Elder + Connector + Writer
There are two types of energy with which we can meet the world.
Aspirational or Oppositional.
We can extend our efforts to achieve what we envision, work for a desired outcome, and move toward our aspirations.
Or.
We can extend our efforts to prevent what we dread, work against unwanted outcomes, and move away from what we fear.
The former is built on hope, the latter on fear.
Are you working for what you want, or against what you don’t?
Pixels.com
Fall is my favorite time of the year. I love the quality of the light, the chill in the air, and the gradual shortening of the days. It is also a gentle reminder that we are not here forever. That our time on earth is limited, and that it is up to us to decide what we will sow in the service of what we hope to harvest.
While autumn doesn't officially begin until September 23rd, it feels like summer is over. School is back in session, summer vacations are a memory, and there are four months left before a new year begins. It seems to be a time of invitation to bring a little more structure to our days, and to consider what we hope to create and bring to life in what remains of the year. To reflect once again on what matters, and channel our energies in that direction.
As Annie Dillard says, How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. As summer once again gives way to autumn, let’s take time to consider how we want to spend our days.
Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels
In my tradition, today, on the seventh Sunday after Easter, we celebrate Pentecost, remembering the story of the Holy Spirit descending on those gathered in the name of the Carpenter, to celebrate the Jewish festival of Shavuot. The Spirit sounded like a fierce wind, and looked like tongues of fire. According to the story, those there felt themselves so filled with the Spirit of the Holy that they were able to speak in new languages.
There are days when I long to speak in a new language. One that blesses those who hear it. One that reflects the image of the One in whom we are all created. One that offers the message that has been true since before the beginning of time. A language that says to all, you are loved, you are seen, and you belong.
But man is that hard some days.
It has been windy around our home this week, and the sound of the wind in the pines is nothing if not the Spirit of the Holy, reminding me that Pentecost isn’t a one-and-done deal, but an ongoing story that is meant to be lived again, and again, and again. Today as we head to our church wearing red to symbolize those flaming tongues of fire, to gather again in the name of the Carpenter, I want to remember that that new language isn’t new at all. Our first language, it is as old as the wind that blows through the pines, and it is right on the tip of my tongue waiting to be heard in a world more thirsty for the message than ever.
You are loved.
You are seen.
You belong.
You do not need to know
precisely what is happening,
or exactly where it is all going.
What you need is to recognize the possibilities
and the challenges offered by the present moment,
and to embrace them with
courage, faith, and hope.
Thomas Merton
There is, it seems, always an open invitation from life, even in the midst of bittersweet endings and uncharted beginnings. The invitation isn’t to somewhere else, but to be fully where we are, for it is from here that we must ground ourselves to take the next right step. And the next, and the next, and the next.
Endings of any sort mean the letting go of what has been and the leaving behind of what we’ve known, which, if we let it, will lead to the melding of gratitude and grief into the precious metal of grace. The deeper the gratitude and the more profound the grief, the longer we may need to linger at the threshold between what has been and what will be. These are the days of intentional packing, intentional goodbyes, and intentional moving on. There will be days when we can only pause and rest, and others when we must forge ahead regardless of how weary we feel.
Whether the selling of the longtime home in which we’ve raised a family, the retirement from a meaningful career, the fading of a vision that cannot be brought to life, the loss of a breast, or the ending of a relationship that cannot live up to the commitments made, the invitation is to stay fully engaged in life. Right here. Right now. Trusting that the ground beneath our feet will hold, as it has, as it is, and as it will.
There is a big difference between a house and a home. A house is a structure. A framework within which we live, and what can be seen on the exterior says little about what goes on in the interior. From the outside, a house doesn’t give away much about what happens inside the home, and like many things, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Having sold a house a time or two (five to be more precise), I know that location matters. Some neighborhoods are more desirable than others depending on our preferences, and most of us tend to buy into the best area that we can afford. When putting a house on the market, in order to distinguish ours from others that are similar, sellers are encouraged to create street appeal for potential buyers, and to stage the inside so that they can see themselves living within its walls. But location, street appeal and staging do not a home make.
Or a life for that matter.
When I set out to write a book a few years ago, I did it because it was the next right thing to do. I was compelled to write BLUSH: Women & Wine not to become rich and famous, but to discover why I had come to depend upon wine as a coping mechanism to soften the blows of my own life, and to invite my readers to embark on their own exploration with me. Yet the temptation was there, and sometimes still is, to make the book and my work look good out in the world, rather than using the book and my work to do good out in the world. I am often more easily enticed to sign up for another course to learn how to create a more successful platform instead of standing on the platform that I have and telling the story to those ready to hear it.
It can be easy to get caught up striving to situate ourselves in the right place, be seen with the right people, and surrounded by the right stuff. We develop an image that will appeal to those we seek to impress, and stage our lives to appear accomplished and successful. There is nothing wrong with working to cast ourselves and what we have to offer in the best light, but that is exterior window dressing to the real work of shining a light inside the walls of our life. The work of coming to know ourselves and our vocation, of cultivating our gifts and honing our craft. For only when we do that will we find ourselves at home in our own life, and it is only from there that we are able to step out into the world and offer what is uniquely ours to give.
When it comes to real estate it might be about location, location, location, but when it comes to real life, it is about vocation, vocation, vocation.
How often do you wake up in the morning and hope someone asks Do you mind if I give you some feedback? For most of us, those words rarely lead us to think that someone has something awesome to share with us. We generally prepare ourselves to hear something that shines a light on our shortcomings, failures, or mis-steps, and the truth is, sometimes, ok, many times, it does highlight something that we didn’t see ourselves, but wish we had.
This morning, after reading my latest blog post (Sunday School) which talked about the biblical story of creation and what it might tell us about ourselves, my husband Tom asked if he could share his perspective with me.
Umm. Sure.
“If someone didn’t know your theology, they might think that you believe that the world was literally created in six days. They might not understand that you were saying that the story is meant to point us to a much deeper truth.” My first response was that he hadn’t read it carefully enough, and then I remembered who it was that was offering me the gift of his feedback. As a scientist and a writer himself, he is a careful reader, and, he is also one of my most trusted voices. When he speaks, I (generally) try and listen, so took a deep breath and asked him to tell me more.
In my mind I had specifically written that piece to point to a deeper truth, not as theological commentary on anyone’s understanding of a powerful story of creation. I wrote it to encourage each of us to take seriously the unique errand upon we have been sent. To remind us that when we do the work we are called to do, and share the gifts that are ours to share, we can look upon all that we have done, and see that it is good. Just as the Creator does in the story. That was my point. Tom’s point was that readers might get wrapped up in a theological debate and miss the point altogether. It would have only taken a little more effort on my part to provide some context for my readers. To set the table a bit better before inviting them to partake of the offering.
It’s never fun to feel like we’ve missed the mark, and yet missing it is the only way we can improve our marksmanship. Whether as a writer, speaker, teacher, or coach, the only way I can get better is through honest feedback from trusted sources. The same holds true for all of us. In order to become more of who we are meant to be, to live into our fullness, and yes, to reflect the image of the creative power behind everything, we need to hear from others what they see in us that we cannot see in ourselves. Feedback is always a gift, not because it is always accurate or right or deserved, but because it provides a perspective other than our own, and helps us better understand how we are showing up in the world.
Whether that world took 6 days to create, or 4.6 billion years.
Photo: Pixabay
Genesis 1:31
In the biblical story, the world was created a day at a time, each day bringing more and more of the world into being. At the end of the day, the great Creator looked out over that which had been made and saw that it was good.
On the sixth day, in which all living creatures that dwell on the earth were brought forth, God went one step further and created humankind in God’s own image, giving to us stewardship of all that had been created. At the end of that day, the great Creator didn’t simply call what had been made good…but very good.
On the seventh day, there was no more to do. The Creator’s work was finished and that day was declared a day of rest. A holy day of rest.
Made in the image of the Creator, when we choose to live as a reflection of that from which we came, to be good stewards of all that has been entrusted to us, at the end of the day we will be able to look out over what we have done, and see that it is good.
Every now and then, we can even see that is very good.
And when we’ve given all we have to that which is ours to do, we can take time to rest, knowing that to rest is holy.
Amen.
Let it be so.
Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.
Albert Einstein
Today on a hike through a lush and fertile forest on the coast of Washington, I remembered a few things best not forgotten.
Everything and everyone are connected.
While we often live as if we are separate from one another, in the end, whether we flourish or perish, we will do so together.
Life springs from death.
When we are gone, what we have left behind will be the ground from which new life takes root.
The future will always be uncertain.
While we can’t see into the future, walking the path that is ours is the only way to create the one we envision.
Nothing informs better than a walk on the wild side.
Last evening I met with a fellow coach for a glass of wine. We don’t know one another well, and while she is at the beginning of her coaching work and I am further down the trail, we share a commitment to helping and supporting others find their way forward. Wanting to know more about my experience, she asked me to describe the work I love to do. Here’s what I told her…
I love to help others step more fully into their own lives and find their way to a life that is authentic, wholehearted, and utilizes their gifts and strengths in service to others. Whether working with a coaching client, leading a retreat, or speaking to an audience, I share some form of the same message—we are all called to help, heal, and love the world that is within our reach in ways that are uniquely ours. Whether that is as a dog trainer, artist, school custodian, greeter at Costco, football coach, volunteer firefighter, campground host, restaurant manager, pastor, yoga teacher, musician, stay-at-home parent, gas station attendant, retiree, logger, brain surgeon, production line worker, or politician, when we truly connect who we meant to be at our core with how we live out in the world, we touch the world in ways that no one else can.
Her question gets to the heart of the matter. What is the work you love to do? Even if you aren’t currently doing it, or maybe never have, what is the contribution you want to make while still on the planet?
If you don’t do it, it won’t get done.
If I don’t do it, it won’t get done.
If we don’t do it, it won’t get done.
Let’s do it!
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?
MOLLY DAVIS is the founder of Trailhead Coaching & Consulting. She writes about lessons and adventures from the trail, and knows from firsthand experience that sometimes the only way to discover where you want to be, is to get lost where you don't. If you enjoyed this post, please feel free to pass it along.
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