Legit

I have every good intention of having a legit spiritual practice. In my mind this is what that is supposed to look like. Early in the morning I head upstairs, step into the lovely little meditation space I created a couple of years ago, light the candle, settle onto the cushion I purchased just for this purpose, set my Insight Timer app for 20 minutes, focus my gaze on the Buddha statue with the beautiful cross around her neck, take a deep cleansing breath, and sit until the timer goes off. Those 20 minutes are how I am supposed to connect with God. With the holy and the sacred that flows through and around everyone and everything.

That’s what a legit spiritual practice is supposed to look like.

Here’s what mine actually looks like.

Early in the morning I walk to the kitchen, pour a cup of coffee, put on a jacket against the chill, and head out to our field. Settling into the chair next to Tom, it’s impossible not to focus my gaze on the mountain in front of our home, take a deep cleansing breath, and sit. No timer. No Buddha. No candle. No cross. Just us, our coffee, and Gracie-the-chocolate labradoodle. We watch the birds, and wait for the sun to crest the pine trees and hit the anthill a few yards away rousing the ants to another day of work on behalf of their community. We read a daily offering from the CAC that lends a holy perspective to our human experience. We talk about everything and nothing at all. We give thanks. We grieve. We complain. We apologize. We laugh. We cry. We do the sometimes hard work of trying to love each other well, or at least a little better. That time, in those chairs, is how we connect with God. With the holy and the sacred that flows through and around everyone and everything.

That’s a legit spiritual practice too.

Almost anything can be a spiritual practice if it helps us to connect, however briefly, to the sacred in the midst of our ordinary lives. It doesn’t have to look like anything other than what it is. A spiritual practice can be as short as our next breath if we notice it, as messy as a toddler’s meltdown if we stay present for it, as scary as engaging a therapist to help us unhook from old stories and heal from old wounds, and as difficult as having the conversations we don’t want to have. Our practice can be as mundane as doing yet another load of laundry, or as miraculous as a few unexpected quiet moments before the rest of the house wakes up. It’s in the presence and the noticing that the practice occurs.

It’s not lost on me that there is a privilege that makes my brand of morning spiritual practice possible. We are both white with all of the advantages that has granted us over the course of our lives. We are decidedly middle class, and generally retired with a bit of time and money to spare. Recognizing that privilege brings with it the responsibility to work for a world that is more just, loving, and inclusive. A world that recognizes the holy and the sacred that flows through and around everyone and everything.

That’s a legit spiritual practice too.

Come To The #wakeupappreciaterepeat Party.

This is a repeat of an earlier post. Given the ongoing COVID-19 crisis, I’m sharing it again in the hope of transforming this post into a shared practice.

If you want to join the #wakeupappreciaterepeat party, you are invited to post your three appreciations for the day on Instagram along with the hashtag, and invite any and everyone to join in.

Gratitude and appreciation matter more than ever.

Let’s get this party started!

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How we start any given day sets in motion our eventual arrival at the end.

I’ve done this particular practice on a hit or miss basis in the past. Not any longer. All hit, no miss.

It’s a simple practice and one that didn’t originate with me.

The very first thing, or no later than my first cup of coffee, I identify three things that I appreciate. To be honest, some days it is harder than others to come up with one, much less three. Thankfully, Sleepy Monk Coffee is an automatic go-to, because no matter how bleak or bright the day, I am always grateful for that first sip, which means I’m already a third of the way to my goal. One down, two to go.

To stay on track, I text my three things to the daughter who shared this practice with me in the first place, and she texts her three back, along with the practice hashtag.

Sleepy Monk Coffee

My husband Tom

Connection - Virtual or otherwise

#wakeupappreciaterepeat

Not a bad way to start the day.

(With gratitude to Lo for sharing this life-giving practice.)

Puttering

I’ve been away from home for a few weeks, and am just now finally settling back in. There is always a time of transition to get back into the swing of things, and my spirits are no exception. A day or two of a gloomy soul isn’t out of the norm. I used to fight it. I used to try and push through it to the other side. I used to try and figure it out.

Now I putter.

A day of wandering here and there, tending to a bit of this and a bit of that, and tinkering with whatever needs tinkering, is like opening the windows and letting the fresh air clear out the dust that seems to have accumulated inside

I’ve never seen it listed as a spiritual practice, but as it turns out, puttering is good for the soul.

Photo from pixels.com

The Backup Generator

We had a scheduled power outage today so that the utility company could bring power to a new business in our little town. If you live in a rural area like we do, along with good-hearted neighbors and wildlife sightings, one thing you can count on is the occurrence of power outages, scheduled or not. We have a backup generator in our garage for just such events, and because we knew this one was coming, we were ready. Or at least so we thought.

Before leaving the house to report for jury duty, my husband Tom powered up the generator for me so that it was up and running and I could get on with my day. While I have started it before, I’m still not very comfortable with the process, even though in my camo jacket and muck boots I look like I should be a pro at it. However, even I knew that the noises coming from the generator didn’t sound quite right, and sure enough, it sputtered and stopped. Everything went quiet and dark, and suddenly the day I had planned got unplugged.

No internet.

No phone.

No computer.

And of course, no hot water.

Thinking the propane tank might be empty, I tried to unhook it from the generator, but to no avail. Loading the extra tank into the car I drove to town where a friend who works at the gas station filled it up for me. Enlisting the help of another friend, we drove back to the house and he hooked up the new tank and started the generator. It sputtered and went out again. Poking around he tried a few other things and was able to get it up and running again, although was doubtful that it would keep going. It might be a spark plug issue. We’d look into that.

Thanking him, off he drove and I headed into the house to accomplish what I could until the generator stopped again, which it did. The power was scheduled to go back on again in a few hours anyway, so I turned my attention to things that don’t require electricity. It was quiet and actually kind of a nice forced break from emails, phone calls, bill paying, and it’s always a good day to skip a shower. However, all of this got me thinking about the importance of being prepared for the next power outage. Obviously we need to get the generator in the garage repaired so that can power up and sustain life in the house when we need it. When the temperature plummets in the winter, or a windstorm takes out a transformer, we rely on that generator to shore us up.

When it comes to our lives, having a backup generator is essential too. There are times for all of us when we experience a power outage. When the supply of the inner resources we’ve come to count on can’t keep up with the demand. Some we can plan for, like the holiday season, moving to a new home, or a big project at work. But others happen in the blink of an eye when an unexpected diagnosis comes back, we are hit with a tidal wave of grief, or life as we know it suddenly falls apart. Regardless of the cause of the outage, our backup generators need to be in place and in good working order, and of course, we need to know how to power them up.

People and practices make up my backup generator, and perhaps they do for you as well. For me that means tending to those relationships that matter, addressing issues as they arise, making sure that there is a balance of give and take, and always working to deepen trust and respect. It means nourishing myself well — body and soul, learning to say no to what is not mine to do, asking for help, and staying connected to the Power Source behind everything. 

To all of you who keep me going when my power goes out. Thank you. 

To all of you who rely on me to keep you going when your power goes out. Thank you.  

Oh, and note to self: If you’re going to dress like you know your way around a generator, you damn well better! 

Eyes To See

To be a Christian is to see Christ in everyone and everything.

Richard Rohr 

Leaving the conference where for three days we considered what it really means to be God’s people in the world, and to live out our faith in real and meaningful ways, one of my commitments is to practice seeing Jesus everywhere. To see in all I encounter the image of the One I claim to follow.

Easier said than done, which is why it is a practice. 

Walking back to pick up our bags from the AirBnB with this commitment fresh on my mind, walking directly toward us was my first opportunity to practice. A man that I might typically describe as “sketchy” stepped in our path. Instantly I was on high alert, adrenaline shooting through my veins, and I was ready to bolt. He appeared to be in his late twenties, scruffy beard, clothes that hadn’t seen a washing machine in some time, toting a backpack, and my immediate impression was that he was a sophisticated pan-handler, or worse. My practice of avoiding such folks is obviously well-honed, and the possibility that he might reflect the image of the Carpenter who lived about 2000 years ago didn’t even cross my fearful, judgmental mind.

And then Jesus showed up.  

Out of the mouth of the man blocking our path, the man I typically see as “the other”, the one from whom I would normally avert my eyes, came these words...I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation folks, but I need to tell you all to have a blessed day. 

With a warm smile and a nod, he continued on his way. 

I’m not saying that we should abandon our common sense and pay attention to our surroundings.  

I’m not saying we shouldn’t take protective action should we need it. 

I guess what I’m saying is that maybe we need new glasses with which to see the image of the Holy everywhere we look.

At least I know I do.

Tonglen

This morning in a rich and grace-filled conversation, I was reminded of a Buddhist spiritual practice that I’d learned about years ago, but have long since left behind. It is known as Tonglen, sometimes referred to as “taking and sending” or “bad in, good out”, and it is as simple as it sounds. For example, I might practice Tonglen for someone I know who is in pain or suffering a great loss, by bringing them to mind and taking in their pain and suffering with my in-breath, and with them still in mind, sending them relief when breathing out.

While simple it may be, it is anything but easy, as it means a willingness to take on the burdens of others by taking them into our very being, and as Pema Chodren explains in the link above, encountering the pain and suffering of others brings us face-to-face with our own. And who wants that, I ask you? But here’s the thing, in practicing it for others we can practice it for ourselves, as we inhale our own pain, and exhale relief back to our own hearts. With time, Tonglen helps us to connect our own pain with that of others, and to see that we are all in this rich and painful thing called life together. None are exempt, and as we sit in that connection we develop more capacity to extend compassion, love, and empathy, not only to others, but to ourselves.

In…pain.

Out…relief

In…suffering

Out…release

In…burden

Out…ease

In…imprisonment

Out…freedom

In…shame

Out…grace

In…fear

Out…courage

In…exhaustion

Out…rest

In…anxiety

Out…peace

In…judgement

Out…acceptance

In…hate

Out…love

In this same conversation I was also reminded that there are times when Tonglen will just be too much for us. Times when taking on any more is simply more than we can bear, and in those moments all we can do is simply breathe.

In…

Out…

In…

Out…

In…

Out…

Written with deep gratitude for my spiritual director, Dane Anthony, founder of SoulPrint

Tethering

There is a tool when raising a puppy or training a dog called tethering.

Tethering means that if you are with your dog and not actively training, or the dog is in their crate or some other assigned rest area, you and your dog are basically attached at the hip. Literally. You attach a leash around your waist, and clip it onto your dog’s collar. Where you go, the dog goes, training her to stay close, strengthening the bond between you and your dog, and allowing you to observe and respond to her behaviors appropriately. Rewarding what you want. Ignoring or correcting what you don’t.

Gracie, our 14 week old chocolate labradoodle and I are becoming increasingly comfortable with this tethering routine. She is relaxing into it, sticking closer sooner, and is starting to offer behaviors that get rewarded, and learning to avoid those that do not. Left to her own devices, without this practice, it would be easy for her to wander, ok, race, into territory where she could do harm to herself, her surroundings, and other dogs or people.

Standing at the counter with her calmly sitting by my side, it struck me that left to our own devices, untethered from our true self, and our values, beliefs, and priorities, we too can wander, ok, maybe race, into territory where we can do harm to ourselves, our surroundings, and other people.

In order to attach ourselves closely to our deepest values, beliefs, and priorities, we have to know who we are and what we care about, and then tether ourselves closely enough that when tempted to wander off course, we are pulled up short. The way I stay tethered to what matters is by declaring my bedrock beliefs. To trusted family, friends and colleagues, giving them permission to check me if they see me straining against the leash. On my website or at the beginning of a retreat, workshop, or keynote, I declare them publicly, compelling me to stay accountable to what I profess. When struggling to stay true to who I am, there are trusted professionals to help me do the inner work necessary to live into my truest self.

Gracie doesn’t always love tethering, but as I stay calm, solid and strong, she is learning to trust the bond being created by sticking close.

If Gracie can do it, so can we.

This Is The Day

This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

The alarm went off at 5AM this morning. Opening my still sleepy eyes, this was the image that greeted me through our window.

The first words that came to mind were those of the writer of the words from the book of Psalms quoted above. Grabbing my phone I stepped out into the cold early morning air, the frozen grass crunching beneath my feet, and captured the image of the moon as it set, ushering in the morning of a new day.

Walking back into the house it dawned on me, again, that this day, like every day, is a gift. It is the day that has been given to us, and it is the day in which we can choose to rejoice.

Or not.

The Psalmist doesn't say, “Tomorrow is the day” or “Someday, or another day, or yesterday” She (or he for that matter) says, “This is the day”. He (or she for that matter) doesn’t say, “We are rejoicing” or “We should rejoice” or “We might, could, must, or will try to rejoice.” The Psalmist says, “We will rejoice and be glad in it.”

Rejoicing is a choice. A commitment to find a way to be glad in this day which has been given to us. It is the only one we have. The day before is gone, and the day ahead not promised. It is only this day in which we can choose to rejoice.

Or not.

As I look around the world that is within my reach (and don’t even get me started on the world at large), on any given day there is at least as much heartache as there is happiness, as much pain as there is peace, and as many problems as there are solutions. It is in the midst of the complexity of our very human lives that we are called to rejoice.

This is the day that has been given to us.

Will we rejoice in it?

Or not?

The choice is ours.

Choosing Peace

“Inner peace begins the moment you choose not to allow another person or event to control your emotions.: – Pema Chodron

It is the second Sunday in Advent, ushering in the theme of Peace.

Let’s start with the basics. What is peace?

The dictionary defines it as freedom from disturbance; quiet and tranquility; mental calm. Taken at face value, it would seem that peace is available only in the absence of disruption and in the presence of tranquil circumstances. That, however, doesn’t jive with life as I know it. Peace has to be an inside job, because most of the time life is messy and full of disturbances of all kind. Our cell phone rings, messages ding, email floods our inbox, traffic comes to a halt, the kids get sick, a pipe breaks in the house, we miss our flight, relationships go sideways, and fear mongers control our airwaves. Peace cannot depend on our circumstances, because our circumstances are not dependable.

Peace is a choice.

Peace is an option.

Peace is a decision.

Peace is a practice.

Peace is a habit.

Peace is a perspective.

Peace is a possiblity.

If there is peace to be had, it is up to me to find it, not wait for it to find me.

Hope Is A Team Sport

I’m not sure when it started.

Maybe it was the year that we bought a piece of property, sold our house, and put everything we owned in storage, as we planned and began building our mountain home. While construction continued we split our time between the old airstream parked on our property, and a string of house-sitting gigs we cobbled together. Needless to say, we’d taken on a lot, let go of even more, life felt untethered, and I often needed reassurance that everything would be ok. As I often do when I am in need of hope that all is well, or at least will be, I would turn to my husband Tom, and after hearing my concerns, he would put his hands on my shoulders, lock eyes with me, and say…

“It’s gonna be ok.”

And I would believe him.

I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s said those same words to me.

“It’s gonna be ok.”

And I believe him.

Anymore, I don’t even have to explain what I’m anxious about. I just tell him that I need him to say it to me. And he does.

“It’s gonna be ok.”

And I believe him.

What I love about this little routine we have together, is that his words are always true. It doesn’t mean that things are always going to work out the way I want, or that there haven’t been and won’t continue to be challenges, heartaches, and difficulties. For me, it means that come what may, we will find our way through. That there is a deep and abiding love that supports and surrounds us, not to save us from trouble, but to travel with us in the midst of it. That in the long run, love and goodness always win.

When it boils down to it, hope is a team sport, and everyone can play. We offer hope to one another, taking turns putting our hands on one another’s shoulders, locking eyes and saying…

“It’s gonna be ok.”

ATG Photography