Believing Our Ears

When I was in college, a good way to clear my head and get reenergized for a long night of studying was to go for a nice long afternoon run. A favorite route was the trail that snaked its way around the edges of the par-3 golf course on campus.

There was one particular run, that I almost didn’t take, but am so glad that I did.

Living off campus in an apartment, I threw on my running clothes, hopped into my white 65 Mustang, and headed for the golf course. On the way there it started to rain, and by the time I parked the car, it was raining even harder.

Or so it sounded on the metal roof of my car.

The rain hitting that metal roof sounded like a torrential downpour. While not a fair-weather runner by any means, which one can’t be if one lives in the Pacific Northwest, the longer I sat there, the more reasons I came up with not to get out of the car. It would be too cold, too wet, too muddy on the course, and too much bother to deal with my wet running clothes back in our apartment with no washer and dryer. Not only that, it was raining even harder.

Or so it sounded on the metal roof of my car.

Just about to put the key in the ignition and head back home, I suddenly thought of all the reasons to get out of the car. After every run, I always felt better, and logging those three-miles left me with energy, clarity, and a more positive outlook. While I didn’t give in and start the car, I didn’t get out of it either, and, it was raining even harder.

Or so it sounded on the metal roof of my car.

I sat there for a few more minutes, pondering my dilemma. To run, or not to run? Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the door handle, stepped out of the car, and immediately found that the rain that sounded like a downpour was actually just a gentle spring rain. Cool and invigorating, the conditions were perfect for a run.

45 years later, I still remember the feel of the rain on my face, the good endorphins that come when we move our bodies, and, how glad I was that I didn’t let the sound of the rain, on the metal roof of my car, keep me from hitting the trail.

Sometimes it’s good not to believe our ears.

image: mustang dreams.com

Does It Have To Hit The Fan?

Little did we know when we brought Gracie-the chocolate-labradoodle into our home, that we were getting a four-legged, curly haired spiritual master. Kind of like our own personal Yoda. But cuter.

We learn from her all the time, and simply caring for her daily needs brings profound lessons. None more so than cleaning up her daily piles out in the yard. Because we are diligent to do so, we are not left with landmines to be avoided, or more likely, stepped in. Once stepped in, there is a whole lot more work to be done in order to clean things back up so as not to bring the un-dealt with shit into our home.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a darn good metaphor for life.

In real life, sometimes we procrastinate, neglect to clean up our messes, and just wait until it all hits the fan, at which point life gets a whole lot harder, not to mention messier. The nasty smelling stuff gets thrown all over anyone within striking distance, and there is a lot of clean up to do. But like little Gracie is teaching us, it happens, and when it does, it is so much easier to pick it up and deal with it, rather than leave it to accumulate.

When it comes to Gracie, we have a practice in place, and because we have committed to the practice, it has become a habit.

See the stuff.

Deal with the stuff.

Be done with the stuff.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds like another darn good metaphor for life.

See our stuff.

Deal with our stuff.

Be done with our stuff.

This, of course, isn’t a one and done deal. We will be cleaning up after ourselves for as long as we draw breath. But the stronger our commitment to the practice, the more deeply engrained the habit.

We can wait for the shit to hit the fan.

But it’s a whole lot easier to deal with if we don’t.

Whose Side Of The Fence?

Whenever we are in a relationship, there are times when there is work that needs to be done, and that work falls into three categories: yours, mine, and ours. A healthier order would be mine, yours, and ours, because when looking at the health and dynamics of our relationships, it’s best to start within.

Good questions to ask ourselves might be:

How have I contributed to the current state of this marriage/partnership/family dynamic/professional relationship/friendship/whatevership?

What am I doing to build or undermine trust and respect?

What do I need to communicate to the other person?

Do I need to seek forgiveness?

Have I clearly stated my needs?

Do I need to seek professional help to find my way to a healthier me?

What is mine to do?

What is on my side of the fence?

Starting there is always a win/win deal. No matter what the outcome of our own work, when done with curiosity, humility, courage, and integrity, we come out the side more fully formed as the person we are meant to be.

All that being said, not everything falls on our side of the fence. It is up to others to show up too, and hopefully they will. Sometimes that means doing their own work, and other times it means that we swing our gates open wide and inhabit the field of relationship building together.

Light For Dark Times

Years ago my dear friend Kristine and I were to lead a weekend retreat in the wine country of Northern California. The event fell through at the last minute, but the retreat we’d planned is still in my files. Today I pulled it up and revisited the message we had hoped to give all those years ago.

The words below, from Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, were ones we were going to read aloud on the last day, but we never got the chance.

I invite you to read them aloud today to all who would listen.

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My friends…do not lose heart. We were made for these times. I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world now. Ours is a time of almost daily astonishment and often righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to civilized, visionary people. 

In any dark time, there is a tendency to veer toward fainting over how much is wrong or un-mended in the world. Do not focus on that. There is a tendency, too, to fall into being weakened by dwelling on what is outside your reach, by what cannot yet be. Do not focus there. That is spending the wind without raising the sails. We are needed, that is all we can know. And though we meet resistance, we more so will meet great souls who will hail us, love us and guide us, and we will know them when they appear. Didn't you say you were a believer? Didn't you say you pledged to listen to a voice greater? Didn't you ask for grace? Don't you remember that to be in grace means to submit to the voice greater?

Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good. What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts, adding, adding to, adding more, and continuing. We know that it does not take everyone on Earth to bring justice and peace, but only a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale. 

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these—to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

Photo: Tom Pierson



There’s Still Time

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” - Gandalf

(The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien )

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I woke up yesterday morning with these words ringing in my ears...

There’s still time.

As there are only four more days left in 2018, it seemed to be a reminder not to squander those four sacred days. Days that I will never get back. At this point in the year it can be easy to simply coast until the calendar turns over to a new year, thinking “I’ll get to fill-in-the-blank next year.”.  I’m not advocating taking on a huge project, or missing out on quiet, leisurely days with friends and family.

But.

I am suggesting that for me, and perhaps for others, there are things to be tended to now rather than later.  

• A conversation to have. 
• A change of mindset.
• Letting go of an old story so as to begin the new year with a better one. 
• Forgiveness to be extended or received. 
• A commitment to be made. 
• A decision to be finalized. 
• Hatchets to bury. 
• A wound ready to heal into a scar. 
• A stake to put in the ground about the work you want to offer in the year ahead. 
• Grace to be offered.
• A question to consider. 
• Baggage to leave behind.
• ? 

There’s still time.

Old Dogs And New Tricks

“When the student is ready the teacher will appear.”

(Often attributed to The Buddha)

Gracie, our 12 week old chocolate labradoodle is turning out to be a great little teacher, and as it turns out, what works for dogs, can work for humans as well.

“What you pet, you get.”

I learned this concept from my daughter, whose two GSP/Labs are in training. So, on the one paw, if you want calm, happy behavior, you reward it when you see it. On the other paw, if your pup is whining and jumping, unless you want more of that behavior, don’t pat it on the head. Turn your back and simply ignore it. Over time, they will learn to let go of what is ignored, and hang on to what brings the reward.

Our brain often behaves like an unruly little puppy. Our anxious thoughts, old stories, and toxic self-talk show up, nipping at our heels, but rather than turn our backs on them, we often reward them with our attention. Racing around our brains, they proceed to chew up all of the energy we could be using to take positive steps, leaving us weary, discouraged, and stuck. The brain will always gravitate to what is familiar, and the more we focus on those negative messages, the more they sink their teeth into our psyche.

What if we trained our brain the way we train a puppy?

The next time one of those old stories shows up, what if we turned our back on it? Pretended it was a canine looking to us for guidance, ignored that toxic thought, and rewarded ourselves by offering a new story. One that would free us from our self-imposed kennel. Over time, we might learn to let go of what is ignored, and hang on to what brings the reward.

Whoever said an old dog can’t learn new tricks?

Hanging The Antlers

Today is the fourth Sunday in Advent, ushering in the theme of Love, which, as it turns out, can show up in the most unlikely places.

Last summer my brother Peter gave me a fabulous set of elk antlers from one of his annual hunting trips to Montana. I’ve wanted a set for the cabin for years, and now that I had them, I knew exactly where I wanted to hang them. There was no other place for them to go but up above our fireplace, over the mantle in the middle of the rock covered chimney. It was a placement that would make Ralph Lauren and Joanna Gaines swoon.

I asked Tom if he would be able to hang them there, and he said that he thought he could.

Perfect.

I began to imagine those long desired antlers in their new home, with a fire blazing and candles glowing on the mantle.

A couple of months passed and the antlers hung out in our laundry room. I knew my husband had a lot on his plate, so wasn’t worried that they wouldn’t eventually find their way onto the rock. It never occurred to me that Tom might have a different opinion. Until one Sunday morning over coffee when I asked him if he thought he could get them up that day. After a long pause, he finally told me he didn’t like the spot I had chosen, and he didn’t want to hang them there. What? He’d never shared that with me in all the conversations we’d had about the antlers. I was frustrated and mad, especially since I’d spent so much time imagining them up there, and I wasn’t going to give up the fight easily. Neither however, was he. He suggested some of the areas he’d thought of, none of which (of course) were acceptable to me. We were at loggerheads, and the antlers were still in the laundry room.

Somewhere along the way I remembered a therapist we’d worked with, and here’s what she would have had to say. I don’t care about the antlers or where you hang them. Hang them anywhere you want. Upside down in the bathroom, over your bed, on the rock fireplace, or inside your closet. What I do care about, is once those antlers are up, are you two better as a couple or not? Do you understand and respect one another more, or not. Are you closer and more intimately connected, or not?

It’s not about the antlers.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, our relationship was more important than those silly antlers. Once we each let go of having to have it our way, we found an even better (of course) spot for the antlers. Tom hung them today, and I love them right where they are. We both do.

When it comes to love, it’s not about the antlers.

This Is The Day

This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

The alarm went off at 5AM this morning. Opening my still sleepy eyes, this was the image that greeted me through our window.

The first words that came to mind were those of the writer of the words from the book of Psalms quoted above. Grabbing my phone I stepped out into the cold early morning air, the frozen grass crunching beneath my feet, and captured the image of the moon as it set, ushering in the morning of a new day.

Walking back into the house it dawned on me, again, that this day, like every day, is a gift. It is the day that has been given to us, and it is the day in which we can choose to rejoice.

Or not.

The Psalmist doesn't say, “Tomorrow is the day” or “Someday, or another day, or yesterday” She (or he for that matter) says, “This is the day”. He (or she for that matter) doesn’t say, “We are rejoicing” or “We should rejoice” or “We might, could, must, or will try to rejoice.” The Psalmist says, “We will rejoice and be glad in it.”

Rejoicing is a choice. A commitment to find a way to be glad in this day which has been given to us. It is the only one we have. The day before is gone, and the day ahead not promised. It is only this day in which we can choose to rejoice.

Or not.

As I look around the world that is within my reach (and don’t even get me started on the world at large), on any given day there is at least as much heartache as there is happiness, as much pain as there is peace, and as many problems as there are solutions. It is in the midst of the complexity of our very human lives that we are called to rejoice.

This is the day that has been given to us.

Will we rejoice in it?

Or not?

The choice is ours.

Choosing Joy

Entering this third week of Advent and its theme of Joy, I am struggling to unpack this tiny word. It feels so important, and so universal to the longings of our human hearts, and yet it so hard to describe.

It’s kind of like happiness. But not exactly.

Happiness is more like a state of mind, while joy is a state of being.

Happiness happens to us, while joy happens inside of us.

Happiness comes and goes, while joy can take up permanent residence.

Happiness depends on outside circumstances, while joy is an inside job.

Maybe joy is both a choice and a practice. Life is hard, and will always be a mixture of the good, the bad, and the seriously ugly, but in the midst of it all, I am learning that I can choose joy anyway. I can practice joy no matter what.

Rather than try and unpack its meaning, maybe I’ll just wrap my arms around this tiny word and hold on for dear life.

Want to join me?

Tiny Joy Vase: Beanpole Pottery

Peace Out

As it turns out, maintaining inner peace is no piece of cake. After writing yesterday about Choosing Peace, I woke up with the best of intentions. I read in my morning book, Into The Magic Shop by James Doty, learning about how to breathe your body into a state of peaceful calm. After that, I spent some time in meditation, got ready to go the gym, and had our sacred morning hug with my husband. As far as I could tell, I was choosing peace, peace, and more peace.

Then it all went to hell in a hand basket.

Over what kind of laundry detergent to purchase.

My husband at one end of the counter with his list of the most effective products à la Consumer Reports, me on the other end listing out my environmental concerns. It wasn’t one of my finer moments when I accused him of being “fastidious” to a fault, and, I had to add, at the expense of our planet, not to mention our daughters who care about such things.

Peace was out, frustration was in.

As far as I could see in that moment either one cared about the environment, or one did not. Which is precisely where the problem lay; either-or-thinking. Once my feet were firmly planted in needing to be right, it became about winning or losing, and it’s hard to find peace in the midst of a battle.

To be clear, maintaining an inner sense of peace doesn’t mean going along to get along, or acting conciliatory to avoid conflict. But peace is a shelter that can be found in the midst of almost any storm, and thankfully, by the time I got home from the gym, I’d found my way back there.

When we resumed our conversation I discovered, as it turns out, that one can both care about the environment and clean laundry.

Peace out.

✌️