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.)

The Voice Not To Be Listened To

It’s hard to know how to be in the world right now. How to stay in it, work in it, and remain connected to what matters. My middle of the night thoughts cast doubt in every direction. How did it all come to this? How much more can we all take? Is the world really a lost cause? I’ll be honest with you. There are times when I think it is. And if I stop there, I might as well call it quits and just stay in bed.

But I can’t quit. And neither can you. Each one of us adds to the world what no one else can. We aren’t called to love, help, and heal the whole world. Just the one that is within our reach.

I’m not sure who or what force is behind evil, but I do believe it exists. And one of the things evil would want me to accept is that individual effort doesn’t matter. It does. My contribution matters, regardless of the outcome, and so does yours. Any voice that would tell us otherwise is not to be listened to.

Like I said, it’s hard to know how to be in the world right now. With problems so big, divides so deep, and fear so rampant, who am I to think that I can make one whit of difference?

Actually, I’m the only one who can. And so are you.

Young Love

If I loved Christmas when I was a youngster, I loved Christmas night most of all. That was when the house grew quiet, the fire got another log, and a new world opened up with the turn of the first page of my new book. Every year that new book was the present I looked forward to more than any other. It fed an early love of the written word, which grew into the love of penning my own. It was then, and is now, a love that asks to be fed, and in feeding it, I am the one who is nourished.

What we come to love in life often shows up in our earliest years. Whatever your is, it is a love that deserves to be fed. Feed it well, and you will be the one who is nourished.

A stack of food for thought-Christmas 2019

Time's A Wastin'

Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest. And the only way an idea can be made manifest in our world is through collaboration with a human partner. It is only through a human’s efforts that an idea can be escorted out of the ether and into the realm of the actual.

~ Elizabeth Gilbert: Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

For the past year, or more if I’m being completely honest, several ideas have diligently knocked on my inner doorstep. I’ve tried to ignore them, have pretended no one was at home, and peeked through the shutters to see if they are still there. They are, and I’ve yet to invite them in. If not careful, one day I will check on them only to find that they have moved on, my resolve to finally collaborate with them regretfully too little and too late.

I know the power of an idea that suddenly strikes, and the magic that happens when we accept its invitation. Shit gets done. People’s lives are touched, usually none more than ours, and we have the chance to share our gifts with the world. And yet, acting on an idea when it makes itself known continues to be a growing edge. I’ve learned first hand the energy, courage, and grit required to see an idea through, and the regret that will haunt me if I don’t.

As Joaquin and Reese crooned in Walk The Line, time’s a wastin’, and with only 25 more days left in the year I’ve decided to throw open the door, invite those ideas in, and see what kind of trouble we can get into together. I’ll keep you posted.

Any ideas knocking on your door?

Time’s a wastin’.

Photo: Pexels

When Lightning Strikes

We are headed out for a weekend on Mount. St. Helens. Tonight we will camp on her flanks, and tomorrow head out for a long hike up into the crater. Tom will be the geologist for the group of hikers who have paid a pretty penny to the Mount St. Helens Institute for the experience. It should be a blast. There is just one caveat. Thunderstorms are a possibility, and the trail we will hike is fully exposed. Not the place to be in the event of a lightning strike.

Moving out of the literal realm however, a lightning strike might be just what we need to propel us forward. Most of us have experienced a creative inspiration, new idea, or a flash of insight that hit us like a bolt of lightning. And since we all know that lightning rarely strikes the same place twice, we are wise to be ready to act when it hits. To capture, in writing if possible, what was illuminated in that brief but brilliant flash of light. Once we’ve grabbed hold of it, we can begin to act on it. Play with the creative inspiration, follow the idea to see where it leads, and explore that new insight to discern what it means and what to do with it.

If the purpose of a lightning strike is to inform, inspire, and illuminate, the next time it hits, let’s be ready.

Glenwood - August 9, 2019

Spoiler Alert

In the age of fake news, it is essential that we are diligent to discern fact from fiction, and information from opinion. It is incumbent upon each of us to search for journalists who fiercely ferret out the truth, and tease the facts out of the rat’s nest of fabrication. When it comes to the news and our ability to make informed decisions, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth matters. Good journalism is the art of reporting the story in such a way that it shines a light on the truth.

In our personal lives, when it comes to telling a good story, there’s an art to that too. We are story tellers at heart, and we see ourselves in one another’s stories. A story is our own account of events and experiences, not someone else’s recollection. We tell our stories to entertain and inspire, connect and reveal, and a story that isn’t absolutely accurate can still be absolutely true. But have you ever been in the midst of telling a story, and suddenly someone feels the need to correct your telling of it? Nothing kills a good story like a self-appointed fact checker.

I’ll take an authentic story over an accurate one any day, and the next time someone steps in to correct my story, I’m going to try and respond the same way a good friend of mine does.

Now don’t go spoiling a good story with the truth.

The Whispered Invitation

“Allow your intuition to guide you today

and trust that whatever is whispering in your heart

is the right decision.”

Keith Macpherson

This morning I was about to head out to the gym for a quick 30 minutes on the elliptical before getting ready to go into town.

And then I looked out our front window.

Stretching out into the distance was our field, covered in untouched snow, the first light of day spreading across the sky, and more snow quietly falling. The whispered invitation was clear…

Off came the gym shoes.

On went the snowshoes.

The gym will always be there.

The chance for the magic of a solo trek in the snow won’t.

Begetting

This morning I woke up to messages from two dear friends, each of whom had done something  incredibly courageous.

As a result, I am inspired to be more courageous.

Courage begets courage

Yesterday I had the sacred privilege of witnessing, up close and personal, two acts of vulnerability.

As a result, I am inspired to be more vulnerable.

Vulnerability begets vulnerability.

This past weekend I was able to provide a safe space for a group of women, many of whom did not know one another, to risk connection and truth telling.

As a result, I am inspired to seek more connection, and speak more truth.

Connection and truth beget connection and truth.

This morning I had the opportunity to see what grace under fire looks like as someone moves forward with love and integrity, in spite of the odds.

As a result, I am inspired to act with more grace, love, and integrity, no matter the odds.

Grace, love, and integrity beget grace, love ,and integrity.

Onward.

Together.

Believing Our Ears

When I was in college, a good way to clear my head and get reenergized for a long night of studying was to go for a nice long afternoon run. A favorite route was the trail that snaked its way around the edges of the par-3 golf course on campus.

There was one particular run, that I almost didn’t take, but am so glad that I did.

Living off campus in an apartment, I threw on my running clothes, hopped into my white 65 Mustang, and headed for the golf course. On the way there it started to rain, and by the time I parked the car, it was raining even harder.

Or so it sounded on the metal roof of my car.

The rain hitting that metal roof sounded like a torrential downpour. While not a fair-weather runner by any means, which one can’t be if one lives in the Pacific Northwest, the longer I sat there, the more reasons I came up with not to get out of the car. It would be too cold, too wet, too muddy on the course, and too much bother to deal with my wet running clothes back in our apartment with no washer and dryer. Not only that, it was raining even harder.

Or so it sounded on the metal roof of my car.

Just about to put the key in the ignition and head back home, I suddenly thought of all the reasons to get out of the car. After every run, I always felt better, and logging those three-miles left me with energy, clarity, and a more positive outlook. While I didn’t give in and start the car, I didn’t get out of it either, and, it was raining even harder.

Or so it sounded on the metal roof of my car.

I sat there for a few more minutes, pondering my dilemma. To run, or not to run? Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the door handle, stepped out of the car, and immediately found that the rain that sounded like a downpour was actually just a gentle spring rain. Cool and invigorating, the conditions were perfect for a run.

45 years later, I still remember the feel of the rain on my face, the good endorphins that come when we move our bodies, and, how glad I was that I didn’t let the sound of the rain, on the metal roof of my car, keep me from hitting the trail.

Sometimes it’s good not to believe our ears.

image: mustang dreams.com

Hitting The Reset Button

“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

~ George Elliot

After a year of slow recovery and rehabbing from an injury, and taking my eye off the nutrition ball a little too much, it is time to reclaim the good habits that I’ve come to know support the kind of health, wellness, energy, and body I need for the life I want to live.

Today I hit the reset button.

Today I started the Whole30.

According to the founders, it is a “short-term nutrition reset, designed to help you put an end to unhealthy cravings and habits, restore a healthy metabolism, heal your digestive tract, and balance your immune system.”

In a nutshell, it means eliminating sugar of any kind, alcohol, grains, legumes, dairy, and all additives. I can, however, have coffee, which is the only thing that makes it possible. It may not work for everyone, and I’m not advocating it for anyone else, but it works for me.

Hitting the reset button is always an option, and not just for our health, but for our finances, marriages, friendships, family, education, work, mental, emotional, and spiritual health, not to mention our closets and garages.

If we’re honest with ourselves, we know when we’ve gotten off track, become immobilized, or have lost our way, and the sooner we hit the reset button, the sooner we can get on with living the life we want. The one we are called to live. The one that is authentic and wholehearted. The one that connects how we live with who we are at our core.

It’s never too late to hit the reset button.