Wake-up Call

It’s a blustery spring day here. Blue sky, clouds—some dark and ominous, others white and billowy—race across the sky, gusts of wind cause pine trees to sway, drops of rain splatter windshields, and brilliant sunshine all come together to inhabit the masterpiece that is this day.

It is as if the earth is trying to shake itself awake.

And it’s working.

Everywhere there is evidence of new life. Tiny calves arrive in the pastures. Ranchers plow and plant the fields. Buds burst on branches, wildflowers appear according to some anciently choreographed order, and blossoms turn orchards white and pink with the possibility of another fruitful season.

It happens every year. The earth knows when to wake up and tend to that which is ready to grow. If we pay attention we’ll find that we are living within the pages of nature’s handbook. A dummies guide to a fruitful life.

Spring is a reminder to shake ourselves awake and tend to whatever is ready to inhabit the masterpiece that is our life.

Hot Coffee On A Cold Porch

It was minus 10 degrees this morning. As is our custom, we sat on the front porch with our insulated mugs of steaming Sleepy Monk coffee, all bundled up with multiple layers, fleece blankets, wool beanies and warm gloves.

No one would have blamed us if we had decided to stay inside where it was warm and toasty for our morning ritual of coffee, connection, and a little contemplative reading. It was below zero for crying out loud. But somehow, doing what it takes to preserve and protect that practice, come what may, is worth the effort. For now.

It’s not a rigid, letter-of-the-law rule by which we have to abide, but rather, a choice worth making. For now.

It’s a time together at the beginning of the day that sustains and better equips us for whatever life brings our way. For now.

There’s nothing sacred or magic about coffee on a porch. That is found in the showing up. In the readiness to listen. In the openness to receive. In the possibility of being connected to and changed by something way bigger than two elders who love each other and a good cup of coffee. It just happens to take place, for us, over coffee on a porch.

That’s the ritual that sustains us. For now.

That’s the practice that equips us. For now.

That’s the choice worth making. For now.

What might yours be? For now.

Climbing A Mountain Part 4: Courage Under Fire

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

Back at the trailhead we had each shared our biggest fear about the climb. His was a fear of heights. Not an insignificant thing on or off a mountain. A few hours into it, he hadn’t had to stare that fear in the face. Now he did, as our next steps would include a short but steep climb, a traverse across a narrow trail with steep slopes on either side, and finally, another steep pitch bordered by a crevasse.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

We had stopped at an outcrop to put on our crampons. He turned his face away from the slope and gripped the sides of a boulder. We all silently went about gearing up, sensing that for the moment, all we could do was give him a safe space in which to be afraid. Not try to talk him out of it, or tell him what to do or how to do it. Fear doesn’t need fixing.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

Looking up from my boots, he was sitting on a rock, his wife kneeling at his feet, carefully attaching his crampons to his boots. It was like watching Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, showing them what love does in the face of fear.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

And then he did. He stepped out onto the slope and headed straight up. Like climbing a ladder that is leaning up against the side of a house, but with nothing to hold on to. One step ahead of him, his cousin told him to fix his focus on her feet rather than the steep slope on either side. Behind him another cousin told him to simply take five more steps. The one in front was terrified too, but by focusing on him she momentarily forgot that she was afraid too. The one behind him called upon her experience as a Cross-fit coach to help him simply take the next right step. Step-by-terrifying-step, he made his way to the other side of the thing he thought he couldn’t do. He did it himself, but he didn’t have to do it alone.

When did we decide that being vulnerable is an act of weakness? From what I saw up on that mountain, it is one of the most courageous things we can ever do.

Two days later, we passed that same steep stretch on our way back down.

“I can do that,” he said.

A Gathering Of Words

Life is nothing if not a maze of grace.

I’ve loved that gathering of words ever since it appeared on my page. Hanging together like good friends, they are at ease in one another’s company. Each word separate but intimately connected, the meaning greater than the sum of the its parts.

Life is the condition that distinguishes us as animate beings, it includes the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change, signifies our existence as a human being, and refers to our time here from birth until death.

In other words, life is kind of a big deal.

A maze is a complex, and sometimes confusing network of paths and hedges designed as a puzzle.

In other words, a maze challenges us to find our way through.

Grace is courteous goodwill, an extended period of time granted as a special favor, and unmerited or unearned favor.

In other words, grace is what helps us transcend our blunders.

Our time on the planet is our shot at becoming who we are meant to be and doing what we are here to do. There will be dead ends, unexpected detours, and wrong turns along the way. Treating ourselves and others with kindness and goodwill smooths the way for everyone.

In other words, life is nothing if not a maze of grace.

No wonder these words found their way to one another.

Word Of The Day: ALIVE

When I came up with the list of words on which to hang my 2020 hat and turned it into a word cloud, I noticed that three of the words appeared larger than any of the others.

ALIVE

ENERGIZED

TRUSTING

As it turns out, it’s because those were the only three words that appeared on my list twice. Apparently they are meant to be especially useful this year as I continue to put my daily efforts into crafting a meaningful life. Which, for the record, is why I suspect we are all here in the first place.

Over the next few weeks I’ll focus on a word of the day drawn from that list, taking a deeper dive into what it means, and how it can inform, influence, and inspire me in meaningful and purposeful ways.

ALIVE

Not only did alive show up twice, it was also the first word that appeared on my list. That can’t be an accident. Finding myself in my mid-sixties it is clear that I’ve crested the hill that is my life. Death is closer than my arrival on the planet, and I find myself making friends with that truth. Not in a fearful, wringing-my-hands-sort of way, or a morbid, oh-well sort of way, but in a living, breathing, get-off-your-ass-and-show-up-sort of way.

To be alive is a daily practice, a discipline, a choice. Or as Andy and Redd succinctly remind us in The Shawshank Redemption - …get busy living or get busy dying…

Alive means knowing what and who bring me to life, and spending my time and energy doing those things and in relationship with those people.

Alive means choosing that which sustains, nourishes, and energizes me, rather than settling for what doesn’t.

Alive means finding that when all is said and done, I will drag myself over my finish line having spent every ounce of myself in the service of crafting a meaningful life, loving, helping, and healing the world that is within my reach, and reflecting as best I can, the image of the creative power that is behind it all.

Simply put, I want to be fully alive until I’m totally not.

Putting It Into Words

It feels good for 2019 to be in the rearview mirror. At least it does to me, and so it seems, to most of the people I know. Yes, there were many moments of joy, causes for celebration, and plenty of love and grace to go around, but there was just something about last year that called upon us to dig deeper than we sometimes thought we could.

It was a year that left us ready to begin again.

There is no doubt that this new year will once again call upon us to dig deep, to endure, and to show up, again, and again, and again. Rather than a list of things to do better, I find myself searching for the words with which to travel through this year.

Words that will serve as touchstones for my choices big and small, day in and day out.

Words that describe who I want to be and how I want to show up in the world.

Words like this…