I'm in Paradise

I went to lunch last week with two wonderful women. One I had known for years, and the other was new to me. As we were getting settled, our server stopped by with water. He made the perfunctory introduction and asked how we were doing. Fine, we said, in the usual response.

Then I asked him how he was doing. He lit up. “I’m in paradise,” he enthusiastically replied. We all stopped mid-menu-opening and looked up. Was he being sarcastic? I couldn’t read his face.

Our expressions must have suggested we needed further explanation, so he continued. “I’m alive and employed.” We must have looked even more doubtful about his sincerity, because he stopped pouring water and looked at us with his full attention. “I mean it,” he said simply, and moved on to other tables.

We three just looked at each other, aware that the universe had just treated us to lunch.

He who knows enough is enough will always have enough. ~Tao Te Ching

related post: Contentment: Priceless

Transformations

And then the day came, 
when the risk
to remain tight 
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to Blossom.
–Anais Nin

I was intrigued by my friend Bob’s recent post at Satisfying Retirement about life before and after retirement. He described himself before retirement as angry, ambitious, and unfulfilled. Now retired, he describes himself as calm, content, and fulfilled.

Is retirement the secret to finding your happy place? Hmm, I don’t think so. There are plenty of people who live in joy while still working, and there are plenty of folks who are not happy in retirement. And even if retirement does improve our circumstances, studies show that our external circumstances account for only 10% of our happiness. Happiness, as the saying goes, is definitely an inside job.

Deep life transformation doesn’t just happen. Something has to motivate us to change. Something has to help us do it. And something has to help us sustain it.

For me, the motivation was a health crisis. I realized that I could not continue with my then current “norm” of chronic stress and anxiety and fear. So I set out to change.

I got help from a variety of sources. I got serious in therapy. I went to an energy healer. I consulted spiritual counselors. I had what I call the “year of the workbook.” I did workbooks on anger, fear, and more I can’t even remember. I began working out and eventually got involved with martial arts. I read inspirational wisdom teachings. I spent more time in nature. And I began a meditation practice.

The 10 Steps that I write about represent habits that I developed during that time. They helped me change, and now they help me sustain the change. They are woven into my daily life and permeate the way I see myself, and how I view the world and interact with it. They have become a way of life for me.

Bob’s post prompted me to ask him about his own transformation, and I look forward to his future post about it. And it made me realize that many of us have transformation stories. Others of us want to have them!

I would like to open a forum in the comments for sharing these stories. What has motivated you to change, what helped you change, and what helps you sustain the transformation? Perhaps you have already written this story on your blog, in which case, feel free to include a link in your comment to your blog post. Or perhaps this post will prompt you to write such a post, in which case your comment might be the “outline” of the post you write soon.

We can all learn from and inspire and encourage each other, so I hope you will join the discussion.

The Water Is for Everyone

For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. ~Matthew 5:45

A friend swims several times a week, not only for exercise but also as a time of meditation. She told me that recently while swimming and meditating on her blessings, she became aware of the other people in the pool. All of them were in the water together. She realized, she exclaimed, that “the water is for everyone.”

Simple...and profound. All of them in the same pool of water, there for their own reasons, thinking their own thoughts, yet connected to each other by the liquid that surrounded them all and held them up.

Like the air we breathe and the ground we walk on. There for all of us. So generous.

I thought further about the people swimming together in the pool. Maybe strangers to each other yet in relationship. Each swimmer mindful of where others are nearby. Each movement creating currents through the water, interacting with the currents created by others. There is no such thing as an isolated action with no impact. The dance of life.

We are not islands, and the bell tolls for thee and me alike, calling us not to death, but to life, together, to the love that surrounds us all and lifts us up, like water.

Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another. ~Thomas Merton

related posts: So Generous; Mushroom Experience; There Is No Them

Trillium Thrills

Our task must be to free ourselves... by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and it's beauty. ~Albert Einstein

I went up to my cabin for the day yesterday. The weather was gorgeous and it seemed like a good day for a walk in the woods.

One of my favorite things about spring in the Pacific Northwest is the trillium. The blossoms dot the forest floor. When they open, the flowers are brilliant white. Then, as they mature and wilt, they gradually turn from white to lavender to deep purple.

Even though they are hardy enough to continue blooming during late snows, the plants are fragile if disturbed. If you pick the flower, the plant can take years to recover before blooming again. They are meant to be savored in place.

To me, the flowers are beautiful teachers. Here are some of their quiet lessons.

Be present. You can’t take the flowers with you, so enjoy them in the moment.

Non-attachment. Trying to grasp their beauty by picking the flowers destroys them.

Generosity. The flowers grace the forest with loveliness, freely and generously for all to see.

Gratitude. Seeing the trillium every spring fills me with gratitude for the bounty of nature’s gifts.

Delight. Walking becomes a treasure hunt for beauty, watching for the white blossoms and thrilling at each discovery.

The flowers even helped me be a better teacher! The law school where I taught is nestled in the forest on the edge of a state park. You can walk right out of the school and into the woods, along miles of trails. The lush setting of the school draws students from all over the world.

Early spring is a tough time for first year law students. They have gotten their grades from first semester, and since 90% of them are not in the top 10% of the class, there is some inevitable let down. They are also gearing up for the stressful scramble for their first summer jobs as law clerks.

One sunny spring day, I paused before starting class. The tension in the room was palpable. The normal pre-class banter was absent. The students’ faces were grim. Instead of launching into the planned discussion on anticipatory repudiation, I closed my book and instructed the students to follow me.

We went to my office where they could leave their belongings secured, and we went on a trillium hunt in the park. I figured since many of them had come to this school for the environmental law program, they should at least get out now and then to enjoy the environment! When those students graduated a few years later, they told me that one of their most memorable moments in law school was the shock of having a professor tell them to have some fun. It’s one of my fondest memories, too.

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. ~Rachel Carson

related posts: Fun Is Good; Breezes at Dawn

Benefits of Being a Spoiled Child

Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap...and yet God feeds them. ...Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. ~Luke 12:24, 27

I was, by most anyone’s standards, a spoiled child. This is no bad reflection on my parents, whom I deeply appreciate. I just don’t think they were prepared for me. My older sister was an easy child compared to me. When I came along, they probably assumed I would follow her lead.

I didn’t. I had colic, for starters. To say I was a picky eater is an understatement. I basically ate three things and refused anything else. (Miraculously, I was a very healthy kid, so it must have been all the milk I drank.) I didn’t have any chores or responsibilities at home. I had everything I asked for and more. If I didn’t get my way, I threw a tantrum. I’m told that I behaved well in public, but at home I was unruly and disrespectful. It’s no wonder that my sister wanted to sell me to the gypsies, and it speaks to her tolerance and virtue that she didn’t.

Although I raised my children differently, I’m not here to debate parenting practices. I’m here to reflect on some things I learned from my childhood.

I learned that, as Art Buchwald said, “the best things in life aren’t things.” As it turns out, money really doesn’t buy happiness, or friendship, or self-respect, or love. I’ve never won the lottery, and I would be delighted if I did, but I already know that more is not always better.

The Tao Te Ching teaches, “He who knows enough is enough will always have enough.” I learned that if I can’t be content with what I have, I will not be content with more. Beyond my basic needs, everything else is a bonus.

I learned that the world does not bend to my will and that tantrums won’t change that. Serenity comes from accepting the things I cannot change, not from railing against them.

I learned that true wealth lies in the connection I have with others. In my self-absorbed youth, I was not always a good friend, a good daughter, a good sibling. I regret some of the choices I made that hurt people who cared about me. I’ve tried to do better.

I learned that giving and gratitude are both better than grasping, whether it is grasping things or people or circumstances.

I learned that like the ravens my needs will be met. True, putting a roof over my head and food on the table requires some sowing and reaping on my part. But the love that feeds my spirit is freely and abundantly supplied.

I learned that like the lilies I am indeed arrayed like royalty. Without any effort on my part, I have been clothed with this precious human life, in a body complete with lungs that breathe, a heart that beats, eyes that see, and arms to hold with.

I’m not advocating spoiling as a child rearing philosophy. It was hard on me, and I’m quite sure it was even harder on my family. But those were priceless lessons and I think I’m better for having learned them.

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. ~Psalm 32:8

related posts: So Generous; Back; Be Glad In It

Get Over It!

This was the startlingly blunt message of Joel Osteen’s sermon on TV this morning. Yes, it’s true. I occasionally watch a TV preacher. Well, this TV preacher. The others, ummm....

Anyway, this was one of the best messages, in a sermon or anywhere else, that I’ve ever heard. And it was meant just...for...me. You see, just before I tuned in, I was driving myself crazy with something that has been eating at me for several days, a recent conversation that I kept poking at like a sore tooth. I kept thinking about one thing in particular that the other person said that had just hit me the wrong way. I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let it go even though I am enlightened (cough, cough) enough to know that this was not serving me.

I tried to shift my perspective. I read inspirational passages in A Course in Miracles, the Bhagavad-gita, other blogs, the Bible. But the inspiration sparked and then fizzled like a damp match.

When I woke up this morning and started rehashing the conversation even before my eyes were open, I put my hands on my head and said out loud to no one in particular, “Please help me stop this!” Before I knew it, I picked up the remote (not something I would normally do) and turned on the TV just as Joel was starting his sermon. The first words I heard were “Get over it.”

Oh. Just like that? Yeah, pretty much.

Joel told the story of Joseph from the Bible. Joseph had lots of brothers. They were jealous of him and decided to get rid of him by selling him into slavery. Taken to Egypt, Joseph served his master faithfully and prospered, eventually being elevated to a position second only to Pharaoh. When famine in his homeland drove his brothers into Egypt seeking food, Joseph found himself in a position of authority over the siblings who had wished him only harm. He forgave them, saying, “You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good.”

Nothing happens to you, Joel assured his audience. It happens for you. “God wasn’t having a bad day when he made you.” As the Bible says, we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

So, got laid off? Relationship ended? Betrayed by a friend? Had a bad childhood? Business failed? Someone say something that irritated the heck out of you, like what happened to me? Yes, life can deal us some blows. But, as Joel said, we can be pitiful or powerful. We can choose to be a victim or trust that whatever happened can lead us to our greatest destiny.

Still not sure? Watch this video about a man born without arms and legs. If I was still holding on to a smidgen of bitterness about being wronged, this took care of it.

I got over it.

related posts: Mirror, Mirror on the Wall; So Generous; Calling for Love

Being a Blessing

I will bless you..., and you will be a blessing. ~Genesis 12:2

When my kids were growing up, they all had chores. Even my sons had chores; autism was no excuse not to share in the responsibility for the family. Besides, as a single mom with five kids, this wasn’t just a matter of character building; it was a matter of necessity. The chores got done, but not always well, and not always with a good attitude.

One day we returned from the grocery store with a carload of groceries. I pulled into the driveway, got out of the car, and began to walk into the house. The kids opened the back of the car and started carrying bags. My daughter called to me, “Aren’t you going to help carry?”

“No,” I replied. “That’s your job.”

“What’s your job?” she retorted.

“My job is to go to work, so that we have money to buy the groceries. Your job is to carry them into the house and put them away.” She snorted her protest but said nothing else as she joined her siblings in the task.

A few days ago, this same daughter took time out of her busy work and parenting schedule to come over to my house on her own initiative and help me clean. She knew that my back was bothering me. When I tried to help, she told me to relax; she would do it all. Even so, I did the light cleaning so that we could get it done more quickly. As we worked, we chatted and enjoyed each other’s company.

When we were done, I surveyed my sparkling house and reflected on the pleasant time we spent together. I thanked her, not only for her assistance, but also for her gracious attitude. She responded matter-of-factly with a smile, “You do so much for me. I’m happy to do something for you.”

And that, of course, meant more to me than all the clean counters and vacuumed floors. She is indeed a blessing.

Life is short, and we have but little time to gladden the hearts of those who travel this way with us. Oh, be swift to love. Make haste to be kind. ~Henri-Frederic Amiel

related posts: Speaking the Blessing; The Kindness Game

Gratitude Within Reach

No man is an island. ~John Donne

I was feeling irritable this morning. No particular reason. Just out of sorts. “Gritchy.” My spirit felt heavy. I read some inspirational stuff, but nothing was really shaking loose the dark cloud weighing down my shoulders. So I looked around.

I decided to be grateful for whatever I could touch within arm’s reach without moving from where I sat. If I were to do it right now, this would be my list: my computer, the table, the chair, a cup of hot tea, the coaster the cup is sitting on, my calendar, a pad of sticky notes, a lot of sticky notes with ideas written on them stuck on the computer and the table, a pen and pencil, a letter opener, my clothes, my glasses, some books, my body.

Then I decided to take one of these items and extend the gratitude. Let’s take the coaster, for example. I’m grateful for the coaster, for the people who work in the store where I bought the set it came from, for the people who designed it, for the cotton it is made of, for the people who grew and processed the cotton, for the people who manufactured the coaster, for the people who transported it and the vehicles they used, for the money I had to buy it,...

You can see that this could go on indefinitely. I could have expanded my gratitude just in the category of the cotton, for example, by thinking about the farmers, the equipment, the fertilizer, the water, and so on.

Whew!

By the end of this little exercise, I was astounded by how many people and things were connected to just the few items that are within arm’s reach. No kidding that no man is an island. It is humbling to consider how many hands have touched most anything I can look at around me, how many people have contributed to my comfort and well being.

The dark cloud lifted. I felt calmer and quiet inside. I just sat there breathing in the energy of all those hands, breathing out my gratitude.

Want to give it a try? It just takes a minute. If you like, please share your gratitude within reach experience in a comment.

In daily life we must see that it is not happiness that makes us grateful, but gratefulness that makes us happy. ~David Steinal-Rast

related posts: I’m Grateful for That!; An Ordinary Day

Breezes at Dawn

The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you; don’t go back to sleep. ~Rumi

Dawn’s first faint gleam this morning found me up and dressed with nowhere to go. I thought about going back to bed, about reading, about getting online. Instead, something drew me outside. So I put on my coat and went for a walk.

An occasional car, a jogger or dog walker here and there, a light on in a few houses. We few quietly shared the magic of the hour while most slept. The birds called the light to come. My soul thrilled.

A daffodil invited me to lean over. The fragrance of spring stirred the still chilly air. The eastern sky slowly brightened. Shades of gray blossomed into color. A new day – so pure, so fresh, so full of mystery and promise.

How can a day that begins thus not be blessed?

i thank you God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
~e.e. cummings

related posts: Show Me the Miracles; Wow

My Best Friend...Again

It has been almost two years. Two years in which a lot has happened. I retired, had two grandchildren, and published a book. Two years missed. A friendship grieved.

A friendship that began almost forty years ago. We were so young then. Our friendship spanned decades, decades full of the evolution of our lives, decades that we shared with each other. There was absolutely nothing that I could not tell her, nothing that I did not tell her.

Distance didn’t matter. I moved to countries far away, in the days before email and Skype. We wrote letters the old fashioned way, and when I came back to visit, we picked up where we left off. There was never a time when she was not my best friend.

Then it changed, so gradually that it was several years before I really noticed. Phone calls not answered or returned. Conversations leaving me feeling that something was off, but not sure what it was. I finally told myself that whatever we had was gone, and I tried to let go. But I missed her.

Then yesterday I read a post on Vishnu’s Virtues about friendship, old friendships, about treasuring them. And I thought of her. What would it hurt to call? Maybe nothing would happen, but maybe....

She answered. It was a surprise to both of us. It was a little awkward, but not for long. We found our way back to each other. We cried. We caught up. We regretted the time lost, all the things we didn’t know about each other now. We spoke of what we meant to each other.

She is going to come visit me this summer. My best friend...again.

Thank you, Vishnu, for being my friendship angel.

related posts: Angels Among Us; Forgiveness Sometimes Just Happens

Angels Among Us

All God's angels come to us disguised.  ~James Russell Lowell

Someone near and dear to me was in a car accident a few days ago. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but there was significant damage to both cars. The woman who was driving the car my young friend hit was so incredibly gracious that when he told me this story, I thought that she must be an angel.

The accident was clearly my friend’s fault, as he immediately acknowledged. The driver of the other car, who was on her way to work, could justifiably have been annoyed and even angry. Many of us, after being surprised and shaken by such an accident, might have reacted with fear and blame. At the least, she was greatly inconvenienced by being late to work, and then having to deal with getting her car repaired.

But instead, she reacted with compassion and reassurance to my friend, who was shaken himself and desperately apologetic. She even hugged him after they exchanged information and before they parted.

Would I have such composure and grace in that situation? I’d like to think so. She has modeled for me the way I would want to act.

Accidents happen. I’m sure my friend will be an even more careful driver now. But the biggest lesson, I think, is about how we treat each other. The other driver taught us all that no matter the circumstances, we always have a choice about how we react. Her generous spirit will shine on in our lives for a long time to come.

You never know when you are going to meet an angel. I feel blessed.

Life is short, and we have little time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us. Oh be swift to love. Make haste to be kind. ~Henri Frederic Amiel

related posts: A Shining Moment in the Darkness; The Kindness of Strangers

The Circle with No Exit

No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it. ~Albert Einstein

I’ve been stuck for months in a thinking pattern about a certain situation in my family. When I think about it, I get upset. When I get upset, I want to “fix” the situation so that I won’t be upset. Fixing the situation involves getting the other people in this situation to behave in a different way, meaning, of course, the way I think best. If they would behave differently, then there wouldn’t be a problem and I wouldn’t be upset. It’s so simple.

As you can imagine, I’m not having much success with this approach. I know that, and yet I repeatedly return to it. It’s so easy and fall into that familiar pattern of making my own happiness and peace of mind dependent on someone or something else. I have to repeatedly remind myself that my well being is my own responsibility and is based on my own thoughts. When I remember this, then for a few moments I feel serene. Until I start to feel resentment towards the others for “making” me have to remind my self of this over and over. Sigh.

As my tai chi teacher observed, it’s a circle with no exit. As long as I am in that plane of consciousness, there will be attack and defense, gain and loss, us and them, winning and losing. And at the root of all of those...fear.

How do I get out of this circle? Ah, perhaps the solution is in the question. I can’t get out of the circle by searching the circumference for an opening. There is none. In accepting the reality of the circle, I’m accepting my confinement within it.

But what if I render the circle meaningless by shifting to a different plane, one where there is no us versus them, where this and the other dualities no longer exist? Where fear transforms from arrows into flowers like the evils hurled by Mara at the enlightened Buddha?

On this plane, the other people in my family situation are not sources of anger or frustration or anxiety. They are angels sent to me, leading me to my meditation cushion instead of my soapbox, opening my heart with compassion instead of closing it with judgment, teaching me to trust the basic goodness of the universe instead of my futile efforts to control it. And instead of feeling resentment, I am humbly grateful.

Here, there are no circles.

related posts: No One Wins in Court; On the Razor’s Edge

My Favorite Day

I saw this cartoon on Tess Marshall’s Facebook page recently. I immediately thought of two things.

First is the funny email that circulates every year or so about a dog’s diary and a cat’s diary. I’ll just include the dog’s diary here.

From a  Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!                        
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm -  Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Anyone who has a dog or knows a dog will appreciate this!

The second thing I thought of was my daughter Mia. When she was little, she was the most exuberant sprite on the planet. Everything was her favorite thing. Every day she would ask me what I was making for dinner, and when I answered her, she would invariably exclaim, “That’s my favorite food!” This was true even if I was making something I was sure she had never tasted before.

Many of us were like this as kids. But somewhere along the way, we stopped embracing life. We became teenagers. When Mia and her sister were teens, they would look at each other and roll their eyes or make a face when I told them what I was making for dinner. Finally, one day, feeling especially unappreciated and a bit cranky, I responded to their inquiry about what I was making for dinner by saying, “We’re having whatever y’all are making. Please let me know when dinner is ready. I’ll be in my room.”

They thought I was kidding, but when I walked off and settled into my favorite chair with a book, they knew the jig was up. I don’t remember what we had for dinner that night, but I remember telling them how much I appreciated their cooking and how good the food was. And from then on, the kids (the guys, too) were responsible for dinner on certain nights. And we all learned, or rather re-learned, to welcome the gifts that life brings us.

Seeing this Pooh cartoon brought back sweet memories of raising my children, all the more poignant as I am learning to embrace my empty nest. Which is, I must admit, quickly becoming my favorite thing!

related post: Wow; It's a Dog's Life

Newly Bright

So when you feel all the endings coming...begin looking for all the beginnings.  –Ann Voskamp

I have a painting titled "For today, newly bright." Each day is new, and each year is new. True, it is an artificial delineation, but still a chance to begin again. This morning I will go up to my cabin in the mountains to spend the last days of the year reflecting on the year that is ending and anticipating the year about to begin.

I look forward to my New Year's Eve ritual.  I build a fire in the fireplace.  In the last hours of the year, I write a letter to the old year. I reflect on the year, on what I learned and experienced, on the themes of the year, on what I think I will remember.  I thank the year for all the blessings it has brought.

Then I write a letter to the new year.  I welcome the new year and share my hopes and intentions.  I invite the new year in like a new friend, curious, eager to get acquainted, excited about possibilities.

I hold both letters as I say a prayer, once more thanking the departing year and welcoming the new year.  Then I burn both letters in the fireplace as an offering.

In the final minutes of New Year's Eve, I pick a word for the following year.  It is always a verb. It is not a resolution.  My word is a focus word, a gentle reminder, a guide. I write the word on little cards that I place where my gaze is sure to light – by my computer, the bathroom mirror, the car dash.  Throughout the year, my word is there, wherever I look.  As the months go by, it becomes a part of me.

How do I choose my word?  Sometimes I am pretty sure I know before New Year's Eve, but more often I don't.  As the year comes to a close, I open my mind and heart.  The word comes to me, like a whisper in my soul.

My word for 2012 has been "Shine.” The word itself has been a beacon to me, guiding me always towards the light, encouraging me during some dark times, reminding me that the light is always shining in me and all around me. In some very tangible ways, my word sustained me during the months of getting my book ready to publish. And in some very personal ways, my word helped me right myself when I stumbled over fear.

It is a word of faith, of hope, of joy, of promise, of transcendence. And it is a word of forgiveness and acceptance and love. As noted in the Bible and other wisdom teachings, the sun shines on the wicked and the righteous without distinction. So generous.

I’m grateful for my word this year, and I’m eager to find out what my 2013 word will be.  When I get back from the cabin on the 1st, I’ll write a post and let you know.  If you pick a word for yourself, I hope you’ll share it, too.

As part of my thanks to the departing year, I would like to say thank you to you.  I started this blog in February 2010, not at all sure what I was doing (still don’t know), and with no idea where it would lead (still don’t know that either).  But I do know this.  I have been so deeply touched and humbled by the support and encouragement I’ve gotten from so many people.  Through you and your blogs, I have received so much wisdom, inspiration, challenge, information, and lots of great fun.  And as we all know, fun is good.  (As the Cat in the Hat said, “It is fun to have fun!”)  I am so blessed to be part of this network of people.  You are such a gift.  Thank you.

Best wishes for a blessed end of 2012, and a new beginning with unlimited possibilities in 2013.

[One of my favorite things about the cabin is that I am away from phone, cable, and internet, so I will be “unplugged” from today until I return on Tuesday.  I hope you know by now that your comments are valuable and valued. Because I use comment moderation to monitor spam, there is a delay in the appearance of your comments, for which I apologize. Don’t let that stop you!  Please leave a comment, and it will magically appear New Year’s Day as soon as I get back.]

On the Razor's Edge

Sometimes the darkest challenges, the most difficult lessons, hold the greatest gems of light.  –Barbara Marciniak

As the year comes to a close, with all its attendant reflections, the image of 2012 that keeps coming to my mind is the razor’s edge. It is not a place of comfort. It’s not a good place to take a nap. When we are there, we usually want to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Instead, we find ourselves face to face with fear...and opportunity.

This is where we practice, where we have an opportunity to grow, to deepen, to awaken. When things are as we wish, we can relax and enjoy. But when challenges arise, we must respond. Walking on the razor’s edge requires alertness, balance, openness, care, courage.

Seems like I have spent a significant amount of time this year on the razor’s edge. Fears that I thought were long laid to rest have burbled up from the abyss. Circumstances have thrown me into familiar dilemmas, challenging me to choose, over and over, whether to react with anger, anxiety, and futile efforts to control, or to breathe myself open, to wait, to offer compassion, to have faith.

Where, in the past, I often chose fear, life has been gently saying to me this year, “Choose again.” And for the most part, I have chosen differently. It’s hard sometimes. That’s why we speak in terms of practicing kindness, practicing compassion, practicing forgiveness.

2012 has given my plenty of opportunities to practice all of these. Although I have had a few whiny “why me” moments, I find myself reflecting on the year with profound gratitude, a humble confidence, a sustaining faith, and a peace that indeed passes all understanding.

Is there an image or phrase that captures the essence of 2012 for you?

related posts: Embrace the Tiger; The Dance of Fear

Jolly Molly? No Thanks!

Underneath the hardness there is fear
Underneath the fear there is sadness
In the sadness there is softness
In the softness is the vast blue sky
–unknown

My daughter Mia attended a birthday party when she was four.  The party’s main attraction was Jolly Molly, a popular local clown who was a big hit with the preschool set.  When Mia arrived, Jolly Molly opened her arms wide and greeted her.  Mia took one look and ran shrieking from the room.

Sometimes I feel that way about Christmas.  The store decorations go up at Halloween.  Elf commercials start airing. Christmas music is everywhere.  Shoppers battle in the wee hours of Black Friday.  Everything is so manically festive.  Some people love it.  Like the young partygoers who were clustered around Jolly Molly clamoring for her attention, many people’s spirits sing with the season.  And that’s wonderful.

For me, it’s often just too much.  I tend to stay away from the stores.  I look forward to going to friends’ homes for celebrations.  I enjoy Christmas, but in a quiet way.

For others, it is a time of feeling alienated, overwhelmed, sad, anxious, lonely, even angry.  I’ve started noticing blog posts about the dark shadows of Christmas.  There is grief over loved ones who are no longer here, sad memories of Christmases past, isolation in the present, financial anxiety, bitter struggles with family.  Sometimes, it’s too much to bear.

Yesterday, a man ran into the very mall where my children were shopping on Sunday, and started shooting, killing two people and injuring a third before shooting himself.  I don’t know anything about this man and whether his tragic outburst was at all related to the Christmas frenzy, but I know he must have been in a lot of pain.  His attack in a popular mall during a time of holiday shopping is like the two trains of Christmas crashing into each other.

Marlo Thomas, who has continued her dad’s support of St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, ends her commercials with “Give thanks for the healthy children in your life, and give generously to those who are not.”  That seems like a balanced approach. We can be grateful for our blessings and at the same time offer compassion to those in pain, including ourselves.  Our hearts are big enough to hold all these feelings.

Chogyam Trungpa teaches that joy comes from the gentle heart of sadness.  When we can break through the hardness of absolutes and move through our fear of uncertainty, we find ourselves in the sea of sadness.  All the suffering of the world is there.  We might want to escape.  Fear might lure us back to the “safety” of our hard defenses.

But if we can find the courage to stay, to yield, we can sink into the softness of our tender, open heart.  With our heart thus exposed and vulnerable, we  we are connected to the deep heart of all hearts.  And isn’t that what Christmas is really all about?

The heart that breaks open can contain the whole universe.  –Joanna Macy

Looking Back, Looking Ahead, and Thank You

Whoa, where did 2012 go?  December got here while I was still basking in the glow of a wonderful Thanksgiving, and now the holidays are upon us as well as the end of the year.  Someone pushed the fast forward button in October.

Many people rev up at the end of the year.  Things get hectic.  Stress levels rise.  I’m not immune to that, but overall, I like to slow down.  The increasing darkness (in the northern hemisphere) draws me inside, literally and figuratively.  The end of the calendar year is an artificial demarcation, but it’s a good time to look back...and forward.

One thing I’ve been thinking about is my blog.  I started this blog in February 2010.  For the first year, I posted randomly about the 10 Steps.  Beginning in January 2011, I focused on one step per month, with the idea that this would encourage the development and reinforcement of the habits associated with each step.  Highlighting one of the 10 Steps each month took me through October of last year.  After that, I reverted to posting randomly about the steps which I continued to do through this year.

This year also birthed my book about the 10 Steps, which was released in October.  I’m pleased that it has been well received and continues to help me raise money for Edwards Center, the nonprofit to which I’ve pledged all the proceeds from the book. (You can find out more about the book by clicking on the link at the top of the right margin.)

So what’s next?  One thing I’ve been thinking about is doing more with my FB page (which you can visit and “like” by clicking on the FB link in the right margin, or just click here).  Beginning in January, I’m thinking of launching a short daily FB post with the theme “Living in Your Happy Place Every Day.”  Posts might include quotes, links, video clips, suggested daily practices, and whatever else catches my attention.  The point is to remind us on a daily basis to open our spirits to joy.

Which brings me back to the blog and a request to you to offer any suggestions or feedback you might have.  As you have probably figured out by now, I’m pretty low tech, so don’t be looking for fancy tech changes.  I guess what I’m asking you is to give me some feedback about what brings you here, and, if you are a regular reader, what keeps you coming back.  Are there things you would like me to do differently?  Topics you would like addressed?  Something I’m missing?  How can I support you better in developing habits to grow a joyful spirit, to find and stay in your happy place?

Okay, my turn to give you some feedback.  One of the things I love about writing the blog is the wide range of connections I’ve made through it.  I now have blog friends all over the world.  I am so grateful that people of different nationalities, cultures, faiths, opinions, hemispheres, experiences, ages, lifestyles, ethnicities, can all meet here to share our thoughts and stories.  I’ve read on other blogs about problems with people be hateful or hurtful in some way.  How lucky I am that given the amazing diversity of readers on this blog, I have had next to zero issues like that.  The fact that we come here from such different backgrounds and yet can all listen and speak with deep respect and honor to each other is a marvel I don’t take for granted.

What’s even more marvelous is that my blog is not unique in this respect.  Not at all.  On the contrary, I visit many blogs where people come to the table with openness and eagerness to hear each other, to learn from each other, to support each other.  Isn’t that amazing?  I just shake my head in humble wonder.

So whether you are here for the first time or you’ve been here many times before, I thank you for the blessings you bring here with your presence.  And I look forward to seeing what the next year brings for all of us.  Thank you so much.

Who's the Turkey?

This post about my first Thanksgiving in Thailand is becoming its own tradition.  I love this story because it reminds me how grateful I am that I got to spend three years living and working in this fascinating country.  So here it is again.

I had the good fortune to live and work in Bangkok many years ago.  I was the only American in my office, and of course Thanksgiving is not a Thai holiday, so when Thanksgiving came, I took the afternoon off to go have dinner with other Americans.

That morning at the office, I was chatting with some colleagues.  In an attempt to bridge cultures, I joked, “Even though this is an American holiday, we can all take a moment to think about all the things we have to be grateful for.  For example, you can be thankful that the pilgrims didn’t land in Thailand!”

Everyone laughed politely and I was congratulating myself on the success of my cross-cultural humor, when several people asked at once, “What’s a pilgrim?”

I knew then I had a lot to learn!

No matter where you are in the world, count your blessings and Happy Thanksgiving!

It Was the Best of Times. It Was the Worst of Times.

Which is it?  Depends on who’s talking.  Half the U.S. is jubilant today.  The other half is devastated.  Some of the disappointed voters even threaten to move to Canada, where, ironically, they will find same sex marriage, a single payer national healthcare system, and abortion on demand.  I’m just sayin’....

Our planet is in great trouble and if we keep carrying old grudges and do not work together, we will all die.  –Chief Seattle

The truth is that it doesn’t really matter who won the presidential election yesterday, unless we can quit demonizing those who don’t agree with us and work together.

Picture two enemies in a canoe arguing about the best technique for paddling, or even trying to knock the paddles out of each other’s hands, as the canoe is swept downstream towards a waterfall.  That’s what our polarized partisanship reminds me of.

Don’t fight a battle if you won’t gain anything by winning.  –General Patton

Yesterday’s win will be a hollow victory if the real danger to America is not addressed.  The real danger is not the deficit or terrorists.  The real danger is our refusal to see that we rise or fall together.  When Hurricane Sandy laid waste to the East Coast, first responders did not ask a victim’s party affiliation before offering help, and victims did not vet their saviors for political correctness.

Years ago, when two of my daughters were gridlocked in bitter hostility, I, in desperation, offered to pay them each a dollar a day to get along.  I didn’t care anymore if they liked each other, or if their overtures were sincere.  I cared that the fighting stop.  Here was the catch: they would have to earn the dollars as a team.  They either both got the dollars or neither did.  I was the decider, and there was no appeal.

The amazing thing was that although their initial efforts were only superficially civil, the pattern was broken, and it wasn’t long before they really were working together toward a common goal.  Did disagreements still arise?  Of course.  But they quickly shifted to cooperative solution mode rather than getting all churned up in their previous blame/attack mode.

Again, I’m just sayin’....

We have seen the enemy and he is us.  –Pogo

There is nothing like watching the election returns with a friend who comes from a communist country to put things in perspective.  As I spent the evening trying to explain what was happening to someone for whom the whole concept of voting is unfamiliar, I could see the process from an outside perspective.

True, in her country there are not billions of dollars spent on campaigns, and government policies can change without endless debate and years of court challenges.  But as I listened to her amazement that people could voice their opinions so freely, and her disbelief that those numbers on the screen represented individual votes that were actually being counted, I felt blessed.

People with clenched fists cannot shake hands.  –Indira Gandhi

Maybe you feel blessed, too.  So I invite us all to consider how we participate in and how respond to our electoral process.  Although our system is based on a win/lose model, no one really wins unless we all win.  Instead of all the vitriol and gloating, I invite us all to find someone who voted for “the other guy” and extend an open hand.  More important, I invite us all to extend an open mind.

From this house, to the world, we will go, hand in hand.  The way of peace, the way of freedom, the way of hope, from this house, to the world we will go, hand in hand.  –Ben Allaway

[Note to my friends from other countries: I try to write about things that will be of universal appeal.  This post is clearly about the U.S. presidential election, but I hope that there is something here that you might find relevant on a broader scale.  Thanks for reading.]

related posts: Righteous Unforgiveness; There Is No Them

The Legacy of a Name

I often get questioned about my pen name, Galen Pearl.  Galen was my dad’s middle name, and he was called by the shorter version, Gale.  Galen comes from a Greek word meaning calm or tranquil.  I like that.  My mother’s middle name was not Pearl, but it was another gemstone.  However, she was not fond of her middle name, so I chose another precious gem.

Before I became a parent, I fantasized about having a daughter and naming her Galen Pearl.  However, three daughters later, the name, which wasn’t suitable for any of them for various reasons, remained unused.  My youngest daughter, who came the closest to bearing this name, is grateful.  When she would express her huge relief at not being named Galen Pearl, I would tease her by saying, “It’s not too late.  We can go down to the courthouse and change it.”  “Nooooo!” she would wail.

When I started this blog over two years ago, I was concerned about privacy, especially for my kids.  I did not have much experience online (I’m still woefully behind in tech knowledge), so I decided to use a pen name.  I thought and thought.  And then like a flash, I remembered the name I had loved for so long.  It was never meant to be my daughter’s name.  It was meant to be mine.  And so Galen Pearl was finally born.

As time went on and I unexpectedly gained some name recognition, I wondered if I had done the right thing.  When I published some stories, I had to decide whether to stick with the pen name or switch to my real name, which I also love.  By then, however, the pen name had taken root in my own psyche as well as in cyberspace, and so I stuck with it.

I’m glad I did.  Today would have been my dad’s 100th birthday.  I miss him.  He died thirty years ago, before any of us ever heard of a blog, before I fantasized about a daughter named Galen Pearl.  He never met any of my children, never saw the house I raised them in, never read anything I wrote.  Using his name connects me to his memory, to him.

So, thanks, Dad.  I hope I do your name proud.

 There be of them, that have left a name behind them.... –Apocrypha, Ecclesiasticus 44:8-9