When Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

Normally, the view from our front window is a spectacular vista of Mt. Adams. Even on a cloudy day we can usually see at least an outline of the mountain. Not today. Due to the massive wildfires burning throughout the West, there is so much smoke that it is hard to even imagine our mountain. There's no way around it, the smoke is terrible. As in hell is burning terrible. Everyone is talking about it. Eyes are burning, vision is cloudy, throats are sore, hearts are stressed, lungs are taxed, heads are aching, and spirits are waning.

The pervasive smoke has gotten me thinking about how often our own vision is clouded by the smoke of the fires burning in our own personal forests. We run to put out one fire after another, leaving smoking embers in our wake, never stepping back to ask ourselves what our forests need to be healthy. The thing is, fires are a necessary part of the ecological process that keep timberlands healthy. One way to do that is to ignore the forest until one day a lightening strike or the strike of an arsonist's match sets the whole thing ablaze. When we can't see the forest for the trees, that is often the way it goes. The other option is through something called a prescribed burn, a fire intentionally set to burn away that which is getting in the way of a healthy and sustainable woodland. Rather than resources poured into disaster management, it is an investment in the future. 

The Mt. Adams Community Forest, one year after a prescribed burn overseen by Mt. Adams Resource Stewards.

Our lives are no different. Periodically burning away that which no longer serves us, clutters our landscapes, and consumes precious resources is the only way to create a healthy environment in which we can continue to thrive and grow. 

I'm thinking about what needs to be carefully, and thoughtfully burned away in my life. How about in yours?

The Difference Between Giving In & Giving Up

"It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop."

~ Confucius

Last year I climbed Mt. Adams. Together with my husband Tom and two dear and fearless friends, we made the climb to the top, and I'm not sure I've ever felt stronger in all of my 65 years. We had strategically trained to make it to the summit with hikes of increasing difficulty and elevation, time on treadmills, strength training, (mostly) clean eating, and visualizing ourselves at the top. Standing on what felt like the top of the world, I felt like I was at the top of my game. The strength I felt that day stayed with  me, and I began to imagine more hikes, more backpacking, maybe even a pilgrimage or two. I didn't, however, imagine myself back at the top of the mountain, because we did happen to get lost on the way down, and spent an unexpected night on the mountain. It was like laying in our driveway.  We shivered in the 29 degree temperature under space blankets, watched the Perseid meteor shower, and waited for the day to dawn. It. Was. Epic.

Sometime after the new year I was working out in the gym, determined to keep increasing my strength and stamina for all of the trails and adventures still ahead. Everything was going according to plan until one day when I was attempting to stand up from a cross legged seated position without any assistance. The reason I wanted to do it is because I had read somewhere that NOT being able to do it is one of 10 signs that you might die early. I  had been done it once after all of the training for Mt. Adams, but I wanted to keep the odds in my favor. As I stood up, something happened. I wasn't sure what, but it wasn't good. Over the next few weeks things continued to deteriorate, and I was in constant pain. It hurt to sit. It hurt to walk. It hurt to lay down. It hurt just looking out the window at Mt. Adams, much less imagining ever making it to the top again. 

Working with what I can only describe as my AMAZING care team, it was determined that the ligaments supporting my pelvis were injured and overstretched, and my pelvis had become unstable.  As it turns out, the road to recovery is long, the steps I've had to take are small, and the pace I've had to set is slow. Painstakingly slow. When the pain set in, so did the discouragement, and I began to wonder if I'd ever be able to walk without pain, much less hike again. If I'd be able to push myself at the gym and get the good endorphins of a good workout. More than a few times I wanted to ignore the pain and push harder. More than a few times, I wanted to just give up.

What I finally came to understand is that there is a difference between giving in and giving up. In order to get well, in order to heal and regain my strength, I had to give in to the reality of my situation. The process of healing and regeneration, stability and strength could only happen if I accepted the only road to my recovery. Small steps + Slow pace = Steady progress.

What I didn't have to do was give up on what might be possible. Wrapping my arms around the truth of my injury set me free to begin working with what I had to work with. Once again I was reminded that it is the truth that sets us free. 

I'm not there yet, but I'm getting closer. 

Remember that giving in to what is, doesn't mean giving up to what can be. It is the first step towards what is possible.

Onward and upward.

Maybe even to the top of Mt. Adams again.

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.