Animal Wisdom

I asked once in a blog post about what animal you would be if you were an animal. [I would be a wolf.] But today, I’d like to raise a different kind of animal question.

Is there an animal that has some special significance to you? For me, the praying mantis has caught my attention this year. As some of you know, my word of the year is Wait. I had not thought of this word in connection to an animal, but the image of a praying mantis kept popping up here and there, so I started looking a little closer.

The mantis is described as an ambush predator because it gets its food mainly by being still and waiting for something to come close enough for it to attack quickly and seize its prey. Patience is key.

Beyond the obvious connection to waiting, the mantis symbolizes stillness and inner peace, insight and divine wisdom. It is the sacred symbol of God to the African Bushmen, or San people.

So these days I have a little glass praying mantis sitting with me as I meditate. It is a reminder to be patient, alert in the stillness, waiting until it is time to act.

What about you? Any special animal speaking to your spirit these days?

Do Not Enter Fear

Don’t push the river; it flows by itself. ~Fritz Perls

Do you ever feel like the universe is sending you a message? Like everywhere you turn you are running into the same words, or image, or experience?

For me lately, the message has been clear: Do not interfere.

This is a repeated theme in A Course in Miracles, in those exact words. I’ve also run across the same message in various wisdom teachings like the Bible, the Tao Te Ching, writings by Christian mystics, the Bhagavad-gita, and more.

The connection to my word of the year – Wait – seems obvious.

Okay, Universe, I hear you!

But it’s not that easy, is it? Even when we know that interfering is not the best course of action, we still feel compelled to do it. We rationalize it in all kinds of ways. Oh, I’m just helping things along. It’s for his own good. If I don’t do it, it won’t get done. I’m only trying to keep this from getting worse. I’m being a good friend [parent, spouse, coworker, child]. I’m sure I’ve used all of these reasons at one time or another. I still do!

But isn’t it true that sometimes we do need to act, sometimes on someone else’s behalf? Sure. So how do I tell the difference between interfering and acting appropriately? When is it, using the term from Buddhism, “right action”?

The answer is in the words: Do not interfere. If you say it out loud, it sounds like “Do not enter fear.” Do not interfere. Do not enter fear. Oohhhh.

If I act because I am anxious, because I am uncomfortable, because I want to escape my agitation, because I am spinning out dire scenarios, because I want, as the airline commercial says, to get away, then my actions are really about me, about my fear and my desire to feel safe. I am entering fear and I am interfering.

In contrast, when I stay centered and not reactive to fear, I’m more likely to respond to a situation appropriately rather than trying to control something, or someone, I can’t control. That might mean acting or not acting, but in either case, I am not interfering.

So “do not interfere” is my current message from the universe. What about you? Have you gotten a message lately?

There is a time for everything, and a season for every purpose under Heaven. ~Ecclesiastes 3:1

related posts: Letting Go; The Things I Cannot Change

Summer's Ease

I felt in need of a great pilgrimage
So I sat still for three days
And God came to me
~Kabir

Apparently I’m harder to find than Kabir because I waited for three months. Or maybe I just enjoyed the wait. I’d like to say I’ve come back to blogworld with profound insights to share, having fully awakened into Buddhahood. Maybe there were some enlightened moments, but mostly I just savored the summer.

It has been a time of experience rather than thought, contemplation rather than reflection, action rather than reaction, waiting rather forcing.

I’ve spent glorious time at my cabin, which is, in fact, where I am right now, scribbling on a notepad as I sit on the deck, listening to the creek’s song as the sun dances on the water.

Time spent in meditation has expanded along with time practicing martial arts, which, to me, is meditation in motion.

Nana time with my grandson has also increased as I’ve stepped in to support my daughter, whose work schedule doesn’t always fit within daycare hours. (That is my little prince in the photo above, joy walking in a downtown fountain.)

And of course, there has been time in the company of friends and family, enjoying tea in the garden, walks along the river, and dinners around the picnic table.

As my blog break stretched beyond the initial month I had planned, I gave myself permission to see what unfolded. Since “wait” is my word of the year, it seemed a perfect opportunity to embrace it. One month became two, then three. Then, lo and behold, my fingers started itching to get back on the keyboard.

So now I’m back, grateful for the most wonderful summer I can remember, and looking forward to reconnecting. Perhaps you would consider sharing something of the last three months in a comment. Is there an image or phrase that describes this time for you? A defining moment? A challenge? A special memory? An opportunity to practice your word of the year?

The following verse captures my experience of the last three months:

But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.
~Isaiah 40:31

Your turn!

related posts: Word of the Year 2013; Step Away from the Thought; Tapping of the Heart

Falling Away

[This is a post I wrote over a year ago. I find that I have come full circle back to this image of falling away. Words, beliefs, expectations, judgments–all seem to be turning color and falling away like the leaves in autumn. This period of not blogging has been a time of experience and reflection rather than thinking and expression. And it is good.

Now I feel things stirring, moving in the direction of reconnecting. Experiences are starting to take some shape in words. Perhaps there is more to say. Perhaps there is something new to say. We’ll see.

And so, my friends, bear with me yet a little longer. Since this break stretched out much longer than I initially expected, it seems to be taking up a season rather than a month. It feels premature to cut into the remaining time of summer, the most beautiful summer I can ever remember. But when I come back from the creek at my cabin, and when I come inside from the garden, I will sit down at the computer and share some words and catch up with some of your words, too.

In the meantime, all my very best wishes to you.]

The named is the mother of ten thousand things.
The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth.
–Tao Te Ching

This phrase has been playing in my mind the last several weeks.  It is often accompanied by a physical sensation of things falling away from me.  When I try to describe it to someone, I find myself using my hands the way you would brush leaves or crumbs off your clothes.  My hands start near my chest and move down the sides, flicking out near my hips, as though shaking off the last pieces that might be clinging to my fingertips.  My hands instinctively do this while I’m searching for the words, but the only words that come out are “falling away, falling away, falling away.”

What is it that I’m shedding?  I think back to when the sensation began.  What was happening then?

One thing was that I decided to stop a spiritual study I was doing with someone I like very much.  I like talking to people of faith, any faith, which includes everyone if you think about it.  Even people who claim to have no faith have faith in its absence.  I’m curious about what faith means to people, how faith guides them, how it manifests in their everyday lives.  So I enjoyed my discussions with this person.  It became clear, however, that we were reaching a point where I was being asked to make a choice, to commit to her view of things, to join her community of faith.

I felt sad about this because, as I had explained to her before, I already have a community of faith I am committed to, and I don’t plan to leave it.  I also felt a bit flummoxed because declining her invitation seemed like a rejection of her beliefs.  By her definition, it was, although I didn’t see it that way.  A spiritual koan.

Another thing that was happening involves my recent interest in learning how to use nunchucks, a martial arts weapon made of two sticks joined by a chain.  In the first lessons, the teacher showed me specific techniques, but there came day when he turned me loose, so to speak, to use the techniques in any combination I wanted, and furthermore to experiment with other techniques.  I was initially paralyzed by the absence of specific instruction, but once I embraced the concept I found great freedom in letting the nunchucks fly, keeping them in motion without a lot of thinking and planning.  When practicing privately, I discovered that closing my eyes and just feeling them in my hands enhanced both my ability and enjoyment.

What could these things have in common and how could they be connected to this sense of falling away?  I’m not sure, but I keep going back to that passage from the Tao Te Ching quoted above.  As a person who has spent waaaaay too much of my life living in my head, naming I’m sure ten thousand things and more, I’ve come to a place where the naming just doesn’t seem so important anymore.  I don’t seem to crave that in-my-head rational clarity the way I used to.

Yes, we understand our world by naming it and explaining it, and communication requires common agreement on the meaning of certain words.  But somewhere beyond that, or beneath it or inside it or over the rainbow (see what I mean about words?), all the names fall away.

They...just...fall...away.

Ever desireless, one can see the mystery.
Ever desiring, one can see the manifestations.
And the mystery itself is the doorway to all understanding.
–Tao Te Ching

related posts: Spiritual Simplicity; There is No Them

There Is No Try

Quit trying. Quit trying not to try. Quit quitting. ~zen saying

I was sitting on the bank of the creek by my cabin, close enough for the water to kiss my toes now and then, surprising me with a tickling burst of icy cold.

The creek is always rushing, tumbling, gurgling, frothing, full of noisy energy and motion. When I closed my eyes, I could hear the upstream water crashing towards me with my left ear, while my right ear listened separately to the water swooshing downstream just as quickly away from me.

Like time. On one side the future hurtles towards me and without pausing becomes the past, slipping by and out of reach so fast.

And yet, right in the middle of the cacophony in stereo, there was the tiniest of gaps, a hair thin opening, and when I listened there...silence. Elusive, ephemeral, coming in and out of my awareness when I tried too hard to focus. But when I relaxed, it was there  – golden, still, unchanging, eternal.

That seems to be where I’m spending a lot of time these days, in that gap, at least when I’m not chasing my toddler grandson around while my daughter is at work. A nice juxtaposition – an almost two year old dynamo who stops in his tracks to immerse himself in the life of a passing ant or to see how many ways he can spray Nana with the sprinkler. He invites me into the gap where there is no time rushing by. There is only now and now is forever.

Do or do not. There is no try. ~Yoda

related posts: Falling into Now; Eternity in a Dew Drop

[So what’s happening with the blog? I took a break for the month of June because I felt called to spend more time in contemplation and less time with words. I have missed keeping up with my blogging buddies, but my soul has be grateful for this quiet time. So much so that I’m going to continue my informal personal retreat for another month, and maybe even two. I might post something here and there during this time, and I expect to resume a more regular blog schedule and to reconnect with all of you a little further down the road. In the meantime, I’m always available by email if you want to get in touch. galenpearl@gmail.com]

A Great Pilgrimage

I felt in need of a great pilgrimage
So I sat still for three days
And God came to me
~Kabir

This poem, graciously sent to me by Linda Lee at Dangerous Linda, has been calling to me. As I wrote before, this year has been evolving into a time of personal retreat, not in any formal sense, but in a “tapping of the heart” sort of way.

As the quiet of an empty nest fills my home, as I spend more time in morning meditation, as I make more effort in my practice of martial arts, there is a growing awareness of the busyness of my mind.

My mind cavorts like kittens high on catnip. It gorges on feasts of thoughts. I am ready, I think, for a “fasting of the mind.”

According to Chuang Tsu in Inner Chapters, Confucius said:

Do not listen with your ears but with your mind. Do not listen with your mind but with your vital energy. Ears can only hear, mind can only think, but vital energy is empty, receptive to all things. Tao abides in emptiness. Emptiness is the fasting of the mind.

It’s no accident, I think, that my word of the year this year is Wait. Although it came as a surprise, this unassuming little word is turning out to be one of my best teachers and guides. I have a longing now to heed it, to sit still and pay attention.

To that end, I’m going to take a break from new blog posts for the month of June. I’ve been blogging since February 2010, with no breaks longer than a few days at the cabin, so this will be a new experience for me. I admit to a little nervousness, but mostly I’m excited to see what will unfold.

I’m not unplugging entirely. I will continue my short “Living in Your Happy Place Every Day” posts on my 10 Steps Facebook page. If you haven’t seen it, I hope you will visit and “like” it. Also, if you want to contact me, I will be available through Facebook, and email at galenpearl@gmail.com.

Have you ever taken a break from blogging? How was that experience for you? I hope you’ll share your thoughts in the comments.

Wishing all y’all a blessed month full of delight.

The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao
The name that can be named is not the eternal name
The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth
The named is the mother of ten thousand things
Ever desireless one can see the mystery
Ever desiring one can see the manifestations
~Tao Te Ching

related posts: Step Away from the Thought; A Warrior of Waiting

Invest in Loss

If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves. Moving, be like water. Still, be like a mirror. Respond like an echo. ~Bruce Lee

Invest in loss? That does not sound like wise financial planning! Yet it is a slogan we practice with in martial arts. What does it mean?

If I am sparring with someone who is more skilled than I am, which is almost always, I can take one of two approaches.

I can become stuck in my ego, insecure and nervous. In this case, I’m focused on myself, on my own discomfort. I’m tense and distracted. If my partner attacks, I’m likely to just back up, trying to get away. Eventually, I’ll get backed up against a wall with nowhere to go. Or I might go on the offense, flailing away with false bravado to mask my growing panic. At the end of the match I’m winded and discombobulated. I haven’t learned anything.

My other choice is to become free from my ego, confident and calm. In this case, I’m focused on my partner, on my partner’s energy and movements. I’m relaxed and alert. If my partner attacks, more times than not, his attack will connect. (I should interject here that we use only light contact, so I’m not in danger of serious injury.) I’m more judicious with my attacks, waiting for an opening. At the end of the match, I’m energized and excited. And I’ve learned something.

In his book There Are No Secrets, Wolfe Lowenthal explains this lesson from his tai chi teacher, Cheng Man-ch’ing. If you allow someone with superior skill to attack you 100 times, you can study his technique. Out of the 100 times, you might “lose” 99 times. But you have watched and learned. When your partner attacks the 100th time, you are prepared. You neutralize the attack and your partner is defeated by his own energy.

Easier said than done. Yesterday, I was sparring with a very advanced student. At the end of the match I thanked him and asked for advice. His one comment to me? “Breathe.” Hmm. I will be investing in loss for a long time, I think!

That’s okay. It’s better than okay because I’ve discovered that investing in loss applies to life beyond martial arts. There is so much we can learn when we are not attached to “winning.”

The other day, someone was upset with me. I started to react defensively to what I believed was an unfair accusation, but instead, I paused. I listened to what the other person was saying without getting my ego knickers in a knot. As she vented her indignation, I realized that she was ascribing thoughts and motives to me that existed only in her imagination. I listened more deeply to the underlying fear that created the story she was telling herself.

Because I was willing to “allow” her attack, I learned something about her that opened the door to true communication. Without attacking in return, I was able to “deflect and reflect” until she saw for herself that her distress was unrelated to me. I became her ally instead of her enemy. We parted with connection and friendship instead of separation and pain.

Perhaps, to paraphrase the saying, the best defense is no offense.

I can think of other examples, but perhaps you might share an experience from your own life when investing in loss turned out to be a good strategy. I’d love to hear your story.

First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, and then you win. ~Mahatma Gandhi

related posts: My Half of the Bargain; No One Wins in Court

Witness to a Random Act of Kindness

Carry out a random act of kindness, with no expectation of reward, safe in the knowledge that one day someone might do the same for you. ~Princess Diana

This morning I was on my way to an appointment amidst busy traffic as people hurried to work. All of a sudden cars ahead of me stopped.

I saw that a pick up truck driver was trying to back a U-Haul trailer into a narrow driveway. He was not very skilled, and even with a helper standing behind the trailer giving him directions, he still had trouble negotiating the intricate maneuvers of going in reverse with a trailer. He would back up a bit, the trailer would angle too wide, he would pull forward and try again. With each try, he got a few feet further.

Meanwhile, the double lane of cars stacked behind me continued to lengthen. There must have been at least forty cars at a standstill. Those of us close enough could see the harried and embarrassed look on the driver’s face as he tried again and again to get that darn trailer to back straight in.

We were stopped for several minutes and yet not one driver honked. All around me, I felt the patience and compassion of the other drivers, or at least the amused tolerance. Finally, the driver managed to back in far enough to clear the street. The trailer was still angled awkwardly, but it would have to do. As cars started forward, he waved apologetically. Many of us waved back.

Have you witnessed a random act of kindness lately?

related posts: A Few Leaves; Mi Casa Es Su Casa; The Kindness of Strangers

Tapping of the Heart

If you lived in your heart, you’d be home by now. ~bumper sticker

I read recently about an inner knowing attributed to the bushmen of the Kalahari. They seem to know things beyond their physical senses, like where the game will be found, or when danger is approaching, or when someone is coming. They describe this mysterious knowing as the “tapping of the heart.” They know with an intuitive knowing that comes from a deep place.

In Seven Sacred Pauses, Macrina Wiederkehr tells a story about a group of westerners who hired some bushmen to guide them through the desert. After traveling at a rapid pace, the bushmen sat down and refused to continue until they were ready. They explained that they had to wait for their souls to catch up.

I wonder about the pace of my life. Since retirement, and especially since my nest emptied last December, it has certainly slowed down, but my days are still full. Sometimes they feel too full.

Gradually, though, there is a settling, a deepening. I spend more time in the morning and evening meditating and praying, and reading wisdom literature. (Right now I’m reading the Bhagavad-gita, and Inner Chapters by Chuang Tzu.) I spend more time in solitude, either at home or at my cabin in the mountains. I spend more time listening. And practicing my word of the year – Wait. Perhaps I’m waiting for my soul to catch up.

I’m fortunate to have this time. Not everyone does. When my children were growing up and I was working, I barely had time to pee, much less to pray. Contemplating bushmen heart tapping was not on my schedule. If my heart was tapping, I probably attributed it to stress-induced palpitations.

But now the idea draws me in, like a quiet drumbeat in primeval forests, shrouded in the mists of time, lost in the fog of modern life. I hear its echo deep in the inner chambers of my soul. I listen...and wait.

Deep calls to deep. ~Psalm 42:7

related posts: Falling Away; Spiritual Simplicity

Snow Blessing

Yesterday morning, I was feeling restless and decided on a whim to go up to my cabin for a quick overnight. I quickly gathered some food and books and headed up to the mountain. It isn’t far, just over an hour’s drive. In my haste, I neglected to trade cars with my daughter. When I bought a tiny “city” car a few months ago, I let her take the old “anywhere” car, which I kept because when the family is all together, we still need the bigger vehicle with eight seats. Because the old car also has all wheel drive and higher clearance, I usually take it up to the cabin.

Before I got halfway there, I began to doubt my confidence in spring’s early arrival. As the altitude rose, the rain turned slushy, and then to snow. I wavered, thinking perhaps I should turn back and have a quiet day at home instead. Yet I drove on. Soon I was at the cabin. The logs were crackling in the stone fireplace, and I was in my favorite chair, sipping hot tea and trying to choose which book to read first.

But the release and relaxation I usually feel in my mountain refuge continued to elude me. I fidgeted. I felt melancholy, sad for no reason I could name. Ill at ease, unable to yield to the embrace of the forest, unable to listen to the counsel of the creek. Indecisive. Anxious. Should I pack up and leave, or stay and risk being snowed in by morning?

So I sat. not in my chair but on my meditation cushion. I sat and breathed. And waited.

And watched. The snow that had seemed vaguely ominous before became soothing. Pure and soft, falling so gently, so calmly. Unperturbed. Serene. The snow lovingly caressed my spirit, cradling my raw places, kissing my sorrow. This is why I came, I thought. To receive a blessing from the snow.

I put the tea kettle back on and chose a book.

Be still and know that I am God. ~Psalm 46:10

[Did I get snowed in? Stay tuned for the next post!]

related posts: You Are Here; Cradling Our Feelings; Inviting the Demons to Tea

Step Away from the Thought

Years ago, I was standing on the sidewalk in Paris chatting with a group of friends. When I moved toward the curb to let some people pass by, I was close to a parked car. Suddenly, a man’s deep voice boomed, “Step away from the car. Step away from the car.” I had never encountered a recorded voice car alarm like this, and I quickly put some distance between me and that car, much to the amusement of everyone who saw me yelp and leap back!

I was reminded of this incident recently when I read a passage in A Course in Miracles about developing the habit of engaging our minds with God, open always to divine presence, united with all beings in our sacred unity. We can develop this habit by actively refusing to let our minds “slip away.”

Our minds can slip away when we get caught up in regretting something from the past, or worrying about something in the future. We can slip away into resentment or blaming or shame or anxiety. Lately, I’ve been thinking about something that happened years ago when someone hurt my feelings. And about a different time when I let someone down. I can get stuck in these thoughts, turning them over and over in my mind, churning up distress.

Before I know it, I have slipped far away from the present moment, far away from God, far away from peace and joy. A Course in Miracles says that when we catch ourselves slipping away with these thoughts, we need not fight them or judge them or reject them. We can simply “step away from them.”

When we have realigned ourselves with the divine, then our inner wisdom will guide us rather than our fear. If action is needed, we will know what to do, and we will have the courage to do it. If stillness is needed, we will know that, too, and we will have the serenity to wait.

So now, when I catch myself getting too close to thoughts that do not serve me, I hear a gentle voice. “Step away from the thought. Step away from the thought.”

The sage lets go of that and chooses this. ~Tao Te Ching

related posts: You Are Here; Thought Camping

Seeking Silence in a Noisy World

For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. ~Psalm 62:5

As I continue to explore my word of the year “Wait,” I find that I am seeking more quiet time. This coincides nicely with my recent transition to an empty nest. There are many ways to experience quiet time.

I might sit with a cup of tea and read.

I’m trying to step up my meditation practice. I’m finding that the noisiest place on the planet is right inside my head!

My martial arts practice, oddly, seems to be a time of inner quiet, even though my body is busy.

I am going to block out more time on my calendar to go to my cabin in the mountains, where I am unplugged from phone and computer and TV. In fact, I’m headed up there today for the weekend.

I might experiment with a time of being unplugged here at home during the week, perhaps Sunday mornings.

Do you have any sort of regular quiet time? I’d love to hear about it.

As I just mentioned, I’ll be away from the computer for a couple of days. Because I use comment moderation (to avoid spam), there will be a delay in seeing them. Your comments are valued and valuable, so please go ahead and leave your comments, and they will magically appear on Sunday as soon as I get back. I look forward to hearing about your experiences with silence.

related post: Silence is Golden; The M Word

A Warrior of Waiting

“Engage!” –Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the starship USS Enterprise, ordering the helmsman to engage the engines

This word “engage” has been tapping my mind lately. Interesting, since my word of the year is “wait.” Hmm.

There are lots of ways to wait. In fact, most of us spend at least a little time every day waiting. We wait at a stoplight, we wait for water to boil, we wait on hold, we wait in the doctor’s office. Everyday waiting.

In my last post on waiting, I described some situations in which waiting allowed me to think twice, and think better, before speaking or acting. That was more like pausing waiting.

So how is this word “engage” connected to “wait”? When my word came to me for this year, it didn’t come to me as cautionary word. It came to me as a deep soul call to action, a reminder that grace is not something I can demand or grab, but something that is given to me. And it is given to me when I am not distracted, but when I am alert, open, fearless...engaged.

I accept the challenge. My spiritual practice this year will be waiting, sacred waiting. I will be a warrior of waiting.

They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.  –Isaiah 40:31

The Wisdom of Waiting

I can think. I can wait. I can fast. –Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse

I’ve only had my word of the year “Wait” for a few days, and I can already tell you that waiting is not such an easy thing to do. Even so, my word has already taught me some valuable lessons.

I’ve used it while meditating to bring my attention back to quiet alertness. I’ve used it to remind myself to listen more and speak less. I’ve used it when poised to do something or say something that, after waiting a moment to take a few breaths, I thought better of.

Just this morning, I was about to call a company that recently provided some services at my house. I was irritated about something and intended to complain. Instead, I waited until after I had a cup of tea. I wrote an email to the company and rather than complain, I asked questions about what I was concerned about. The company had someone at my house within twenty minutes who looked at what I was concerned about and took care of it immediately, with assurances that they wanted me to be completely satisfied. Wow. My concerns were addressed and everybody felt much better than if I had opened the conversation with a criticism.

Of course, it’s true that I might not have gotten such a good outcome, but regardless of the company’s response, the point is that I was so much happier with the approach I took. And the approach I took was a direct result of waiting before acting on my initial impulse.

In another example, I have been thinking about a decision I need to make. It’s not urgent, but I have been pushing myself to decide just to get the issue resolved. Yesterday, I realized that waiting for more clarity will lead to a better decision. The only urgency is my own impatience. I put it aside.

As a bonus, because I had put it aside, I was able to make a more pressing decision on another matter with much more focus and confidence because my mind was not cluttered with needless distractions.

So although my initial reaction to my word was sort of a disappointed “Really?” I’ve come to see fairly quickly that I’m going to get a lot of mileage out of this humble word. Just “wait” and see.

Word of the Year 2013

Wait.

No, not you. Me. Yep, “wait” is my word of the year. Didn’t see that coming.

In fact, I was pretty sure it was another word. I spent the last week savoring that other word, looking up quotes, imagining it, exploring it. And then, as New Year’s Eve moved from afternoon to early evening, and I was starting to get ahead of myself a bit by thinking of my post today, I was reading another quote about that other word, and the word “wait” glowed on the page, calling my attention to it, gently nudging the other word away.

Hmm, I thought, not a very sexy word. A bit dull, even tedious. Not glittery and exciting like my word for 2012, Shine. Waiting well is not something I’m known for. On the contrary, I’ve more often heard myself described, even by those who love me, as, well, impatient.

But I’ve gotten so much better, I protested to this word. I can belly breathe when I get stuck in traffic. I can entertain myself while standing in line to check out. I can almost stay calm when I get handed off through a series of recorded messages to end up still not talking to a real person. Almost.

Really, I don’t think this could possibly be my word, I thought. The word waited. (The irony of that is not lost on me.)

Well, there was that time last summer, which still haunts me, when I reacted quickly and forcefully in fear. I still wonder what would have happened if I had paused to breathe and think before doing what fear told me to do.

And what about all those times when I interrupt? I’m so eager to speak my piece, to move the conversation along, to get things resolved, to override the other person’s opinion.

I have been thinking a lot lately about how scattered I feel, how my mind kittens are high on catnip, how I fidget restlessly while trying to settle in prayer or meditation, how multi-tasking seems to be my default mode because I can’t focus on one thing at a time, how I’ve been yearning to deepen my spiritual practice.

But waiting is not what I had in mind. The word smiled.

So I said the word...and waited. The effect was immediate. My body relaxed, my mind calmed. Like sinking into a soft pillow or warm water. I felt alert, filled with quiet anticipation. My soul expanded, open.

I remembered my word of 2011, and yielded. My new word, Wait, glowed happily and settled in.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.  –Psalm 130:5-6

Do you have a word or phrase that will guide you this year? If you have written about it and would like to include a link to your post, I invite you to do so.  May 2013 be a year of abundant blessings to us all.