Connection

Recently we were given the book reconnect by Steve D. Call, PhD, and I highly recommend it. While there are many points I could highlight here, I will share just one in the hopes that it will pique your interest to learn more. If it does, grab a copy for yourself.

Very , very simply put, relationships are in one of the following states:

connection

disconnection

reconnection

Think about it. Everything is going along swimmingly, and then bam, because of a comment, conflict, misunderstanding, or we just get out of sorts because we’re tired, hungry, or stressed, we suddenly move from connection to disconnection. At that point, the invitation is always to move towards reconnection. In my experience, this happens on both the micro and macro level, and if we accept the invitation to move towards reconnection on the smaller, daily stage, it can go a long way towards avoiding finding ourselves on the big long term stage.

My husband and I are finding it good food for thought to go with our morning coffee. Maybe you will too.

Elking

It’s called Elking. A made up verb that you won’t find in any dictionary, but those of us who do it know exactly what it means. Throw a coat on over your pjs, stick your feet in a pair of Uggs, grab a steaming cup of coffee, hop in the SUV, and head out for a long, meandering drive through the Glenwood Valley to try and spot some elk.

However.

Elking isn’t really about the elk.

It’s about a beloved family tradition that we created together that makes time for connection. On those drives through the valley problems have been solved, weddings planned, questions posed, answers found, forgiveness asked, grace extended, courageous conversations broached, and next steps discovered.

Elking isn’t really about the elk.

Huddled together in the car, heated seats on high and windows open to let in the cold mountain air, we are bound together by our shared stories, family ties, and commitment to one another come what may. We laugh cry, disagree, find our way to common ground, and sometimes, we actually see some elk.

Digging A Hole

My sister reminded me of an experience she had many years ago. An old message, founded in old wounds, continued to haunt her, clouding her thinking and keeping her stuck in old ways that no longer served her. While she knew it was time to move on, that toxic story continued to stealthily land on her shoulder and whisper its poisonous message.

How to be done with it once and for all?

Dig a hole.

She found a place that required work to get there, dug a deep hole, buried it, and left it behind. If she ever wanted to retrieve that story, she’d have to go to the effort of returning to that hard-to-get-to place and dig it up again. When the story tried to show up again, as stories like that are wont to do, she remembered that it was buried in a deep, deep hole far, far away.

End of story.

This Is Us

When we are in relationship with others, our differences are more evident than our similarities. No place is this more apparent than in marriage. Tom and I have been married for almost 25 years, and our many differences are as evident today as they were when we were starry-eyed in love on the day of our wedding.

I’m prickly. He’s buttoned up.

I’m multi-layered and a tad complicated. He has a deep, gentle core and is more straight forward.

I experience and express all of my feelings ad nauseam. He’s darn good at avoiding any emotions that rock his internal Hakuna Matata, much less putting words to them.

I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. He’s a planner.

I can go for days without a shower. He can’t.

I state my needs and preferences quickly, and perhaps a little too easily. He poses a question as a backdoor way of stating his desires without having to take ownership for them.

I care about form first, function second. He starts with function and hopes for form.

I move fast. He’s methodical.

I can commander any conversation. He tends to take a back seat.

I know I’ll find a parking space close in. He’s pretty sure he won’t.

I’m messy. He’s, ummm, not.

A good example of how this plays out happened the other morning. We were staying at Los Poblanos, a drop-dead fabulous historic inn in Albuquerque, NM. Sitting in bed with our cups of French Press coffee, it went something like this.

Act 1

Him: Do you want to explore the grounds after our coffee?

Me: Yes! And then go to breakfast. (Rated the best breakfast in all of New Mexico.)

Him: But shower first, right?

Me: (Big sigh) Can’t we just be spontaneous?

Him: (Jaw muscles clench) A shower just wakes me up.

Me: And you don’t think a brisk walk in 31 degree air will do that?

Him: (More jaw clenching)

Me: (Bigger sigh) Fine. We can come back, you shower, and I’ll keep walking or read or something.

We finish our coffee in strained silence and head out for a walk.

Act 2

It was a glorious morning, and as we wandered the trails discovering secret gardens, meditation spaces, the resident llamas, took in the attention to detail in the design of the buildings and grounds, and breathed the fresh morning air, the sun on our faces warmed up our hearts. Pretty soon we were laughing, holding hands, and giving thanks for the unbelievable blessing of even being able to grant ourselves this kind of experience.

Me: Who gets to do this??

Him: Today, I guess we do.

Me: It feels so good to be out here together.

Him: (Deep laugh) I think I want breakfast.

Me: Now? Before your shower?

Him: Yep. It’s amazing how rigid I think I have to be in my mind. Thank you for challenging me to do it differently.

We finish our walk and head off to breakfast in happy silence.

Act 3

We head into Campo for breakfast. Our server comes by our table with coffee, and I jump straight into an energetic conversation with her.

Me: We had the most amazing dinner last night.

Her: I’m so happy to hear that.

Me: We both think it was one of the best, if not the best meal we’ve ever had anywhere.

Her: Wow! My partner is the Sous Chef. I’ll be sure and tell him. What did you order?

Me: I had the Rib-Eye. OMG, it was beyond delicious. We also had the Sashimi, the grilled asparagus, and Tom had the Pork Chop.

We order our breakfast.

Act 4

We sip our coffee in easy silence for a few minutes.

Him: (In a quiet, gentle voice) I’d like to offer an observation. You jumped into that conversation, took off running, and didn’t give me a chance to answer for myself or give my opinion.

Me: (Taking a moment) You are so right. I don’t even see myself doing it.

Him: Just like when I ask you what you want as a way avoiding taking ownership for my own needs.

Me: Yes!

Him: You are really helping me with that.

Me: Like you just helped me.

Here is the truth—we are different in so many ways, and while we sometimes drive each other crazy, we’ve also come to count on the gifts that come wrapped in our differences. When all is said and done…this is us.

The Vision And The Breadcrumb Trail

Finding our way requires having both a vision and a willingness to take the steps to get there. Most of us are better at one than the other. Me? I’m all about the vision, and love imagining the end game. Whether that is standing on a stage speaking to a rapt audience, another book, launching a series of retreats, or installing a full-size labyrinth on our property, I can envision it so clearly that I can almost touch it.

All in my mind’s eye.

All that remains is getting from here to there.

The rub? It’s so much more fun to create the vision than doing what it takes to bring the vision to life.

Bringing our vision to life happens one next right step at a time. From that step, and that step only, can another one take shape, and like breadcrumbs on the trail, we follow the path that unfolds as we walk. Whether that means engaging an agent, starting the book, planning the next retreat, or learning about labyrinths, if I want my vision to come to life, I have to bring my life to the vision.

What is your vision?

What is your next right step?

Betwixt And Between

Father Richard Rohr defines a liminal space as the place that is betwixt and between the familiar and the completely unknown.

That definition rings true, and sounds familiar, as this is the space where I find myself more often than not. That place between what I’ve known in the past, and that has perhaps served me well, but with a few more steps along my journey encountering new experiences, new information, new people, and new perspectives, I can no longer count on what I’ve known to guide my steps. This is, I think, how we are meant to travel in the world—letting go of certainty and grabbing ahold of curiosity instead. 

It is usually when I am sure that I know for sure, that I find out that I usually don’t. So much for certainty. 

Liminal places aren’t found periodically along our journey. They are the journey. 

In The Image Of...

Somewhere along the way, most of us forget who we are, who we have been from the beginning, and who we are meant to be forever. It’s time we remembered. Because only in remembering who we are and living into our fullness, can we love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach, the errand upon which we all have been sent.

In case, like me, sometimes you forget too, let’s remember together.

We are all created in the image of God. Every single one of us.

Every.

Single.

One.

Of.

Us.

That sounds really good, right? I think so too. But what does in the image of God really mean?

Today, a question, posed by the Reverend Jacquie Lewis compels me to think more deeply about that, and I hope it will compel you too. Standing tall at the podium, speaking to the thousands of us gathered here in Albuquerque and around the world via webcast, she took a deep breath, and with fierce passion in her heart and tears in her eyes, asked: 

Why are we willing to settle for such a puny God? A God who is unimaginative, stingy, exclusionary, transactional, and punitive?  

Today, in Albuquerque, here is the answer that comes to mind. An answer I hope to spend the rest of my time living into with all of my heart, and all of my soul, and all of my mind.

We are all created in the image of a magnificent, creative, imaginative, abundant, inclusive, relational, and restorative God. Every single one of us.

Every.

Single.

One.

Of.

Us.

We are created in the image of the God who invites all, welcomes all, recognizes all, reconciles all, and who pours out amazing grace to all from a cup that forever runneth over.

Amen. 

Setting The Table

This morning I woke up in Albuquerque, NM. Sitting out in the courtyard of our little casita with my coffee, I started reading a new morning book. Part of my practice to live with intention, and to show up as fully as I can for the day before me, is to spend some time reading something nourishing, something that feeds and challenges my soul. Today I turned the first page of the book, Making Sense of Mindfulness by my new-old friend, Keith Macpherson. Soul food at its finest!

What we consume in the morning sets the table for our day.

Just about then my husband Tom joined me in the courtyard. Coffee and book in hand, he settled in with me under a brilliant blue morning sky. Looking up a few moments later, I noticed him reading something on his iPhone, and from the look on his face and the language of his body, knew that he was consuming something other than soul food. Some headline, about some less than soulful action, in some political arena, had whet his appetite and he was loading his plate from a buffet table of less than nourishing stories. 

What we consume in the morning sets the table for our day.

Looking up a little sheepishly, he pushed that overflowing plate aside, and pulled up the blue plate special of the day by Richard Rohr, a Fransician priest, author, and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation here in Albuquerque, and read it out loud. We do that most mornings, and it’s like splitting an order of soul food, both eating from the same plate. Together we’ve committed to this daily morning practice, but on any given morning either of us can get sidetracked, and are grateful when the other invites us back to the practice.

What we consume in the morning sets the table for our day. 

Don’t get me wrong. I believe it’s important to stay informed, and there are terrible things going on in our world that need our attention. But in order to show up fully for playing our part in our shared human drama that is unfolding on our shared planet, we need first to nourish ourselves well. There is an abundance of research suggesting that a nutritious breakfast is essential to our health and wellbeing, and sets the tone for the day. What is good for the body is good for the soul. Let’s nourish ourselves well. The world is hungry for what we have to give. 

What we consume in the morning sets the table for our day.

Up On The Roof

Every once in a while, it’s good to climb up onto the roof, get a glimpse down the road of what might be coming our way, and imagine the potential scenarios that could play out.

The trouble with most of our imaginations is that we tend to conjure up the worst possibilities, and then live as if they have already come true. What we see from the roof sends us scurrying for the basement to hunker down, and ride out a storm that may, or may not, blow in. When we are always preparing for the what ifs, it’s hard to be present for what is. 

The problem with this approach, which all of us are prone to take at one time or another, is that we never get around to living in the house. To fully furnishing and inhabiting the home that is the wholehearted and authentic life we are called to live. 

The roof invites us to consider a different point of view.

What if we turned our worst-case-scenario-what-if-thinking on its head, and used our imaginations to envision the best case scenarios? Began to visit the roof to conjure up our highest hopes and deepest desires, in order to get on with living our way into that vision. It is inside our home that life takes place. It is here that we live with the intention of answering our calling. It is here that we connect who we are with how we live. It is here that we find rest and renewal. It is here that we are nourished. It is here that we remember who we are, why we are, and where we are going. 

Now, as my mitigating husband is good to remind me, using the roof as an effective vantage point from which to see potential dangers, challenges, and risks, is a good practice too. Look down the road, see what’s coming, or might come, and make our preparations. Once we’ve done what we can to get ready for whatever it is, it’s time to leave the roof.  

A roof is meant to be over our heads, not under our feet. 

(Click here to listen to the one and only James Taylor singing Up On The Roof.) 

Pitons

According to Wikipedia, a piton is a metal spike that is driven into a crack or seam in the climbing surface with a climbing hammer, and which acts as an anchor to either protect the climber against the consequences of a fall or to assist progress and aid climbing.

I’ve hiked some steep trails and summited a mountain, but never in conditions that required the use of pitons. I hope I never will, however, if I ever am in a situation where a piton will keep me from free falling down a steep rock face or over a precipice, I will be deeply grateful for those metal spikes driven deep into the crack.

A piton must hold fast, allowing the climber to fall only so far.

A piton becomes a marker for progress made.

A piton is the place from which further progress begins.

A mountain face is not the only place where we suddenly find ourselves in need of an anchor to keep us from falling. Every one of us can fall into old habits, and tumble into long-held stories that are no longer true, or perhaps never were. None of us can make it on our own, and we all need those who will serve as our pitons. Those trusted few with whom we scale the mountains and precipitous cliffs to become our most wholehearted and authentic selves.

Onward.

Upward.

Together.

shutterstock_1040214613 2.jpeg