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.

Time's A Wastin'

Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest. And the only way an idea can be made manifest in our world is through collaboration with a human partner. It is only through a human’s efforts that an idea can be escorted out of the ether and into the realm of the actual.

~ Elizabeth Gilbert: Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

For the past year, or more if I’m being completely honest, several ideas have diligently knocked on my inner doorstep. I’ve tried to ignore them, have pretended no one was at home, and peeked through the shutters to see if they are still there. They are, and I’ve yet to invite them in. If not careful, one day I will check on them only to find that they have moved on, my resolve to finally collaborate with them regretfully too little and too late.

I know the power of an idea that suddenly strikes, and the magic that happens when we accept its invitation. Shit gets done. People’s lives are touched, usually none more than ours, and we have the chance to share our gifts with the world. And yet, acting on an idea when it makes itself known continues to be a growing edge. I’ve learned first hand the energy, courage, and grit required to see an idea through, and the regret that will haunt me if I don’t.

As Joaquin and Reese crooned in Walk The Line, time’s a wastin’, and with only 25 more days left in the year I’ve decided to throw open the door, invite those ideas in, and see what kind of trouble we can get into together. I’ll keep you posted.

Any ideas knocking on your door?

Time’s a wastin’.

Photo: Pexels

Doing What Makes Sense

Yesterday I spent some time by myself getting everything out of my head and down onto paper. It took several pages.

Today my plan was to begin working on some of those things. Things like creating a writing calendar for the upcoming year, and developing some ideas to be used with clients, in workshops, and for upcoming speaking engagements. It quickly became clear my brain simply wasn’t ready to think in creative and expansive ways, and that attempting to tackle any of those today made no sense.

At first I felt bad about that. Like I was somehow failing myself and my work. However, rather than hit the couch to watch the entire last season of Man In The High Castle, I glanced back over my list from the previous day to see if there was anything there that did make sense to do today given the condition of my non-creative, non-expansive brain.

There was.

Clean and organize the pantry.

It took about three hours. Moving slowly and putting things in order felt like meditation. And just like the orderly pantry shelves, my thoughts began to settle into place, and my creative, expansive brain that had gone missing showed up, ready for me to reach for it another day.

Whenever possible, doing what makes sense makes good sense.

Practicing Love

In his latest book (The Great Spiritual Migration: How The World’s Largest Religion Is Seeking A Better Way To Be Christian), Brian McLaren suggests that we need to learn the practical skills necessary to love well, starting with those closest to us. When those skills are practiced at home they can then be put to use out in the world with others.

His is an extensive list, and to my mind, there isn’t one that isn’t worth the effort. And, because the list is so expansive it might feel a little daunting to you as it does to me, so rather than take it all on at once, pick a few that beckon to you. Or maybe better yet, ask those near and dear to you which ones they would love to see you practice, which btw is practicing skills 7, 17, and 18.

1. Common Courtesies

2. Gratitude

3. Admitting Weaknesses & Failures

4. Self-Reporting Emotions

5. Expressing Hurt & Disappointment

6. Confronting & Forgiving

7. Asking For Help

8. Differing Graciously

9. Surfacing & Negotiating Competing Desires

10. Taking The First Step To Resolve Conflict

11. Upholding Wise Boundaries

12. Saying Yes & No

13. Winning & Losing Graciously

14. Creating Win-Win Outcomes

15. Speaking Truth In Love

16. Speaking Truth To Power

17. Asking Good Questions

18. Requesting Feedback

19. Expressing Affection

20. Opening One’s Heart

21. Giving Gifts

22. Seeking Wise Counsel

What better gift to give to ourselves, and to those we love this holiday season, than to diligently, humbly, and intentionally practice the skills of love. Love is, after all, the gift that keeps on giving.

Photo by Ylanite Koppens from Pexels

Shedding Our Skin

There is a good chance that most of us have stumbled upon an old snake skin. It looks like the snake simply slithered out of the old skin, leaving it in one piece, a remnant of life before the new skin appeared. One of the reasons snakes shed their skin is to make room for further growth. The shedding of their skin is necessary because while their body continues to grow, their skin does not, and in order to accommodate the growth that has occurred, new skin is required.

Have you ever had the experience of slipping into your old skin? The one that served you once, but no longer does? While it might feel tight and a bit constrictive, there is a familiarity about it that, for the moment, feels comforting. We know that old skin. We remember that old skin. We even miss that old skin because becoming more of who we are meant to be means risking being in the world in new ways that are anything but familiar.

We humans do the same thing. We shed our skins too, just in smaller increments. A reminder that the skin held us together in the past is too small to contain us now.

Photo: Pexels.com

Unloading The Wheelbarrow

It is easy to treat our mind like a mental wheelbarrow. One that we fill to the brim with issues, and our thoughts and feelings about those issues, all of which require precious mental and emotional energy as we carry them with us wherever we go. Rather than taking the time to actually do something about the contents of the wheelbarrow, we just keep wheeling them through our days.

If you’re like me, almost anything is fair game to pile into the cart. On any given day my cart might be piled high with relationship issues, conversations past, present and future, financial concerns, heartaches, challenges to those we love, health issues, politics, global warming, aging skin, unfinished projects, the NFL Playoffs, and the holidays. Just to name a few.

One of the best practices we can develop is to lighten our own mental load. To stop pushing the wheelbarrow, take out one thing, and deal with it. Find out about it. Understand the truth about it, and with that understanding do what we can to take care of it.

To lighten your mental load, what is one thing you can take out of your wheelbarrow?

Photo by Johannes Plenio from Pexels

Life Decisions

Some days I listen in to The Next Right Thing Podcast with Emily P. Freeman. She introduces it the same way every Tuesday by reminding her listeners that while it is a podcast about making decisions, it is also a podcast about making a life.

Those few words inspire me every time, and are a reminder that the decisions we make create the life we have.

Like A Hawk

In front of our home there is an expanse of open field that stretches out toward the mountain. Trees are scattered around the perimeter, and on any given day It is likely that you will find one of the many hawks that call our little valley home perched on the top of one of those trees. From that vantage point they are able to scan the entire field for possible prey. These sharp eyed birds don’t spend all of their time on a tree top, nor do they endlessly fly about in search of their next meal. They seem to know that in order to survive, it is necessary to get a good look at the bigger picture before heading out to do what hawks do.

When it comes to us humans, we could take a lesson from these birds of prey. It is easy to get so caught up in our daily rounds that we forget to take time to pull back and get the big picture view. We simply go and do. Go and do. And, go and do some more.

Any free space on our calendars gets filled by the next request, because rather than pause and head to a nearby treetop, we swoop in on the date and time, and if it’s open, we let the next commitment snatch it up. Simply doing something because we can isn’t necessarily a reason to do it.

If we want to spend our days and expend our energy on who and what we value, we have to learn to pull back and get a hawk’s-eye view of the field that is our life.

Photo by Harrison Haines from Pexels

Addressing "It"

Worry and anxiety are voracious energy consumers. They live in the thoughts that wake us up at 2am in the darkness, gnaw at us through the day, and like the news feed at the bottom of a TV screen, relentlessly assault our attempts to stay grounded and focused. If we can isolate those sources of worry and anxiety, clearly identify them, and begin to address them one by one...just imagine the mental, emotional, and creative bandwidth that would be available to us.

What are your current sources of worry and anxiety?

Choose just one.

Perhaps that one that if you could take care of whatever it is, or at least get it to a place that it no longer consumes your thoughts and fuels your fears, you would have more room to breathe. Be able to think more clearly and creatively.

Break it down.

Attack it piece by piece.

You may not be able to totally resolve the issue or complete the task, but making headway in the right direction gets you one step closer.

And just imagine the mental, emotional, and creative bandwidth that will be available to you.

Photo by Ylanite Koppens from Pexels

Shake A Stick At It

It was a cold, wet, dark, drizzly morning in our little neck of the woods. But rain or shine, Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle needs to get outside and get some exercise, and frankly, so do I.

Heading out it didn’t feel like there was much joy in the air, and to be sure, there are days when joy can be hard to come by. Part way down our road we came upon a downed branch from a nearby tree. It was almost twice as long as Gracie with smaller branches sticking out all over, and my thought was to toss it off to the side of the road out of the way of cars. Just throw it away, be done with it, and check the walk-the-dog-in-spite-of-the-cold-wet-dark-drizzly-joyless morning off of my list.

Gracie, however, had a different idea.

She grabbed that stick by one of the branches and took off at full tilt. She shook it this way, and then that way. Head held high, tail up in the air, she pranced up the road, raced in circles, lost her grip on the branch, and snatched it up again. Shaking a stick at the cold, wet, dark, drizzly morning, up and down the road she pranced, around and around the field she raced. She just simply wouldn’t, or more likely couldn’t, quit. She was brown, curly haired joy from tip to tail. Pretty soon, so was I—minus the curly brown hair and tail. Joy, it seems, is contagious.

Rather than shake our fist at a dark day, maybe we can try being like Gracie, and shake a joyful stick at it instead.