A New Start To The Day

The news ain’t great these days.

Most mornings as I wait the recommended four minutes before I can press the coffee, I scan my email inbox. Along with the tantalizing smell of freshly ground coffee brewing, my senses are assaulted with the latest New York Times Breaking News Headlines. While there is the very occasional headline that to my heart constitutes good news—the swearing in of Judge Katanji Brown Jackson—most of the time what I read breaks my heart a little more—the past two weeks have almost put me under—and hope is hard to find.

It’s not a great way to start the day.

So, I changed it.

I unsubscribed to The NY Times newsletter.

I subscribed to Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s A Hundred Falling Veils: there’s a poem in every day

This morning I was greeted with my first poem from Rosemerry, about, of all things, hope. (You can find her poem, Longing to Be Seen here)

How we start the day matters. Along with coffee and time with my husband and our dog as the sunlight first hits the meadow, I’m choosing to start my day with poetry, and a little hope.

Maybe you will too.

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(Now before you go jumping to any conclusions, it’s not that I don’t want to be informed about the goings on in the world. I am simply choosing not to start my day there. Being part of a well informed citizenry matters to me, and it should matter to you too. Our democracy depends on it. There are good sources of news, as in real information as opposed to opinion and rhetoric out there, and, spoiler alert, they are not found on social media.)

Okay With Not Being Okay

The other day I screamed at a customer service agent over the phone.

Stop! Just stop talking! Be quiet and let me finish! Thankfully I stopped short of yelling Shut the F#@k up!, but just barely.

It didn’t make me feel any better. How could it? Yelling at him wasn’t okay. But then again, neither was I. My little interchange on the phone was a clue about just how not okay I’d been feeling.

Typically whenever something isn’t okay, my first response is to try and fix it. To try and make it better. To try and get over it so that I can get on with it.

I’m trying not to do that.

I’m trying something new.

I’m trying to be okay with not being okay. It’s a stretch.

After hanging up the phone from yelling at the guy who was trying to help me, I cried for about the ninth time that day. Then I laid on the couch for a while. Then I cried some more. Then I threw the ball to the dog. Then I took a nap. Then I watched the KC Chiefs beat the NE Patriots. Then I ate dinner. Then I watched the GB Packers beat the Atlanta Falcons. Then I took a walk. Then I went to bed. Then I slept. Then I woke up. Then I had a cup of coffee on the front porch in the early morning darkness.

Things weren’t suddenly okay, but somehow that seemed, well, okay.

As I write this, there is a little more breathing room around my not-okayness. And with a little more space, I’m less tempted to run from it and more inclined to reflect on it. Instead of trying to fix it, I find myself turning to face it. Rather than hurrying to get over it, I’m slowing down so as to get something out of it. Because it’s here for a reason, and there are things that can only be discovered when we are anything but okay.

We are in a hurt locker. All of us. We’ve been through hard times before, but not these hard times. We’ve navigated hard things before, but not these hard things. With no end in sight, it only makes sense that there are going to be days when we simply are not okay.

And when we’re not, it is fertile ground for growth.

And I’m okay with that.

Photo: Rancho La Puerta

Three Questions

As a new week begins, I want to share three questions I heard this morning in church.

The message was given by Mateo, a high school student, on the topic of climate change. An issue so complex, so overwhelming, and so fraught with powerful emotions from those on all sides, that it can be tempting to find ourselves stuck in an endless cycle of hand wringing. Which, as far as I know, has yet to solve a problem. This young man, however, suggested that there might be a more effective approach to this global issue, that as stewards of the planet, impacts us all. In a quiet voice, confident in his message, he encouraged us to cut climate change down to size by thinking locally. As he shared his own story of coming to grips with the challenges facing our shared planet, he suggested that it might help each of us to ask ourselves the same three simple questions that he asked himself when attempting to wrap his young arms around this global bone of contention.

1. How is climate change affecting me?

2. How is it affecting others?

3. What are we going to do about it?

Simple questions with no easy answers, but in contemplating a worldwide situation in his own neck of the woods, he found it easier to see opportunities to make a difference. And suggested that we might too.

Imagine if each one of us decided to be curious. To honestly assess the impact our changing climate is having right in our own back yard, to consider how it is impacting those in our community, to search for ways to address our common concerns, and then get to work.

Mateo’s words rang true not only in relation to our rising temperatures, but as a template to approach any problem that feels too complex to tackle. From global issues to those within the walls of our own workplaces, schools, and homes, a good place to start is with the same three questions.

1. How is this fill-in-the-blank issue affecting me?

2. How is it affecting others?

3. What are we going to do about it?

Rancho La Puerta - Photo by Tom Pierson

Lessons From The Ranch

As I write this, I am anticipating getting on an airplane tomorrow, along with my best friend Kristine, and heading for one of my favorite places on earth, Rancho La Puerta, a destination fitness and spa retreat. We are going as presenters, and throughout the week will work to create a safe space for some courageous thinking for any guests who choose to join us. Our theme is Matters That Matter: At The Trailhead. The intent of our work there is to allow people the time and space to consider where life might be calling them from the trailhead that is their life, and how they can best respond to that invitation. 

It is good work, and a privilege to be asked to return, joining an incredible cohort of presenters from around the world. But what is an even greater privilege is the opportunity to learn right along with those in our audience. The questions we ask them to consider call upon them to be both brave and vulnerable all in the same moment, and if we are going to ask it of them, we must ask it of ourselves as well. So while we are there as teachers, we are also there as fellow learners. 

I never know what I am going to discover when there, but I am certain of one thing; after many trips to this sacred place there are always lessons for me to learn, and I’m looking forward to sharing them with you throughout the week.

The Trailhead

There is a trail leading deeper into our lives, and the trailhead lies squarely beneath our feet. Personally and professionally, taking the next right step begins with a right understanding of where we are now. Moving forward, our task is to follow the trail that connects who we are with how we live, so as not to get lost in a life that isn't our own. 

Today I’m leading a retreat, and we will be considering three questions. Perhaps you’d like to join us.

Where are you now?

Where is life calling you?

How will you get there?

Our lives don't happen by accident; we participate in creating them every day, and one step at a time.

Stoking The Fire

“Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest.”

Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

Taking down the Christmas tree is always the final act to close out another year. It, even more than New Year’s Eve, is my signal that it is officially out with the old, and in with the new. By the time we had the tree down and out on the porch it was almost ten o’clock at night. But our neighbor had a burn pile going, and the stars were out, so what the heck. Why not just drag it across the field and throw it on the fire? Each grabbing a branch we pulled the tree across the winter ground and heaved it onto the flames. It caught immediately, the needles and branches quickly burning away until all that was left was the trunk, which would succumb soon enough. We watched, mesmerized, as the sparks flew skyward in celebration.

It was official. The old year was burned away, sparking a new one, full of possibilities and opportunities. 

What ideas are capturing our imaginations?

What might we bring forth in this new year?

Who might we become?

What might we contribute?

These early days are kindling for the fire of this brand new year. Let’s keep it stoked.

What They Teach Us

As I write this, my 2 1/2 year old grand boy is sleeping. On this gorgeous quiet Sunday, we’ve spent the day just hanging together, and in just a few short hours, here is what I’ve already learned from him.

The importance of play.

No matter what our age, play is good for almost everything that ails us. It reminds us to take life and ourselves a little less seriously.

The importance of finding something we love so much that we can’t help but practice it.

For him, that is golf. Nothing makes him happier than some time with his driver, a few golf balls, and a patch of grass.

The importance of picking up after ourselves.

Whether that means our toys or our clothes, our mistakes or our hurtful words, cleaning things up and clearing the air is our work to do.

The importance of nourishment.

Whether a tiny human or those of us further down the trail, we all need food for the journey, and a well balanced diet feeds body, mind, and spirit.

The importance of growth.

Plotting this little human’s growth since his last trip here reminded me that learning and growing never stop. Or at least they don’t have to.

The importance of standing on our own two feet.

We are not meant to live in the shadow of others, but to find our own solid ground from which to cast our own.

The importance of rest.

Life requires a lot, and bringing our best selves to the party can only happen when we build in times of rest.

Speaking of rest, I hear a little voice calling. I can’t wait to find out what else he has to teach me.

Out of the mouth of babes…

Creative Foraging

“The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them.”

~from Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert

I always think of spring as the signal that new life is about to emerge. Bulbs push their way up through the earth, and new buds protrude on branches. That which has lain dormant through the winter hears the wake-up call of the spring rains.

But what about the rain that arrives in the fall?

It’s raining today, and we’ve been eagerly anticipating this much needed rainfall for weeks. After another exceptionally dry summer in our neck of the woods, the threat of fire has loomed large. With this precipitation we can all start to breathe a little easier, and the trails that have been closed due to fire danger will be opened up for hearty hikers. The burn ban will be lifted soon which means that we can set off our slash piles. Hunters have a better chance of bagging an elk when the weather turns cold and wet. Leaves fall and decay, downed trees continue to rot, the earth falls silent, and new growth feels months away.

Except for the wild mushrooms.

Chantrells are the crown jewels of the fall, and we wait for the rain that will call them forth. We forage for these elusive exquisite treasures of the woods, looking for the telltale bulge at the base of a tree that gives away their hiding place. Coming home with even one of these is worth the effort it takes to find it.

Today as the rain continues to fall outside my window, I’ve started to wonder if what is true of the wild mushroom is true of our work? Fall doesn’t naturally call forth new growth as we make our way to the end of another year. This is the time we focus on hitting our goals, finishing up projects, and checking things off of our end-of-the-year lists. Our creativity falls silent, and fresh new ideas can feel months away.

But what if?

What if there is a creative jewel just waiting for to be called forth by the rain?

What if there is an elusive treasure that could be food for creative thought?

What if we started looking for the telltale sign of an idea pressing up through the soil?

Bringing forth even one of these would be worth the effort it takes to find it.

There are still three months left. Plenty of time to forage.

Photo: Stefan Holm Shutterstock ID: 86126398

A Flaming Mystic: Practicing the Presence

One of my favorite podcasts is On Being , hosted by Krista Tipett. She is one of the best interviewers out there, and one of my favorite episodes was her conversation with Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen, a physician working in the field of integrative medicine. Dr. Remen was speaking about her grandfather, a man who had profoundly shaped her life and view of the world. He was an Orthodox rabbi who studied the Kabbalah. She referred to him as a "flaming mystic", and went on to clarify what she meant by that term. Paraphrasing here, she said that her grandfather viewed the world as a place that was inhabited by a Presence, One with whom we could be in constant communication. We could daily, constantly, be in conversation with this abiding Presence by speaking to and asking of, and be directly spoken to and asked of right back. I LOVE that view of the world, it is one that I share, and, one that I all too often forget. In the midst of my days it is easy to imagine that I am out here on my own, forgetting that I'm connected to life in deep and mysterious ways that are as real as real can be.  

The word mystic can be scary to some as it might suggest a connection to some sort of magic or  "new age nonsense". To others, the term can seem foolish as it is not grounded in scientific fact and hard evidence. I wonder if looking at the  word in either of those ways shortchanges us of some of the riches that life wants to offer. Personally, I believe that we are all, every single one of us, created in the image of a magnificent God. That the creative force behind all of life is present around us and in us, and wants to work with and through us. Every. Single. One. Of. Us. I believe that we are all here to live our most authentic and whole-hearted lives. And, I believe we are all here to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach. Weaving those three beliefs together is where the magic happens. Connected to the Source, we become a source of healing and helping in the world in our own authentic and whole-hearted way. 

You may or may not agree with Rabbi Remen. But what if, just for the heck of it, we all tried on a mystic hat for size. Wake up in the morning and connect with that magnificent Presence, by speaking to and asking of, and then listening for the response. Perhaps we will find that the voice that speaks back to us is as close as our own hearts.

Photo: Brad Hannon

Time For New Stories

As I reflect on this new year, I want to share a singular thought that keeps coming to me—2018: The Year of New Stories.

I’ve decided to consider what old stories are ready to be put to bed. Those stories that might have served me in the past, or maybe never did. The stories that I don't want to take with me into 2018. And, with more room in my heart, mind, and soul, what new stories might I be able to write? To tell? To create? To live? 

Our stories can keep us stuck in old patterns, and confine us to small dreams and fruitless actions. Or, they can open the doors to new ways of being in the world and in relationship with ourselves and with one another. New stories offer us a vision of how things could be, and invite us to take daring and necessary leaps of faith. Sometimes they even weave new patterns in our hearts that allow us to make peace for the first time with who we are in all of our glory and our brokenness. 

As 2018 begins, I find my heart overflowing with gratitude for you...for those of you who are near and dear, those with whom I have only recently crossed paths for the first time, and, for those of you I may never meet but who share this planet we all call home. You matter in so many ways, and my life is abundantly filled with love, deep joy, and meaning because of what each of you bring to the world.

As human beings we are storytellers at heart, and we see ourselves in one another's stories. May we be bold, and bring forth stories worthy of telling for years to come.

With abundant gratitude.

Molly

Photo: Tom Pierson