Threads & Tethers

Everyone has their ways of processing the world around them and within them. One of mine is writing. The practice of putting words together on a page puts my life together a little better. It sharpens my attention, and makes more clear the lens through which I see the world.

Last spring I stopped writing on a daily basis, except for the occasional burst of creative energy or the expression of moral outrage. The absence of this practice has been noticeable. At least to me.

Writing acts as both a thread and a tether. It weaves together the callings of my heart with the steps of my feet, and keeps me in close connection to who and what matter most. Without this practice in place things begin to unravel, and there is a growing sense of being unhitched to that which keeps me grounded.

If ever we were in need of a thread and a tether it is now. Now is not the time to be at loose ends with ourselves.

Which means, there is only one choice to be made. At least for me.

Start writing again. And so I am.

What are your ways of processing the world?

What acts as both your thread and your tether?

Whatever it is, if you have set it down, now might be the time to pick it back up.

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.)

For What The Bell Tolls

 “We seldom notice how each day is a holy place

Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,

Transforming our broken fragments

Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.”

~John O’Donohue, To Bless The Space Between Us: A Book of Invocations and Blessings

I love where we live. I love our home, and the mountain that watches over us. I love the pine forests that surround us, and the wide sky overhead.

However.

I’ve decided that there is just one teeny-tiny thing missing; an ancient church with an ancient bell that rings like clockwork, every morning at 8:00, and every evening at 6:00. Speaking of clocks, it also rings out the hour, every hour, on the hour, all around the clock.  For the past week in the tiny ancient village of Lindum, Denmark, the ancient bell in the ancient church, next to the old home in which we are staying, has done just that.

When it rings at 8:00 in the morning, it is as if to say remember, it is a new day, a holy day. What will you do with this day that has been given to you?  

When it rings out the hour, every hour, on the hour, it is as if to say remember, it is a new hour, a holy hour. What will you do with this hour that has been given to you?

When it rings at 6:00 in the evening, it is as if to say remember, it is the end of another day, a holy day. What did you do with this day that was given to you? 

It is so easy to forget the holiness of time as it marches on, day after day. 

And if time is not holy, then what is? For it is within our hours that we live out our lives.

And if our lives are not holy, then what is? For it is with our lives that we are able to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach.

And if the world is not holy, then what is? For it is within the world that we live out the one life that we have been given.

And so it goes. Holy lives, spent in holy hours, in the midst of a holy world.

All is holy. 

Photo: Tom Pierson

What If It Didn’t Have To Look Like That?

 “Find that far inward symmetry to                                                                                

all outward appearances, apprentice

 yourself to yourself, begin to welcome back

all you sent away, be a new annunciation,

make yourself a door through which

to be hospitable, even to the stranger in you.”

David Whyte 

One of my greatest needs is for time and space to myself, by myself, and for myself. It is the water that quenches my thirsty soul, and the food that feeds my hungry heart. And, it is what helps me not to be a total, selfish...well, you know what I mean.

But what if it didn’t have to look like that? 

In my perfect little world, time and space to myself, for myself, and by myself, means whole days at a time with no one else around. It means the chance to chart my own course, bide my own time, and march to the beat of my own drum. When I’ve had one or two of those days in a given week, I can be a pretty nice girl to be around. When I haven’t? Well, not so much.   

But what if it didn’t have to look like that? 

These past two plus weeks in Germany and Denmark, by my calculation, I’ve had a total of one hour to myself, for myself, and by myself. The good news? There were days when I never had to apologize to Tom. The other news? On some days I did. More than once. 

But what if it didn’t have to look like that? 

Maybe it doesn’t.  

Maybe generosity and grace are almost always within reach.

Maybe being good company is almost always an option.

Maybe setting aside my needs is almost always a possibility.

With time and space to myself, for myself, and by myself, I can almost always choose to extend generosity and grace, be good company, and set aside my own needs. Without that time and space to, for, and by myself. Well, not so much.

But what if it didn’t have to look like that? 

Maybe it doesn’t. 

This morning, we enjoyed another lovely breakfast in a little nook off the kitchen and in the shadow of the village church. For the past week our host, Birthe, has extended generosity and grace, been good company, and set aside her own needs. For us. For me.

After breakast, I offered to do the dishes so that Tom and Birthe could go into her delightful sitting room and wander through old pictures and letters from his time here years ago.

In case it’s not completely obvious, this was not an entirely altruistic offer. 

We all have our own unique ways of keeping our best selves in tact. The one that can extend generosity and grace, be good company, and set our own needs aside. Understanding what it takes for that person to show up in the morning, ready for another day, is important information. Cultivating the practices that attend to those needs is our individual and necessary work.

But.

When life takes a temporary turn that makes tending to those needs, in just the way we like, difficult, if not impossible, it’s easy to ignore the better angels of our nature, who are always at the ready, and capitulate instead to their evil twins, who also seem to be always at the ready. 

But what if it didn’t have to look like that?

Actually, it doesn’t.

More Than A Thousand Words

Do you ever feel like this?

Yeah. Me too. 

Rise and Shine

Recently I was lucky enough to spend a week at Rancho La Puerta in Tecate, Baja California, Mexico as a presenter. I was there to talk about the importance of "Trusting Your Own Magnet" - how to sense where life is calling you, and how you might get there.  My youngest daughter  Lauren came with me, and every morning we were up early, sitting out on the veranda with our sacred first cups of French Press coffee and setting our intentions for the day. Not surprisingly, our days unfolded with a sense of ease, space and grace.  It. Was. Glorious.

But when someone is serving you beautiful, organic meals made from vegetables just harvested from the Ranch garden and prepared by people who pray over and bless the food before serving it, making your bed in the morning and turning it down at night, leading you in quiet meditations, massaging and herbal wrapping your body, and serving you just made smoothies... well... if my day didn't go well.... #suckstobeme.

One afternoon fellow presenter Lindsay Sherry, a certified nutritionist and holistic health coach, was sharing 8 Tips for Creating Your Best and Healthiest Life!. Tip number one, numero uno, at the top of the heap? Take time in the morning just for you. Her words rang true. The ones that resonated even more? If we're going to win the day, we have to win the first hour. Period. End of sentence. It's as simple as that, and as hard as it gets. Especially when you're not at a world-class health spa with gracious people attending to your every need.

Back home, in the midst of the magic and the mess that is my real life, with meals to cook and beds to make, laundry to do and bills to pay, relationships to tend to and emails to write, it's a little tricker. And yet those morning hours set the table for the rest of the day. They really do. And if I let the table get set for me (hello depressing news, toxic tweets, social media rabbit holes, hitting the snooze button - again, and fake food for breakfast) I shouldn't be surprised if my daily bread tastes stale. Thankfully I came home from the Ranch committed to becoming committed to winning my first hour. Currently, this is what that looks like:

• Up at 5:30ish, hopefully after at least 7 hours of sleep
• Out on the porch sipping Sleepy Monk French Press coffee out of my favorite  before 6:00
• 20 minutes of meditation (or at least pretending to meditate)
• A little inspirational reading (sometimes only time for a sentence or two)
• Off to the gym for a workout

I wish I could tell you that I got it right every day. But I don't. I wish I could tell you that I was up to an hour of meditation a day and have found inner peace unlike ever before. But I'm lucky to get in that 20 minutes, and inner peace is a total crap shoot. What I can tell you is that I am learning to trust the practice and just get up and do it. I am finding a tiny sliver  of inner calm that I can access a wee bit easier. Rather than react, I'm a tiny bit more able to take a deep breath and a step back. With more time in the gym my energy is increasing as is my muscle tone. My morning practice to win the day is a work in progress, and comparing mine to that of anyone else doesn't help. I seem to be in pretty good company about that. In The Book of Joy, Archbishop Desmond Tutu dismisses his own morning meditation practice when compared to His Holiness the Dalai Lama's of arising at 3:00am for five hours of prayer and meditation. The Archbishop doesn't haul his sorry ass out of bed until 4:00am and then only manages to squeeze in three or four hours of prayer and meditation. Like Teddy Roosevelt said, "Comparison is the Thief of Joy." 

I've been a morning person for as long as I can remember. Apparently I arrived on the planet wired to get up before the sun does. But being an early riser does not a good day make. What we do when our feet hit the floor does.