Self-Imposed

How do we determine what needs to be done, how it needs to be done, and when it must be done?

It’s true that we all make commitments that we need to follow through on like it or not, and, there are deadlines that are unmovable and non-negotiable.

But.

What about those deadlines we create for ourselves even though no one else is waiting for us to hold fast to our self-imposed timing? Or the self-inflicted expectations that others don’t care about, or for that matter, even know about? What about them?

Do we really have to get our holiday cards in the mail before Christmas? Or even send any this year?

Is anyone else actually expecting us to make the perfect holiday dinner that we’ve always had,? And if they are, maybe that’s not on us.

Do we actually need to get “just one more gift” for ___________?

Is it imperative that we take on that home-improvement project in January?

Is it critical that we take on three new clients right now?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not advocating being a flake, or neglecting to practice good planning, goal setting, and time stewardship practices. Nor am I suggesting that there aren’t important ways in which we want to diligently spend our time and energy. What I am pondering, and maybe you would like to ponder along with me, is the cost to us and those around us when we cling to our notions of what needs to be done, exactly how it must be done, and when it has to be completed?

Photo by Frans Van Heerden from Pexels

Time-Frame

A recurring thought as I look ahead to a new year is that it not get away from me before it even starts. It is so very easy to allow my days to be in charge of me rather than me of them. There is a distinct difference between being in charge of, and being in control of. In charge implies that I’ve built a framework within which life can organically play out, making room for both the planned and the unexpected. Control on the other hand, suggests attempting to desperately hold on to all the moving parts. Of which there are too many to count.

Having had the unexpected privilege of building a custom home, I was able to observe first hand the process of framing the house. This wooden framework is later hidden behind the walls within which we live and work and play, but it is what makes all that living and working and playing possible. It creates the shelter within which we live. It defines the different rooms and areas we inhabit, and creates a kind of order within even the most chaotic of days can occur.

Our time can be likened to a kind of home as well. It is the shelter within which we live, and to hold up to all that life brings our way, it too is in need of a solid framework. One that creates and defines distinct spaces for who and what we care about. A structure that both protects us from taking on too much, and enables us to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach. Which, I believe, is why any of us are on the planet in the first place.

Putting such a framework in place doesn’t happen by chance. First and foremost, it requires our intention. How do we intend to spend our days? What gifts do we intend to offer to the world? What and who matter to us, and based on that, what impact do we intend to make and how will we do that?

Along with intention, creating our framework requires our attention, not only to details, but to the bigger picture as well. How can we bring our attention to who and what are right before us, and yet not lose sight of the larger view? How can we commit ourselves to what is ours to do, and refrain from jumping in to what is not?

As Annie Dillard reminds us, How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. The timeframe of our lives is unknown to us, which is all the more reason to build a solid framework within which to live whatever time we have.



Thought Partners

We all need good thought partners. Those trusted others who provide us with a safe place to process our thoughts and feelings without judgement, and who can provide a perspective other than our own. While they may offer words of encouragement, caution, or affirmation, the most important service they render is their attention, which is what makes it possible for us to find our own way forward.

Photo: Pexels

The Elliptical

Stepping onto the elliptical this morning to program it for my workout, the first information to be entered was the user’s age. Since the user was me, that meant pushing the up-arrow until it hit 66. While advancing the number, I was momentarily distracted by a message coming in on my phone. When I looked back at the display it had bypassed my age, landing me at 77 years old. I quickly pushed the down-arrow to input the correct age, but looking at a number that won’t be mine for another 11 years shook me.

It happened in a flash.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

It happened because I wasn’t present to what was in front of me. Which is exactly what will happen in real life if I don’t choose to be present to the here and now.

The up-arrow is advancing and while we may not be able to stop it, we can choose to stay with it every step of the way.

Old Friends, Part 2

Two days ago I posted a piece here called Old Friends, about emotions that we’ve known for so long that they have become, well, like old friends. We know them, are comfortable with them, and at times, we need to spend time with them. However, because we are so familiar with them, it is easy to allow them unfettered access to our inner living rooms, and they overstay their welcome.

I have more than one old friend when it comes to emotions, but the one I chose to write about was Melancholy because she has been with me for as long as I can remember. As I was writing about her the other day I decided to call her Mel. It was as if that had been her name all along, I just never thought to call her that before.

As it turns out, giving this emotion a name gives me a new handle on what to do when she shows up. I can greet her by name, as in, Well, hello there Mel. I wasn’t expecting you today, but now that you’re here, what am I going to do with you?

Somehow treating her as an actual visitor gives me some agency over how I will deal with her. Do I invite her in for a good visit? After all, she may have important things to share about what is going on for me at the time. On the other hand, if she simply wants to drop in to rehash the past, again, maybe better to send her on her way.

We had family staying with us the day that blog posted, and after reading it together it started a conversation that is still going on and is expanding to more friends and family. We are having fun (mostly) helping each other figure out exactly who these old friends are, what to name them, why they have been with us for so long, and what to do with them when they show up.

Somehow giving them a name is helping us to learn that just because they are old friends doesn’t mean they get to move in.

Photo by Miriam Espacio from Pexels

Through The Eyes Of Another

A book that has profoundly impacted me and those I love is The Road Back To You: An Enneagram Journey To Self-Discovery by Ian Cron & Suzanne Stabile. I think every person on the planet should read it.

In a very, very small nutshell, and in my own words, it presents an entry level introduction to the Enneagram, an ancient personality typing system that suggests that we each fall into one of nine types. Each type sees the world through a different lens. Understanding the lens through which we see the world, and through which other see the world, can be a game changer.

In the last chapter of the book the authors write about a nurse who works with children who have profound visual impairments. Her work includes leading support groups for the parents of these children. They write: ”…the most valuable part of the workshops comes when Rebecca hands the parents eyeglasses that correlate to each child’s specific disability. Almost always the parents burst into tears. ‘I had no idea this is the way my child sees the world’ they tell her. Once they have the experience of observing through their children’s eyes, they never experience the world in quite the same way again.”

These children and their parents are facing immense and painful challenges. While these are challenges that many of us will never face, it strikes me that we are all visually impaired when it comes to understanding how others see the world. Imagine the difference it might make to look out through the lens of another person, and to experience the world as they experience it. To see what they see, and feel what they feel as a result of how they take in the world around them.

I wish there was a way to create eyeglasses that specifically correlate to the way in which we each see the world, but there isn’t. Which means that the only way to understand one another better is through authentic conversation. It requires a willingness to share honestly and listen deeply, all with the intent of a deeper and more compassionate understanding. If we are willing to look at the world through the eyes of others, we might never experience the world in quite the same way again. And that could be a very good thing.

Photo by Francesco Paggiaro from Pexels

Old Friends

It is fair to say that I am comfortable with melancholy. She is an old friend who has been with me for as long as I can remember. There have been chapters in my life where hers was a constant presence, in others she lingered in the shadows, but she is never too far away. I am so at ease with her that before I know it, I’ve welcomed her in, and allowed her to make herself way too comfortable. Sitting with her for too long, I forget that there is work to be done. The good and hard work of crafting a meaningful life, and becoming the person I am here to be.

In a recent and rich conversation with my spiritual director, Dane, we talked quite a bit about my longtime relationship with my old friend Mel. Today I was looking over my notes from that conversation and found these words:

Melancholy—

I know it.

I’m comfortable with it.

We are old friends.

For today, I will build you a fire and you can rest. I on the other hand, have work to do, and I don’t need your help.

You may not have a long and abiding friendship with melancholy, but my guess is that you might have some version of my story. Are there any old friends for whom you can build a fire and let them rest? Remember, we’ve got work to do.

(As always, with gratitude to you DA)

Photo by Jenna Hamra from Pexels

Insight + Action = Transformation

Every day there is the possibility of discovering new things about ourselves and our way of being in the world.

If we pay attention, we can gain insight that can help us become more of the person we want to be.

Insight however, is cheap.

It’s what we do with it that counts.

Question 1: What insight have you discovered about yourself?

Question 2: What are you going to do about it?

Photo by Moises Besada from Pexels

The Magician

Fear is a magician. It distorts the truth, and conjures up images of potential disaster to distract us from the present moment. Captivated by fear’s illusions we believe what we see instead of daring to trust ourselves.

It isn’t that fear isn’t real, it’s just that we shouldn’t confuse it with reality.

About Face

Life becomes a matter of showing up and saying yes.

~ Richard Rohr

Two days after Thanksgiving I was up early before most of the others tucked into every nook and cranny of our home were awake. Throwing on my coat and boots I headed out into the cold and still dark morning because Gracie-the-chocolate labradoodle needed to go outside. Truthfully, I needed to go ousidet too. Every day for the past couple of weeks seemed to have required everything I had to give, the day that lay before me did too, and frankly, I wasn’t sure that I was up to the task. Not, at least, as the kind of person I like to bring to the party on any given day. I was tired and spent, and when I get like that grace, joy, and gratitude aren’t my forte’.

Standing out facing the pines, the house behind me, I waited for the dog to take care of her morning business, pondering the day ahead. I dreaded it, unable to imagine anything other than making it through. I wanted to turn my back on the day and pretend it wasn’t waiting for me when I walked back inside.

And then In the morning stillness, these words rose up:

How you go back into the house will determine the kind of day you have.

In that moment I knew that it was up to me. I could show up and say ‘yes’ to the day before me or not. It was my choice. It’s always my choice. A truth that is rarely convenient is that we have far more choice over who we want to be in any given moment than we give ourselves credit for.

Turning around to face the house, and the day before me, I headed back inside.

It was a good day.