What A Mess

We’re all a mess. Some of us may be better at hiding it than others, but trust me on this one, even the most buttoned up of us is a mess. Some days we’re a little less of a mess, and on others, a full-blown, all out, will-I-ever-get-my-shit-together mess.

So let’s get over it. We’re a mess. So be it.

Being a mess is hard enough as it is without making things even worse by wishing I was, it/we/they/life/things were different.

So let’s get over it. We’re a mess. So be it.

What we need, more than anything, is to be able to be a mess without someone try to fix us, coax us out of it, convince us that we’re not, or point out the silver lining.

So let’s get over it. We’re a mess. So be it.

I’m not saying that we should wallow in it, hang on to it, or blame someone else for it. But let’s not pretend that we’re not a mess when we actually are. Come to think of it, we shouldn’t be too surprised at the messiness of it all. I mean, it started out that way when we were born, what with the labor pains, pushing, gushing, bloody, gooey mess and all. We forget that before the doctor or midwife or nurse or whoever wrapped us up in a clean blanket and put a cute little beanie on our pointy little head, we were a slippery little mess. A miraculous one to be sure, but a mess nonetheless. In other words, life is messy. Always has been, always will be. So maybe, just maybe, to be a mess is simply another way of saying that we are alive.

So let’s get over it. We’re a mess. So be it.

Day 5 without a shower in the Wallowa Mountains

Hypothetically Of Course

It’s been a rough couple of years. People are talking about it, posting about it, writing, speaking, and ruminating about it. We may be beginning to emerge from the pandemic, but there is no getting back to the way things were. Those days are gone, which probably isn’t such a bad thing. It’s just that we’re not quite sure who we are anymore. It’s like we’ve been tossed out of the spin cycle without getting rinsed off. All of the residue from these last two years is still on us, and we don’t know what to do with it. So rather than taking the time to clean up our own acts, sometimes we take out our pent up frustrations and persistent fears on others. The chatbot who can’t seem to understand our question, the CS representative who finally answers the phone after we’ve been waiting on hold for two hours, the service provider who informs us that the supplies we need are on backorder, the driver who won’t move out of the fast lane, those holding differing political views than we do, and the person on the other end of the line who, through no fault of their own, cannot, as much as they would like to, give us the answer we want. And then of course, there are always those closer at hand, like, say, the people we love and maybe live with, that get in the line of our not-so-friendly fire.

At least I can, hypothetically of course, find myself in at least one of those scenarios. Can’t you?

But the more I think about it, this doesn’t seem like a new thing. It’s just that the last couple of years have put a finer point on a blunt fact. Whatever we don’t clean up in our own life spills out onto the lives of others. From complete strangers to those nearest and dearest, our unhealed wounds, old stories, undealt with stuff, and unhealthy patterns make their marks on the world around us.

At least I can, hypothetically of course, find myself in at least one of those scenarios. Can’t you?

Now, if we could be our best selves on own, we would. If we could heal our own wounds, we would. If we could write new stories, unravel the tangled webs of our past, or develop healthy patterns on our own, we would. I just know that I’ve never been able to do it without help. I’ve needed the support of trained professionals, as well as those trusted few who allow me to show up as my messiest, messed up self, and who love me enough to listen, and listen, and listen some more. And then to tell me the truth, no matter how inconvenient.

It’s a lifelong process, this becoming our best self. The sooner we begin the better, and, it’s never too late to start. Imagine being able to chuckle at our “conversation” with the chatbot, be grateful when our call is finally the next in line, recognize that getting supply and demand back on track will take awhile, take a deep breath and go around the slow car in the fast lane, become curious rather than critical about the political views of others, understand that the person who can’t give us the answer we want probably wishes that they could, and, treat the people we love and live with from the very best of ourselves.

At least I can, hypothetically of course, imagine myself in at least one of those scenarios. Can’t you?

Holding It All Together

Sometimes it’s hard to hold it all together.

Last week I headed out early in the morning to The Dalles to drop Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle off at our vet to get her teeth cleaned. I can’t believe how much I love our silly dog.

And.

As a dog, she receives better dental care than the estimated 74 million of my fellow citizens without access to dental insurance, who, when financial push comes to dental shove, have to choose putting food on the table over a trip to the dentist.

And.

Driving through the jaw dropping beauty of the Columbia River Gorge that I call home, I was overcome with awe and wonder for this spectacular corner of the world. One of the top destinations in the country, people come here to live, hike, kite-board, wine taste, and of course, fish for salmon.

And.

This was once the home of Indigenous peoples long before those who looked like me arrived on the scene, colonizing, displacing, and destroying their homes and ways of life. The once abundant fishing sites, central to tribal cultures, diets, societies, and religion, were destroyed by dams. Today, traditional fishing, and often living, take place at “In-lieu” Sites. These small, poor parcels of land, often without utility services, are supposed replacements for lost livelihoods.

And.

After dropping Gracie off at the vet, I test drove a late model Toyota Sequoia, and fell in love with it immediately. I called my husband, and before the day was over, he had traded in our other car, drove the new one home, and parked it in our garage.

And.

Heading home later that same day I stopped to grab some groceries. A family sat at the corner with a sign, asking for help with rent. Our new car cost more than the first house I owned, and could sleep a family of 5 in a pinch.

And.

Yesterday I paired my iPhone with the car audio system, making it easier to make and receive calls while on the road, listen to podcasts, and car dance to my favorite tunes.

And.

The parts for that iPhone were likely produced with slave and child labor.

And.

On our nightly walk lately, the stars have been out in spades. It’s almost like God is showing off, as only She can. We turn off the flashlight and take in the wonder and magic of the night sky, grateful to live in a place where we feel safe as the quiet darkness settles around us..

And.

The night sky in Ukraine is lit up by incoming bombs and missiles, killing thousands of citizens, destroying property, and sending thousands of others to makeshift bomb shelters and fleeing across borders. As Russia wages a ruthless and evil unprovoked war, God can only be shedding tears at this devastating display of human hate and hubris.

Like I said, sometimes it’s hard to hold it all together. How do we hold on to two huge opposites at the same time—all the good in our lives and all the terrible things happening in the lives of others— when both are real and both are true?

The only conclusion I can come to is that we just do. We don’t feel guilty about the good, we welcome it with open hands.

And.

We use those same hands to do everything within our power to build a better world for all.

(A guilt-free moment, loving our silly dog.)

Swimming In Circles

“There is so much we can do to render service, to make a difference in the world—no matter how large or small our circle of influence.”

— Stephen Covey

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Just when it seems it can’t get any worse, scarier, more hateful or batshit crazy, it does. An autocratic bully wages an unprovoked war against a neighbor, a Lone Star governor declares war on one of our most vulnerable populations, and the possibility of finding common ground with our fellow citizens seems like a bridge so too far that we can’t imagine ever finding our way across it to one another.

Given the sorry state of our beautiful but broken world, the temptation for many of us is twofold: Doom scroll through our usual sources of information that keep us solidly entrenched behind our ideological bunkers, and/or turn a blind eye to the world and go about our business, hoping it will be better tomorrow. Spoiler alert. It won’t. Not without our help. As in, all of our help.

So, just what in the hell are we supposed to do for heaven’s sake?

Always a fan of any tool that can help us make sense of complex things—like say, the state of the world—I can’t help but think of Stephen Covey and his model of our circles of concern and influence found in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

Here’s my take on his model:

Imagine three concentric circles. Better yet, grab a piece of paper and draw them. (See mine below. Fill in your own accordingly.)

Label the outer, and obviously largest one circle of concern. Herein lie all of those things that keep us awake at night. Issues that try as we might, we can’t change, fix, or eliminate. From unprovoked war to extremism of every ilk, global warming to the inflation rate, hunger to homelessness, and oh-so-many-more, all are worries that are out of our control. It isn’t that they don’t matter. It’s that they are beyond our reach.

Time spent here is foolish.

Name the middle one circle of influence. This is where our rubber meets the world’s road. It’s where who we are and how we show up can have a direct impact on the people, issues, and problems we care about. Covey suggests, and rightly so, that as we invest our time, efforts, and resources here, our circles of influence expand, bringing a little more of the world and our concerns within our reach.

Time spent here is fruitful.

Finally, let’s label that small inner space circle of control. Smack dab in the middle of it all, we get to choose. It is up to us, and only us, to decide who we are and what we care about. In here we equip ourselves—body, mind, and heart—so as to bring the best of who we are to whatever time we have left on the planet. Our greatest chance of making a positive difference “out there” hinges on our willingness to take ourselves on “in here”.

Time spent here is foundational.

Every day we have a choice to make. Will we drown in our circles of concern, or learn to swim in our circles of influence? Our shared future hangs in the balance, and we will sink or swim together.

The Corner From Hell

Why does every kitchen have a corner that’s too crowded? The one where attempting to put something into the microwave means reaching over the head of the person unloading the dishwasher. In our kitchen, it’s the corner where pouring a cup of coffee, stirring something on the stove, and reaching for dishes to set the table all converge. Working there by myself is fine. Given my claustrophobia, throw one more body into the mix and it’s the corner from hell.

Defined as an intense fear of confined or enclosed spaces, claustrophobia impacts about 12.5% of us. It is a phobia because the fear is greater than the perceived threat. For me, the mere thought of spelunking, traffic coming to a stop in a long tunnel, the window seat in the last row of the plane on an international flight, or taking the Chunnel under the English Channel makes me start to hyperven… Can we just talk about something else??

While not included with the 5 love languages, one of mine is space and autonomy. I’ve worked hard to develop my sense of self and independence, and I feel loved and seen when others recognize that. Becoming strong and capable in my own right has come at a price, and when that gets threatened it elicits a powerful, visceral response I’ve come to recognize as emotional claustrophobia. It gets triggered when someone, (unfortunately usually someone I love) steps in to help me when I haven’t asked for it. It feels like they are hovering over me and attempting to rescue me from something I’m totally capable of handling myself. Left to its own devices, my lizard brain takes over and I find myself in full fight or flight mode. It’s not pretty.

When triggered, most of us don’t respond from our best selves, and I am anything but an exception to that rule. Perceiving a threat where there is none, I’ve hurt the feelings of the people I love with my fear-based reactions and harsh words. To learn to respond from a better place rather than react from an unhealthy one, I’m working to identify the feeling when it occurs. Instead of acting on that inner claustrophobia to protect myself, I describe what I’m experiencing to the person I deem to be doing the hovering and helping. It’s my intent to share that with them in a calm and respectful way, a goal that is still somewhat aspirational. But I’m making progress.

This practice is a way of living from the inside out. A way of bringing to the light what we are tempted to keep in the dark. Disclosing when we are feeling triggered rather than keeping it to ourselves, those long held and often irrational fears begin to loosen their grip. Learning to communicate about our triggers in real time can be a game changer in a relationship. It is a way of holding ourselves accountable to show up differently, and an invitation for others to show up differently too.

By understanding what fuels the unhealthy patterns that show up in our relationships, we have the possibility of creating new healthy patterns together. But only if we talk about them.

Maybe just don’t try talking about it in the corner from hell.

Superpowers

We all have at least one superpower.

One of mine is knowing when and how to connect people I love and respect with other people I love and respect. It is pure joy. Nothing to be gained on my part other than knowing that when people connect in the right place at the right time, really cool stuff happens. And I get to be part of the magic. And so do you, every time you exercise your own superpower.

The thing about them, if we’re being honest, is that we can’t take credit for having them. We come with them already baked in. Our task is to discover what they are, and put them to good use for the good of the world within our reach.

Using our superpower, we get to momentarily slip into our superhero suit and save the world just a little bit.

How fun is that?

Super fun!

Superhero: Gracie-the-Chocolate-Labradoodle

Rethinking Obedience

I’ve never loved the word obey, or any of its derivatives. They all imply submission to an authority figure, the exertion of control over my choices, and a loss of personal agency.

Not my jam.

Recently however, the phrase a long obedience in the same direction showed up in a text of encouragement from someone I love. There was something about that gathering of words that had the rich ring of a deep truth.

In a culture that lives on clicks and instant feedback, going the long haul for something that matters can be a tall order. My family and I are in the midst of one such long haul, and maybe you are too. That’s where the whole obedience thing kicks in.

It isn’t submitting to someone else’s authority. It is staying true to our own.

It’s not turning over the controls to someone else. It is continuing to stay our course.

And It’s not a loss of personal agency. It is the exercising of our will to achieve something worthwhile.

A long obedience in the same direction gives us the power to hold true to a vision worth waiting for and working for.

“The essential thing ‘in heaven and earth’ is that there should be a long obedience in the same direction; there thereby results, and has always resulted in the long run, something which has made life worth living.”

~Friedrich Nietzsche

Remembering To Say Thank You

When the seriousness of the pandemic hit, it was quickly apparent that we needed to find a new way of working out. Going to a gym was no longer an option, and we weren’t ready to put our name on the waiting list for a Peloton. A neighbor had told us about a nearby logging road a fifteen minute drive from our house that he loved to explore with his malamutes. It was rarely used and had views that were worth the effort.

On April 11, 2020 we decided to check it out

We headed uphill, our dog Gracie at our heels with her hunter’s orange vest on since she is the color and size of a small bear. Within minutes it was apparent that if a good workout was what we were looking for, we had found it in this logging road.

From the first step it heads straight uphill for 1.7 miles. 2445 steps to the top, it has an elevation gain of just under 1000 ft. Talking on the way up wasn’t much of an option, but somewhere along that 1.7 mile, 2445 step slog I managed to gasp “Thank you Tom.”

And I’ve said it every trip to the top since.

So just what am I thanking him for?

On that first trek up I was thanking him for being willing to hike this road as a way to stay strong and healthy as we weathered the Covid storm together.

But now, with well-over 100 trips to the top and back?

It’s about thanking him for living life side-by-side through the thick and thin of it all, apologizing and accepting apologies, reflecting on a conflict on the way up so that we can resolve it on the way down, creating sacred rituals one footfall at a time, making new plans and jettisoning old ones, and navigating the slippery slopes and rocky terrain of life day in and day out. And for always carrying the bear spray.

In the beginning he was hiking the logging road because it was good for us. However, over time, all those trips up and down that road have become a metaphor for a life shared, and it is for that shared life that I am thankful.

And when we are thankful, it’s good to remember to say thank you.

“Thank you Tom.”

Empty Space

There is a story in the gospel of Matthew that is often referred to as the parable of the empty house. The upshot of the story is that there was a man possessed by a demon. The evil spirit is cast out and goes in search of a new place to call home and cause mayhem. Finding no place to lay its evil little head, it decides to go back from whence it came, and finds the house swept clean and empty. And empty space just begs to be filled.

The story continues.

Not only does the demon move back in, it goes and finds seven others more evil than itself to live there too, causing even more harm, distress, and ruin.

Regardless of one’s faith, this story seems especially relevant as the pandemic moves into our rearview mirror. We all have our own inner demons and causers of mayhem, and if you are like me, this has been a year of casting out and sweeping clean. Whether cleaning out closets or casting out old ways of thinking, clearing my calendar or curbing my consumption, there is empty space, And empty space just begs to be filled.

What that empty space gets filled with is up to me.

Are the thoughts, beliefs, habits, and activities that filled my life before the pandemic the ones I want to fill it with today?

If not, now is the time to choose. Before those causers of mayhem decide to move back in.

A Gathering Of Words

Life is nothing if not a maze of grace.

I’ve loved that gathering of words ever since it appeared on my page. Hanging together like good friends, they are at ease in one another’s company. Each word separate but intimately connected, the meaning greater than the sum of the its parts.

Life is the condition that distinguishes us as animate beings, it includes the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change, signifies our existence as a human being, and refers to our time here from birth until death.

In other words, life is kind of a big deal.

A maze is a complex, and sometimes confusing network of paths and hedges designed as a puzzle.

In other words, a maze challenges us to find our way through.

Grace is courteous goodwill, an extended period of time granted as a special favor, and unmerited or unearned favor.

In other words, grace is what helps us transcend our blunders.

Our time on the planet is our shot at becoming who we are meant to be and doing what we are here to do. There will be dead ends, unexpected detours, and wrong turns along the way. Treating ourselves and others with kindness and goodwill smooths the way for everyone.

In other words, life is nothing if not a maze of grace.

No wonder these words found their way to one another.