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
Our lives are made up of so many bits and pieces that it is easy to lose sight of the wholeness of it all. Not the perfection of it all, but the wholeness that is our life. Like a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle, each little piece contains a small fragment of the image that when put together will make the whole picture.
We, or at least I, get sidetracked by the small bits, forgetting that they are necessary to the whole. And in forgetting that they are necessary to the whole I let myself get swept up in frustration at what I’m not getting to, seeing things as interruptions to my day rather than integral to my day.
I forget that it all matters. I forget that the task at hand, the person on the other end of the phone, and the unexpected occurrence are all parts of the larger picture. They are all opportunities to show up fully and bring the best of myself to what, in that moment, is mine to do.
I forget that every emotion matters. I forget that there is as much to learn from the visitation of the hard emotions, the dark and painful ones, as there is from the gentle, shimmering, and delightful ones. That every one that comes knocking at my door has, as Rumi writes in The Guesthouse, been sent as a guide from beyond.
I forget that as Franciscan priest, author, and spiritual teacher Richard Rohr believes, everything belongs. Think about that for a moment. Everything belongs. Everything belongs. Everything belongs.
Everything.
What if we began to see everything that shows up at our doorstep as an invitation to become more of who we are meant to be?
What if we began to actually live into the truth that everything belongs.
It might just change everything.
Photo: pexels.com
With gratitude to Dane Anthony
On a whim last Sunday we took a detour on our way home from a weekend of hiking and camping. The potential of a long soak in hot mineral waters and a 30 minute linen wrap in the historic bathhouse at the Carson Hot Springs Resort sounded simply too good to pass up. Taking a chance that they would have tubs available for us we turned off the highway, and within a half an hour I was submerged in steaming hot water with a cold wash cloth on my head.
Not always one to be present to the moment, I made the choice, over and over again, to return to the sensation of the hot water on my skin, the cool touch of the wash cloth on my forehead, and the heat soaking into muscles that had worked hard to carry me safely up to the edge of the Mount St. Helens crater and back again. By the time my soak was done, I found myself squarely situated in the present moment. Thoughts about the past and any concerns about the coming week seemed to have drained away along with the water in the tub.
From the soak I headed into the quiet room lined with cots and covered with fresh linen sheets, found the one that was mine, and lay down. The sweet attendant asked what kind of wrap I preferred: tight, medium, or loose? I went with medium, opted for another cool cloth on my forehead, and a towel wrap over my head. For thirty minutes I didn’t even have to work at being present. There was no where else I wanted, or needed to be.
Almost asleep when my time was up I stood and slowly made my way toward the showers and couldn’t help but notice one of the other women in the room. Like me, she had come from a soak and was laying on her cot wrapped in a linen sheet. She didn’t however seem to be in the room at all, mesmerized as she was by her cell-phone. Watching as she clicked and scrolled and swiped, I couldn’t help but think about all of the times that I am anywhere but where I am. If not glued to my phone, then following the rabbit trails of thoughts, diving into one hole after another.
Granted, not every moment is a linen wrap after a hot soak, but the present moment is where we are meant to be. It is the place we are called to show up as fully and whole-heartedly as we can, over and over again. It takes practice, and some days it comes easier than others, but I hope to remember the contrast between those minutes in the tub and on that table, and all the times I find myself lost in the past or projecting myself into the future.
The only way to be squarely where we are is to choose, over and over again, to submerge ourselves in the present moment, soak it in and get completely wrapped up in it.
Driving home today after a weekend in the woods, storm clouds gathered in the sky ahead. There are times when that is what the beginning of a new week feels like. A storm is brewing and I’m headed right for it.
Maybe you can relate.
Part of me wanted to turn our car around and head back where we came. Away from our cell phones, the work waiting for us at home, and the addition of unexpected tasks to be completed. Then I noticed the car ahead of us pulling a small camper. A camper that was most likely equipped with the essentials needed to stay warm and dry, even in the midst of a storm.
Storms are a part of life, and we take them as they come. Sometimes we hunker down and wait for them to pass. But more often than not we head out, equipped to weather what we encounter, and come out the other side the better for it.
It’s true that there are real deadlines. As of April 15th our taxes must be filed or we need to request an extension. Ballots have to be dropped off or mailed by a certain time on election day. Credit card payments need to be made by the due date or interest is incurred. The football must be snapped within 40 seconds of the start of the play clock or it will result in a delay of game penalty. Some work deadlines must be met or there will be serious consequences.
It’s also true that there are imaginary deadlines. They are self imposed. We arbitrarily decide what has to be done by when as if there weren’t any other options. Earlier this week I had scheduled today as a “must prepare for some upcoming work” day. Nobody else thinks it has to be done today, and to be honest, nobody else will care when it is done as long as I’m prepared for the work by the time I do it. As it turns out, today is not the day to dive into that preparation. There are other things more pressing, and simple loose ends that once taken care of, will free up more mental, emotional, and creative space to not just prepare, but to prepare well. With the click of the mouse I moved the task out to another day on my calendar, and the pressure to just do it to get it done evaporated.
Let’s take a look at our calendars and do a fact check on our deadlines.
Are they real?
Or imaginary?
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
Making big decisions is rarely easy. Even small ones can give us pause as we worry about getting it wrong, making a mistake, missing an opportunity or getting stuck. There is no doubt that some decisions have bigger consequences than others and have the potential to impact us, and those we love, for years to come. Developing the ability to choose well takes practice. We learn by getting it right, and, by getting it wrong, and while we can never know if things will turn out as we plan and hope, and in fact will rarely if ever work out as we envision, we can decide what matters to us. We can identify the boxes that need to be checked in order to feel good about our choices.
Making a good decision starts with deciding who we are, what kind of person we want to be, what we want to get out of life and what we want to give back to life. It’s the decision to make before making the decision.
One of my pet peeves is people’s reluctance to RSVP to an invitation. It is like they are waiting to see if something better shows up before committing themselves. I should know because I’ve done that myself, but having thrown some pretty great shindigs in my day, I know firsthand that it’s hard to plan a good party when you don’t know who is going to show up.
Every morning arrives with a new invitation to bring who we are and what we have to offer to life’s party. Some times it’s harder than others to commit to the day at hand, and there are times when the best choice is to bow out and catch our breath. But every morning, the invitation is there, waiting for our response s'il vous plaît.
With or without us, the party is being planned. Are we in? Or out?
Photo by samaraagenstvo feeria from Pexels
We are all in need of grace. Or at least I am. I seem to get things wrong as often as I get them right, and what keeps me going is the grace I receive over and over and over again. Sometimes, however, it is easy to forget that everyone else is in as much need of grace as I am, and yet the ones who need it the most are often the ones I want to extend it to the least. Which is why it is fast becoming one of my most necessary spiritual practices.
Grace is a choice, and the harder the choice, the greater the grace.
Pixels.com
Chasing squirrels is high on Gracie’s to-do list any day of the week. Because she can’t safely be off-leash out in our neck of the woods, that makes actually chasing one a moot point. If she tries, as she did yesterday, forgetting that she is tethered to an old stump, she will get caught up short in very short order.
The thing is, the squirrels don’t know she is on a leash.
This morning a tree squirrel who calls our property home was afraid to make a run for the woods, never realizing that freedom was his for the taking. Flitting from branch to branch he chattered constantly, trying to scold and scare her away. She circled the tree, jumped up on the trunk of the tree, and sat by the tree, but no matter how much Gracie wanted to chase that squirrel down, her leash wouldn’t let her do it.
Sometimes I want to put my thoughts on a leash. You know the ones. The ones that chatter and scold and scare us and just won’t shut up. What if we put them on a leash and tethered them to an old stump? And when those thought show up chattering and scolding and scaring, we remember that no matter how much those thoughts want to chase us down, the leash on which we’ve put them won’t allow it.
Pick a thought, put it on a leash, tether it to a stump, and head out into the woods where freedom is ours for the taking.
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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