfold in a blanket of tender care and peace all those who have ever been touched by terror, Lord, because wherever in the world your children are attacked, we all hurt as one. Calm our fears and bring peace, we pray. Comfort the families and let them know your presence in a very real way. Sustain those responding to the emergency that their hearts and minds may be protected and kept clear so they know just what to do for your children.

This is not the life you'd planned for us, O God, when you created paradise and set it before us to name and nurture. You wanted to walk with us in true communion, laughing, sharing stories, loving, trusting, experiencing abundant joy and honoring our very lives by enjoying them fully with you. Enfold us all, O God, because we're suffering individually and as a world as our belief in the promise of Goodness and Mercy is shaken yet again. The darkness can cover it, but cannot put it out. Love wins, Lord. Peace reigns. We have your word that even now, in the smoke and tears and heartbreak, the kingdom of God is within us. Take our hands and help us find it, Lord, because just now the aftermath of unthinkable destruction is clouding our eyes.

May God be tenderly present in an unmistakable way with the people of London--and with us all--today.

Amen.

God Doesn't Have Any Grandchildren

Friday morning Cameron and I took Christopher to Interlochen for a six-week long camp in Composition. Interlochen is an amazing and wonderful place, filled with musicians and instructors from all over the world. I feel it is the opportunity of a lifetime (hopefully one of many) for Christopher. But instead of feeling joyful and excited for him, I am walking around like there's a big hole in my heart. My face is sad; I'm irritable; I'm barely listening to people. Last night at dinner people told stories and laughed and I felt like I was in a cloud, hardly able to hear them. I realized as I said goodbye to my mom, when she looked deep into my eyes and said, "You'll be all right," that I was grieving. I am grieving. Life doesn't feel right--my son is eight hours away and beyond my reach. The fact that it's a great blessing doesn't seem to take away the hurt.

I was praying in the shower, apologizing to God for being so ungrateful and grumpy. I asked to know what was causing me such pain. Suddenly a thought flashed in my head: I'm not trusting God with my children. My pain was coming from the side of my rational mind that tells me I'm the one who needs to smooth the way for my children; I keep them safe; I encourage them and calm their anxious moments. If I'm eight hours away, how can I do that? How can I know he's cared for? What happens if he gets scared or hurt or someone's mean to him?

I remembered the phrase "God doesn't have any grandchildren," which means that my son Christopher (and Cameron and Kelly) are all God's children, just as I am God's child. God is with them in the same way God is with me--right now, every moment, in full knowing of what is best for me. God is working to draw them into deeper relationship with Him just the same way He is working in my life. God isn't a generation removed from my children, dispensing grace and love and hope through me. God dispenses His own love and grace directly to each of us, every moment, in every thought and every breath.

I feel a little lighter now, knowing Whose job it really is to keep Christopher safe and fed and happy. It's the One Who Knows the number of hairs on our heads and knows when the smallest sparrow falls. Thank God.

Celebrate!

For the month of June, I've been filling in for the chaplain and running Spirituality groups for the adult and adolescent inpatients. I absolutely love it. I have met so many wondering people and we all talk about the spiritual values we share as humans--love, kindness, honesty, gratitude, acceptance, caring--no matter what our religious affiliations might be. It is a time of coming together in truth, gentleness, and sharing. Healing is happening right before our eyes. It's amazing what God can do when a few of us gather...

I found the following entry in a book called, "The Language of Letting Go," by Melody Beattie. Melody is a wonderful writer who writes about recovery issues (I think she is famous for a book called "Codependent No More," although I haven't read that one yet.) But I found this entry in her book yesterday and it washed over me like a cool drink of water on a hot day...I wanted to share it with you this morning in the hopes that it blesses you, too:

Take time to celebrate. Celebrate your successes, your growth, your accomplishments. Celebrate you and who you are.

For too long you have been hard on yourself. Others have spilled their negative energy--their attitudes, beliefs, pain--on you. It had nothing to do with you! All along, you have been a gift to yourself and to the Universe.

You are a child of God. Beautiful, a delight, a joy. You do not have to try harder, be better, be perfect, or be anything you are not. Your beauty is in you, just as you are in each moment.

Celebrate that.

When you have a success, when you accomplish anything, enjoy it. Pause, reflect, rejoice. Too long you have listened to admonitions not to feel good about what you have done, lest you travel the downward road to arrogance.

Celebration is a high form of praise, of gratitude to the Creator for the beauty of God's creation. To enjoy and celebrate the good does not mean that it will be taken from you. To celebrate is to delight in the gift, to show gratitude.

Celebrate your relationships! Celebrate the lessons from the past and the love and warmth that is there today. Enjoy the beauty of others and their connection to you.

Celebrate all that is in your life. Celebrate all that is good. Celebrate you!

May God help us to open our hearts fully to receive--and celebrate--all the many blessings we are given in this day! Amen. :) k

French Lessons

For some reason, I took eight years of French in school. Four years in elementary/middle school; and four years in high school. My plan was to go to France with my best friend Marie after graduation. But life intervened, and I moved to Muncie to manage a pet store and Marie married a computer programmer from Vietnam. Our freshman year in high school, Marie and I would do silly things like go to Casual Corner at the mall and speak French to each other (badly, I'm sure). The salesperson would come up and ask whether she could help us and Marie would explain that I was her cousin from France and didn't speak a word of English. She would use a horrible French-American accent (which probably sound more like New Orleans than anything) and we would dissolve in laughter after the poor unassuming salesperson walked away, completely convinced we had totally fooled her.

So that's about the extent of my French ability--lots of invested time and study energy for very little gain...a dream that was never realized and an embarrassing memory of how cool I wasn't in high school. :) But this morning, I woke up thinking about the phrase avec pleasure (not sure I spelled that right), but it means, of course "with pleasure." The thought was, when we're doing something, why not do it avec pleasure? Isn't that the essence of joy, of gratitude? What about the phrase, "It's my pleasure," when someone says "thank you." Do we mean it when we say that? I want to. I want to think more about pleasure, enjoyment, life abundant. I think it honors God. And it makes the sun shine brighter.

Hey, maybe French class gave me something after all. :)

One Perfectly Enjoyable Moment

This morning as I was driving along a beautiful road with overhanging trees and filtered sunlight, I thought about what it would feel like to be so in tune with our lives that we experienced perfect enjoyment of even a single moment. Somewhere deep inside I believe that our sacred appreciation of a day, or a moment, or a hug, or an experience honors God in a way a thousand wordy prayers cannot. I have this feeling that if we were able to feel--even for the slightest instant--completely full, completely happy, completely at peace, completely whole--it would be all we would need to fill our lives with divine bliss forever. I'm not going to work too hard to find that sense of enjoyment because I think the effort drives it away...it has to emerge naturally, simply, like a rosebud opening. But I'm going to hold on to the idea that it's possible, that it will dawn on us suddenly like a rainbow in the clouds, grace of the highest order, reflecting God's smile deep within our souls for all eternity.

A Meditation on Success

You, O God, are continually about the business of creation. A bird sings, a sky lightens, a breeze lifts, leaves rustle, a world awakens, fresh and new. I breathe in the sweet world you've given us for yet another day and feel uplifted and renewed; I join with you in celebrating its Goodness. What more than this, O God, do we need for a successful day? To breathe in the wonder and gift of each new person who crosses our path; to embrace and give thanks for the moments--no matter what emotions they carry--that lead us still closer to you. Instead of running out into the world chasing plans and ideas that might ultimately prove Good, perhaps success lies in simply allowing ourselves to shine like the candles we are, burning forth in gratitude and hope, lighting the way for each other while expressing your Divine Principle, your saving grace. We participate in your on-going creation by being the loving beings through which you bring light into the darkness. Help us, O God, to recognize we are a continuing, contributing part of your creation and to relax into the knowing that our attunement with you is the only real success we ever need. Amen.