Being Available

"It's a transformative experience to simply pause instead of immediately fill up the space. By waiting, we begin to connect with fundamental restlessness as well as fundamental spaciousness." 

-Pema Chodron,  - When Things Fall Apart

Being available matters to me. A lot. That means being available to those I love and care about, to those with whom I cross paths, to those to whom I may be able to offer help and support, to my work, and, to myself. Being available means I have the time and space to listen deeply, respond thoughtfully, and connect meaningfully. Being available means having a sense of spaciousness in my heart and around my time. I want to be the kind of person who is available. Lately, I'm not.

Somehow this year I've let my time get so filled up that I can hardly catch my breath. Lately, I've had more than a few conversations with friends and family that start  like this:

"I know you are really busy right now...

"I haven't wanted to bother you...

"When your schedule eases up...

"I hate to ask you, but...

"When things slow down for you...

I hate being that person. You know, the one that is too busy, too overcommitted, too overwhelmed, too swamped, too stressed, too buried, too..... 

But lately, that's who I've become. It is a challenge to keep up with phone calls, emails, and even texts, whether from those near and dear, or those a bit beyond the inner circle. Time to get together is a rare commodity. The work I want to focus on gets squished into little slivers of time that don't allow for the kind of spacious thinking that work requires. Time to myself feels like a luxury. The practices that fuel my tank, like quiet early morning hours, meditation, exercise, and time with "my people" are in short supply. I feel like I am perpetually running on empty, and those that I want to be available for can feel it too. 

What isn't empty is my calendar. Even though it is filled almost exclusively with people and things I care deeply about, life feels flooded with commitments. I seem to have gotten into the habit of filling a day or an hour if I see that it is open. When someone asks "Can you?" I look at that specific block of time, and if it's empty, I answer, "Why yes I can.", never thinking to look up or down stream before jumping in. 

While yesterday's commitments may be water under the bridge, it's time to lower the floodgates and slow the flow of the days ahead. 

Just because there is empty space on my calendar doesn't mean I have to fill it. 

Just because someone asks doesn't mean I have to say yes. 

Just because I've done it in the past doesn't mean I have to now.

Just because it needs to be done doesn't mean it is mine to do.

Just because I can doesn't mean I have to. 

But if I am available...maybe I will.

For those of you who have felt my lack of availability, please forgive me. You matter more than I can say.

3-2-1

At the conclusion of a workshop, I always give the participants what I like to call a "mandatory-optional" exercise, in which I give them the opportunity to consider what they've discovered during the course of our work together, what they will do with it, and who can help them. 

However.

There is such a tendency for people to leave thinking that they are going to be able to apply everything they've learned. Which they won't.

There is such a tendency to imagine that once back at their work, or in the midst of their families, they will remember everything we've talked about. Which they won't.

There is such a tendency to think that asking for help is a sign of weakness, and even if they know it isn't, they believe that they will be able to manage it all on their own. Which they won't.

They have the best of intentions for putting life back together differently with their new insights and information. They are energized by the thought that doing things differently will acually make a real difference. But without giving some thought to what to do once life outside the workshop doors engulfs them, they are pretty much guaranteed to lose most, if not all, of that newfound information and insight.

Thus, the "mandatory optional" exercise. They are given time to reflect on, identify,  and write down the following:

THREE meaningful things I have learned or discovered today are:

TWO specific action steps I will take are:

ONE person who can help me stay accountable is:

And you know what? They always, always, always know how to answer those questions. 

Now, I know that you and I haven't just spent the day in a workshop together, but I'll bet you can answer those same three questions (posed just a bit differently) for your life right now. Sometime today (maybe even right now before whatever is left of your day gets away from you), give yourself some space to reflect on, identify, and write down your answers to the following questions:

THREE meaningful-essential things (ideas, beliefs, commitments, values,) that I need to remember and stay connected to are:

TWO specific action steps I will take on my own behalf are:

ONE person who can help me stay accountable is:

Trust the answers that show up on your page. Always. Always. Always.

3-2-1 Go!

Autocorrect

"Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom."

~Victor E. Frankl

Recently I received a lovely text from a new reader of BLUSH: Women & Wine. She raved about it, and thanked me for writing it. It was the kind of text that makes your day. Replying back immediately I texted "Thank you from the bottom of my heart..". Thankfully, I took the time to re-read my text before sending it, and realized that it had autocorrected to "Thank you from the bottles of my heart." Not sure if there was some sort of  genie-in-the-bottle magic going on, but after I stopped laughing, I changed it back and sent it. 

That crazy little text exchange got me thinking about the whole idea of autocorrection. Installed on our smart phones, this application is intended to increase efficiency and accuracy. Over time it seems that the app on my phone has gotten to know me and what I am thinking, and it often completes the words before I've had the chance to finish writing them. (Perpetual note to self - always check texts before sending. Especially after a glass of wine.) 

We have an autocorrect application installed on our own inner hardware. It is programmed to autocorrect our thoughts, inner dialogues, and internal responses to external messages, and it does this so quietly and quickly that we don't even notice. Someone asks us a question and we hear it as criticism. We receive a compliment on our appearance, and it gets transposed into self-judgement about our own bodies. A friend shares a hurt or a problem, and we hear that it is our hurt to soothe or problem to fix.

A few recent examples from my own inner text stream:

My husband asks me if I've remembered to leave money for the wonderful woman who cleans our house, and I hear him questioning my management of the situation. 

At the end of a workshop, the client asks me if I'm going to facilitate the upcoming one, and I hear her hoping for someone better to show up the next time.

I hear from a friend how great I look, and I think how grateful I am that spandex leggings hide a multitude of sins.

An adult daughter shares something hard or painful in her life and my thoughts are: A) How can I fix it? B) It must be my fault. C) If I were a better mother, she wouldn't have to deal with this. Or, of course, there is always my personal favorite - D) All of the above.

Left unnoticed, our autocorrect apps receive regular updates that are programmed by our long held but rarely questioned beliefs, and our old stories that we retell but never rewrite. Those beliefs and stories are embedded deeply enough that we don't even see them. We just believe them. It is amazing how quickly our thoughts autocorrect into life-limiting messages of self-judgement, shame, fear, and doubt, and are then transmitted with blazing hi-speed inner-net access.

Time to uninstall the app.

Here is what is working for me, and maybe it will for you too. It all starts with awareness. To get rid of autocorrect I have to quit living in auto-pilot, so I am working to catch myself in the act of sending all too familiar but unexamined messages on my inner web. Catching myself in the act gives me just enough space to catch my breath before hitting the send button. In that space there is an opportunity to send myself life-giving messages of grace, love, courage and truth.

It kind of feels like old-school dial-up. 

Kick The Can

"Start close in,
don’t take
the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take."

~David Whyte - River Flow: New and Selected Poems

Whenever I work with clients who are in any kind of management or leadership capacity, we often talk about the complexity of working with people. We all agree that whenever things go well, it has everything to do with people, relationships, and communication. We all agree that whenever things go poorly, it has everything to do with people, relationships,  and communication. Whether personally or professionally, we know that people, relationships, and communication make all the difference, and yet, most of our common tendencies, are to put off, avoid, dismiss, reframe, and/or ignore any and all challenging (difficult, scary, emotionally charged, conflictual, confrontational, painful, fill-in-your-own blank) situations. We'll deal with it another day. Hope it will go away. Pretend it isn't there. Leave it to the next person to deal with. Put another way, we play a grown up version of Kick The Can with everything  and everyone we'd rather not deal with, but deep down know that we should. The can gets kicked down the road, we run and hide, and hope whatever "it" is, whoever "they" are, won't seek us out and find us. 

It never works.

Think big picture, and global warming, water shortages, plastic islands in the ocean, and a crumbling infrastructure hit awfully close to home. Shrink it down, and the evidence of cans kicked down the road are as close as our own homes. Unresolved issue and unspoken words, unhealed wounds and unforgotten offenses, unasked forgiveness and untended relationships, underfunded savings accounts and maxed out credit cards, unorganized photos and unanswered phone calls and emails (you know the ones I mean).

It's taken me a long time to learn, but ignoring the issue and avoiding the hard yet sacred work of staying in conversation with and in relationship to the people that are ours to love, the inner work that is ours to do, the issues that are ours to resolve, the wounds that are ours to heal, the conversations that are ours to have, the forgiveness that is ours to ask, and the forgiveness that is ours to extend, only kicks those cans further down our road.

I know which cans are mine, and I'll bet you know which ones are yours.

Which ones would you like to be rid of? 

Which one could you focus on first?

Who can help you open your can and deal what's inside? 

Kicking a can further down the road only means finding a bigger can of worms around the next bend.

PS - I will probably kick organizing my thousands and thousands and thousands of family photos further down the road. I'll just have to go buy a much bigger can first. 

Photo: Tom Pierson

A Flaming Mystic: Practicing the Presence

One of my favorite podcasts is On Being , hosted by Krista Tipett. She is one of the best interviewers out there, and one of my favorite episodes was her conversation with Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen, a physician working in the field of integrative medicine. Dr. Remen was speaking about her grandfather, a man who had profoundly shaped her life and view of the world. He was an Orthodox rabbi who studied the Kabbalah. She referred to him as a "flaming mystic", and went on to clarify what she meant by that term. Paraphrasing here, she said that her grandfather viewed the world as a place that was inhabited by a Presence, One with whom we could be in constant communication. We could daily, constantly, be in conversation with this abiding Presence by speaking to and asking of, and be directly spoken to and asked of right back. I LOVE that view of the world, it is one that I share, and, one that I all too often forget. In the midst of my days it is easy to imagine that I am out here on my own, forgetting that I'm connected to life in deep and mysterious ways that are as real as real can be.  

The word mystic can be scary to some as it might suggest a connection to some sort of magic or  "new age nonsense". To others, the term can seem foolish as it is not grounded in scientific fact and hard evidence. I wonder if looking at the  word in either of those ways shortchanges us of some of the riches that life wants to offer. Personally, I believe that we are all, every single one of us, created in the image of a magnificent God. That the creative force behind all of life is present around us and in us, and wants to work with and through us. Every. Single. One. Of. Us. I believe that we are all here to live our most authentic and whole-hearted lives. And, I believe we are all here to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach. Weaving those three beliefs together is where the magic happens. Connected to the Source, we become a source of healing and helping in the world in our own authentic and whole-hearted way. 

You may or may not agree with Rabbi Remen. But what if, just for the heck of it, we all tried on a mystic hat for size. Wake up in the morning and connect with that magnificent Presence, by speaking to and asking of, and then listening for the response. Perhaps we will find that the voice that speaks back to us is as close as our own hearts.

Photo: Brad Hannon

Friend or Foe? Part II: Taking a Closer Look.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy. 

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive, 
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, 
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.

The Prayer of St. Francis

Since posting Friend or Foe? yesterday, I've received multiple comments from readers about the timeliness of the message, how hard it is, given the state of our world, to choose to see the universe as fundamentally friendly, and, how much we need to be reminded of this most important choice. I agree whole-heartedly with their comments. That's why I wrote it in the first place. I won't speak for other writers, but I usually write about what I most need to hear.

As I was putting the finishing touches on yesterday's blog, I wanted to crop the photo of St. Francis of Assisi so that very little of the mountain was left in the picture. Why? If you look up towards the top of the mountain on the right hand side of the picture, you can see a long black line that kind of looks like a fence. Except that it isn't a fence, it's a wall, as in a section of "The Wall" between the United States and Mexico. I didn't want the wall in the picture. It, for me, is a metaphor for a hostile universe if ever there was one. I wanted St. Francis, who with his beautiful prayer is, for me, a metaphor for a friendly universe *He called all creatures his "brothers" and "sisters", preached to the birds, and saw nature as a mirror of God. Hell, he even called his chronic illnesses his "sisters".  But try as I might, every time I tried to crop the photo, the editing feature wouldn't work. It. Would. Not. Work. On about my tenth try and with more than a few hostile words for my computer, I got it. The picture depicted the choice between Friend or Foe perfectly. At any given moment we have the opportunity to choose what we believe about the universe in which we live. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about putting on rose colored glasses, a happy face, or turning a blind eye to all of the vicious, unkind, malicious, unsympathetic, venomous, harsh, brutal, inhospitable (all synonyms for "hostile") actions we see, hear, and perhaps personally experience. What I am suggesting, is that underneath it all, the heart that holds the world together beats with love, respect, and the desire for the well-being of all. And just like the picture with the wall that wouldn't be conveniently cropped out, the two views of the world between which we must choose are in stark contrast to one another.  

Maybe it has to be stark so that we don't miss it. 

Lord, make me and instrument of your peace. 

Amen.

PS In case you are wondering, I do believe we need a thoughtful approach to our borders. Thoughtful. Humane, Respectful. Safe. Just. One based on the belief in a friendly universe.

* Wikipedia

Friend or Foe?

“The most important decision we make is whether we believe we live in a friendly or hostile universe.”

- Albert Einstein

I made this decision for the first time years ago. 

For my money, we live in a friendly universe. I've been blessed with a few deep and lasting friendships, and what I've learned about friendship is that it is based on love, respect, and a deep concern for the well being of one another. The universe in which I live (and which we all share regardless of how we see it) is founded on and held together by that same kind of love. Love with a capital 'L'. Like a good and true friend, it sees us for who we are and loves us in spite of ourselves. It wants the best for us and will offer up limitless support if we will only open our hands and our hearts to its help. 

What we look for determines what we see, and what we look for is determined by our answer to this "most important decision." If we look for evidence that we live in a hostile universe, we will find it everywhere. In traffic, the media (social and otherwise), our places of employment, in the checkout line at the grocery store, and definitely inside our own heads and hearts. The world is out to harm us and we'd better armor up. If, on the other hand, we look for evidence that we live in a friendly place, we will find evidence of it everywhere. To be honest, this is easier said than done for me on many days, but if I choose this lens through which to look at the world, I find evidence of this friendly universe in traffic, the media (social or otherwise), our places of employment, the checkout line at the grocery store, and, inside my own head and heart. The world is out to help me  and I'd better gear up. What goes around, comes around. And we keep that cycle going based on how we see the world.

This isn't a small decision. 

This isn't a one-and-done kind of thing.

It is a monumental decision.

It is made multiple times, usually on a moment-by-moment basis. 

In this moment, what say you? Friend of Foe? 

Your answer will make all the difference.

Rise and Shine

Recently I was lucky enough to spend a week at Rancho La Puerta in Tecate, Baja California, Mexico as a presenter. I was there to talk about the importance of "Trusting Your Own Magnet" - how to sense where life is calling you, and how you might get there.  My youngest daughter  Lauren came with me, and every morning we were up early, sitting out on the veranda with our sacred first cups of French Press coffee and setting our intentions for the day. Not surprisingly, our days unfolded with a sense of ease, space and grace.  It. Was. Glorious.

But when someone is serving you beautiful, organic meals made from vegetables just harvested from the Ranch garden and prepared by people who pray over and bless the food before serving it, making your bed in the morning and turning it down at night, leading you in quiet meditations, massaging and herbal wrapping your body, and serving you just made smoothies... well... if my day didn't go well.... #suckstobeme.

One afternoon fellow presenter Lindsay Sherry, a certified nutritionist and holistic health coach, was sharing 8 Tips for Creating Your Best and Healthiest Life!. Tip number one, numero uno, at the top of the heap? Take time in the morning just for you. Her words rang true. The ones that resonated even more? If we're going to win the day, we have to win the first hour. Period. End of sentence. It's as simple as that, and as hard as it gets. Especially when you're not at a world-class health spa with gracious people attending to your every need.

Back home, in the midst of the magic and the mess that is my real life, with meals to cook and beds to make, laundry to do and bills to pay, relationships to tend to and emails to write, it's a little tricker. And yet those morning hours set the table for the rest of the day. They really do. And if I let the table get set for me (hello depressing news, toxic tweets, social media rabbit holes, hitting the snooze button - again, and fake food for breakfast) I shouldn't be surprised if my daily bread tastes stale. Thankfully I came home from the Ranch committed to becoming committed to winning my first hour. Currently, this is what that looks like:

• Up at 5:30ish, hopefully after at least 7 hours of sleep
• Out on the porch sipping Sleepy Monk French Press coffee out of my favorite  before 6:00
• 20 minutes of meditation (or at least pretending to meditate)
• A little inspirational reading (sometimes only time for a sentence or two)
• Off to the gym for a workout

I wish I could tell you that I got it right every day. But I don't. I wish I could tell you that I was up to an hour of meditation a day and have found inner peace unlike ever before. But I'm lucky to get in that 20 minutes, and inner peace is a total crap shoot. What I can tell you is that I am learning to trust the practice and just get up and do it. I am finding a tiny sliver  of inner calm that I can access a wee bit easier. Rather than react, I'm a tiny bit more able to take a deep breath and a step back. With more time in the gym my energy is increasing as is my muscle tone. My morning practice to win the day is a work in progress, and comparing mine to that of anyone else doesn't help. I seem to be in pretty good company about that. In The Book of Joy, Archbishop Desmond Tutu dismisses his own morning meditation practice when compared to His Holiness the Dalai Lama's of arising at 3:00am for five hours of prayer and meditation. The Archbishop doesn't haul his sorry ass out of bed until 4:00am and then only manages to squeeze in three or four hours of prayer and meditation. Like Teddy Roosevelt said, "Comparison is the Thief of Joy." 

I've been a morning person for as long as I can remember. Apparently I arrived on the planet wired to get up before the sun does. But being an early riser does not a good day make. What we do when our feet hit the floor does. 

A Sense of Entitlement

When you hear the word "entitlement" what comes to mind? Those people who want something for nothing? Sometimes at our expense? How dare they?! Easy to smugly think that I'm not one of those people. 

The other morning while happily working out, pushing through an interval training session on the elliptical machine, I was listening to Typology - a favorite podcast featuring Enneagram teacher, episcopal priest and co-author of The Road Back To You, Ian Cron. The podcast "...explores the mystery of the human personality and how we can use the Enneagram typing system as a tool to become our most authentic selves." I love this podcast, and anything that can add to my attempts to become my most authentic self is good by me. As a 4 on the Enneagram, authenticity gets straight to the heart of my matter.

On this particular morning at an especially juicy part of the episode, I accidentally caught my headphone cord on my arm while reaching for my water bottle, simultaneously ripping my earbuds out and flinging my iPhone to the floor. I guess my most authentic self loves to yell the "F" word, and smack my hand on the elliptical handles. More than once. The feeling I had could perhaps best be described as a fiery hot flash of anger. How dare that happen to me?!

Climbing off the machine to retrieve everything, I started to wonder why that little, teeny, tiny, mishap had gotten under my skin so quickly. As things go, this was a nano-thing. It wasn't like my bank account was overdrawn and I couldn't afford groceries for my family, or didn't know where I would sleep that night because the homeless shelter was full. A loved one hadn't just tragically died in a suicide bombing, nor had I lost my home to a hurricane. I wasn't the subject of identity theft, not had I been subjected to sexual harassment in return for another day of work. Nope. My $700 iPhone had dropped on the floor, safe in its $69 waterproof, shockproof case, and my ears were a little irritated from the ripped out earbuds. Let's talk First World problems here. The word "entitlement" quietly slipped into my mind. I'm not fond of that word, especially when applied to me, as it conjures up images of people who don't want to put in the work. All of the glory, none of the guts. Their needs always matter more. The world owes them. The college graduate who doesn't want to start at the bottom and earn their way up. The driver who endangers everyone else by cutting in and out of traffic because apparently her time is more precious than ours. Entitled people are the ones who think the rules don't apply to them. How dare they?!

That's. Not. Me. 

Well then, exactly what did I imagine I was entitled to in that moment when my iPhone went sailing to the floor? No discomfort? The right to finish the podcast in peace? No obstacles in the way? Smooth sailing? And then I remembered a few other occurrences that showcased what was looking like my own subtle brand of entitlement. Like the time not too long ago when I was driving out of our driveway for a meeting, and  my cup of coffee spilled all over my oh-so-casual-but-carefully-chosen outfit. I screamed so hard and so loud that my throat hurt for the next two days. Think Linda Blair in The Exorcist with her head spinning around, a guttural, other-worldly sound coming from a very, very dark place. Or the time when I banged my knee on my open filing cabinet drawer and slammed it shut so many times that it required the help of my husband (who never seems to scream, slam, or spill anything) to finally pry it open. Do you see a theme here? Yeah. Me too.

Those outward immature temper tantrums point to something deeper and hidden below my mature looking surface. It seems that I have a deeply rooted belief that nothing should get in my way, or ruin my plans. That I have a right for things to work out as I think they should, and that I deserve to proceed along my merry way uninterrupted. I hate to admit it, but those sound strangely like  senses of entitlement. So, where else might it raise its ugly little head? How about when I'm savoring my first cup of coffee in the quiet morning hours and someone calls on the phone. How dare they?! I am entitled to these few moments of peace and quiet dammit! Or when I've cleared the decks and have a whole day at my desk to write, and suddenly someone needs my help. Right now! How dare they?! Don't I have a right to an uninterrupted day? Don't get me wrong, I am all for self-care and the importance of making time for ourselves, our health, our loves, and our work. But that's not what I'm talking about here. This is about the underlying belief that I have a right for things to work out exactly how I want, when I want, and where I want.

Time to look even deeper.

My latest book came out last year. BLUSH: Women & Wine felt  important to write, and it was. It is well written, has a relevant message, and has the potential to touch people's lives for the good.  But now that it is out in the world, it isn't getting the notice I think it deserves. And perhaps even more embarrassingly honest, I'm not getting the attention I think I deserve, the speaking gigs I love, or the opportunities to showcase what I have to offer. As a 4 on the Enneagram, I'm long on big dreams, but can fall short of taking the consistent small steps it takes to bring a vision to life. I talk about it with my coaching clients and in my workshops, but I am lazy about actually doing it myself. Recently a good friend (and fellow Enneagram 4) sent me a link to a Will Smith video about the self-discipline it takes to achieve success. He's talking about material success, but it's true of anything we set out to do, become, contribute. We don't deserve success. We're not entitled to it. We don't have a right to it. We make it happen. Day by day. Choice by choice. Step by step.

To replace my newly recognized and embarrassing sense of entitlement with a much more energizing sense of accomplishment, I've implemented a new practice. Do at least one thing a day to further my progress.

Oh...And count to ten before swearing, screaming, or slamming. 

Winter Outside. Winter Inside.

It's early in the morning, and as is our custom, my husband Tom and I are taking time to do a little reading, attempt to meditate, and savor that first sacred cup of coffee. The view out our great room window, however, is depressing. It has been raining for days. Never quite cold enough to snow. Never quite warm enough to melt the dirty white patches underneath the pine trees, remnants of that first pristine snowfall on Christmas Eve. The dismal weather set in a few weeks ago, and isn't showing any signs of lifting. 

Dark. Gray. Gloomy.

I have an interior sense of gloom and sadness that has settled in, and it isn't showing any signs of lifting either. Familiar with depression, this scares me just a little. It's hard to find the motivation to do almost anything, and the pressure to just do something is building. A month of 2018 is already behind me, and what do I have to show for it? What if the words don't start to flow onto the page again? What if the ideas I've been nurturing never flourish? What if the seeds I've been planting never put down roots and become something alive and vital?  

The view out our window only reinforces my internal dismal weather pattern.

Dark. Gray. Gloomy.

Wrapping my hands more tightly around my coffee cup, I say to Tom, "My insides feel exactly like it looks outside". 

Dark. Gray. Gloomy.

He doesn't say anything, and my internal ground-fog  settles in lower.  As is his way, he is slow to speak, and when he finally breaks the silence, here is what he says;  "This is the only time of the year that the earth gets to just be. To simply lay there and soak up the rain. It is almost as if you can hear the earth exhale a sigh of relief at the forced rest of the winter months. Nothing to do but quietly receive." Tom is a geologist and has spent his life studying the ground beneath our feet. As a man who has lived his life close to the earth, he has learned to recognize her ancient wisdom, her deep knowing that there is a time for everything, and a season to every purpose under heaven. 

I try to let his words sink in, and attempt to do nothing but quietly receive the perspective he is offering. Looking out the window again, something shifts inside. I begin to let go of the fear that the sun will never break through my clouds, and find instead a small handhold of faith that in good time, it will. Rather than anxiously hold my breath, I slowly exhale, and find a quiet sense of relief. Instead of grasping at straws, I take a stab at receiving the gifts of quiet and stillness that this dark, gray, and gloomy day might offer. 

There is a time for everything, and a season to every purpose under heaven. Including this one:

Dark. Gray. Gloomy.

And it is not for naught. It is for the purpose of preparing the earth for what is still to come, nourishing her for the work of the coming season. Looking out the window again it dawns on me that it would be wise to listen to this ancient wisdom. Heading upstairs to my desk I decide that this must be the time to faithfully show up at my desk, trusting that the words will again begin to flow.  It is the time to purposefully water the ideas that are quietly germinating. And, this is the season to nurture the seeds that are too busy putting down roots to show themselves above the quiet earth in which they have been planted. 

There is a time for everything, and a season to every purpose under heaven.

Amen.