Walking The Refuge

We live near a beautiful wildlife refuge, and we walk it as often as we can.

A combination of oak, pine, and aspen forests, wetlands, and grassy prairies, it offers an ever-changing, always stunning vista as the seasons roll through, and provides habitat for creatures large, small, and everywhere in between.

Photo: Jean Gale

The refuge is a fusion of discovery and quiet familiarity. Discovery because it is always changing, and you never know what you might encounter around the next curve in the trail, or through your binoculars trained across the landscape. Quiet familiarity comes from the well known landmarks, sound of wind in the pines, and the always staggering view of Mt. Adams.

There is a three-mile loop trail that wanders along its edge, with a viewing platform at the midway point from which to catch a possible glimpse of some wildlife.

Walking the refuge is to visit a place of safety, sanctuary, retreat, and shelter.

Walking the refuge is to encounter a fusion of discovery and familiarity.

Walking the refuge is an opportunity to stand on a viewing platform and catch a glimpse of one’s life.

Where is there a refuge for you to walk?

Humility

Life has a way of humbling us. Of reminding us to not think too highly of ourselves or take ourselves too seriously.

Making a mistake in public brings us down a notch.

Taking on challenging work stretches us beyond the laurels on which we’d rather rest.

We go under the surgeon’s knife uncertain of the outcome.

Admitting when we are wrong can make things right in a relationship.

We become well known in our field only to become familiar with failing on a big stage.

When our weakness is on display it showcases our need for others.

The early death of someone we love brings us up short.

Being humbled doesn’t mean being cut down to size.

As Father Greg Boyle, founder of Homeboy Industries, the largest gang intervention, rehabilitation and reentry program in the world, writes in Barking To The Choir, “It is, as they say in business, not a downsizing, but a right-sizing.”

Wing-Walking

“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”

~ Havelock Ellis

There’s something called the Wing-Walker principle.

Often featured stunts in airshows of the past, wing-walkers were those daredevil folk willing to crawl out of the cockpit of an airborne biplane, and walk on the wing. Those watching from the ground, as well as the walker on the wing, knew that imminent death was a possibility.

The wing-walker principle, as explained to me, is that you never let go of one handhold until you have another one to grab on to. Makes good sense to me.

This same principle holds true on more than an airplane wing.

Life often feels as precarious as being out on an airplane wing, high above the ground, and the wind ready to blow you to kingdom come. There are times when it feels like you won’t survive, and that death is a real possibility if you can’t find something to hold onto.

When big change is upon us, what we’ve held onto in the past may not be able to sustain us where we are going, and In order to make our way forward, we have to find the next handhold.

Not the next ten.

Not even the next two.

Just the next thing to grab onto that will help us to hold steady in the gale force winds that threaten to push us off into thin air. That handhold could be the next phone call, decision, step, action, or piece of new information that will allow us to let go of the old, and begin to take hold of the new.

One handhold at a time, until we are again on solid ground.

Prop The Door Open

“To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation.”

~ from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

This morning as I was working out in the little gym in town, I opened the door to let in the  gorgeous view of the fall colors in the distance, some fresh autumn air, and a little more light. I was facing the door while lifting some weights, when a slight breeze picked up outside, and the door slowly and quietly began to shut. It stopped about two-thirds of the way, leaving only a third of the view, fresh air, and light.

I’d forgotten to prop it open with a rock.

It is safe to say that while I am squarely in the third-third of my life, there is still a lot out there that is mine to do. More words to write, more retreats to lead, more stages from which to speak, more clients to coach, more work on which to collaborate, more adventures with the love of my life, more time with the “littles” in our family, more time with those I love, and, more to discover every step of the way.

In order to make good on what is still mine to do, I have to keep the door to whatever that is open.

So do you.

An open door keeps our vision in front of us, breathes fresh air into our work, and shines light on our steps. But the door won’t stay open of its own accord. We have to prop it open with our rock-solid commitment to pursuing the good work to which we are called, the authentic, whole-hearted lives that we are here to live, and the people whose hearts we are here to love and to touch.

The door to the life that is ours can begin to close, ever so slowly and quietly, if we don’t remember to prop it open with a rock.

Many Happy Returns

Many happy returns on the day of thy birth

Many seasons of sunshine be given

May God in his mercy prepare you on earth

For a beautiful birthday in heaven

I don’t know where this birthday blessing originated, but for as long as I can remember, it is what we say when anyone in our family blows out the candles on their cake. Without the blessing, there is no cake.

Many happy returns on the day of thy birth

May your trips around the sun be many.

Many seasons of sunshine be given

May you have joy in abundance for as long as you live.

May God in his mercy prepare you on earth

May your work on earth be worthwhile.

For a beautiful birthday in heaven

May the world be forever better because you were here.

Last night we celebrated my 65th birthday, and the order of the evening was as it always is.

Blow out the candles.

Receive the blessing.

Eat the cake.

After a blessing like that, It feels like you really can have your cake and eat it too.

Eyes Wide Shut

"Never be so focused on what you're looking for that you overlook the thing you actually find."

~Ann Patchett

For the last 10 years, my husband Tom has commuted from our home to his office in Vancouver, Washington. Leaving home on Monday morning, we had the exact same routine every week. He’d pack his bag the night before, get up early, shower, get dressed, have one cup of coffee, eat breakfast while we played one game of Backgammon, load up the car, take a travel mug of coffee, and head down our road. The routine was so familiar we could almost do it with our eyes shut.

From door to door that commute is exactly 88 miles, driven on the same stretch of road, along the same stretch of the Columbia River, in the same car. If it wasn’t so dangerous, he could almost do it with his eyes shut.

One day last year however, he almost drove off the road, and it wasn’t because he was sleepy or on auto-pilot. Quite the opposite, he was wide awake with his eyes wide open. Which is what allowed him to see this…

UNTOUCHED photo: Tom Pierson

On auto-pilot, we might get where we are going, but completely miss the trip.

(For more inspiration about coming upon the unexpected, visit a recent post by David Berry complete with sound effects.)

Miracle

“There are only two ways to live your life: as though nothing is a miracle, or as though everything is a miracle.”

~ Albert Einstein

As the story goes, I was a miracle.

On October 12, 1953, I was born prematurely. Delivered by cesarean section and weighing in at less than three pounds, I wasn’t expected to survive the night. My dad called my sister Margie from the hospital to let her know that she had a baby sister, but they hadn’t given her a name yet, because they didn’t think she would live. (I’ve been trying to unpack that no-name thing for years.) It was Columbus Day, there was no school, and she and my two brothers were watching the World Series. She hung up the phone, told my brothers about my arrival, went into her room, got down on her knees, and prayed for me to make it.

Back at the hospital I was in an incubator, fighting for every breath, and it didn’t look good. The doctor who delivered me said to my dad, A good doctor doesn’t mind a second opinion, and so off they went to find one. As it turned out, one of his colleagues, a pediatrician, was on call at the hospital that night, and as they stood around my incubator, he mentioned a new experimental drug that might be of help, but it wasn’t on the market yet. Also as it turned out, the hospital had one sample bottle of the drug, a detergent mist developed to help little underdeveloped lungs clear of fluid. The mist from that one sample bottle filled my incubator, and my lungs emptied out. 

The next day they gave me a name.

I like to think that I had a miracle with my name on it, but then I think you do too. Life is so fragile that it is miraculous to make it from one minute to the next. As I blow out the birthday candles on this my 65th birthday, my wish is that you know that there is a miracle with your name on it, and that miracle is you.

Great Question

“Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Lewis Howes, a NYT bestselling author, lifestyle entrepreneur, former pro athlete, and host of The School of Greatness Podcast, asks his guests the same question at the end of every interview. He calls it Three Truths, and he sets the table for the question like this. He asks his guests to imagine (paraphrasing loosely here) that they are at the end of their lives, and, when they are gone all of their work will go with them. Whatever body of work they have created will leave the planet when they do. With this in mind, he asks them to share three things that they know to be true, and would want their loved ones to know.

What a great question!

Since I may not be invited to be on his show, I decided to pretend that I was one of his guests. We were at the end of the interview, and I imagined that I was at the end of my life, and my body of work was packed up and ready to head out into the great beyond with me. 

So Molly, what are the Three Truths you would want your loved ones to know?

We are all created in the image of God. However you define that force, at our core, we have a spark of that from which we came.

 We are all called to live authentic, wholehearted lives.

We are all called to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach.

My prayer is that when the end comes, I won’t have to answer that question, because I will have lived my answers out loud.

What are your Three Truths?

(Written with gratitude for Lewis Howes and his good work and great question.)

Just Twenty Minutes

Sometimes you just need a stupid-simple strategy. Here’s one.

When I left my first marriage, my young daughters and I moved in with my sister and her family. Our girls were all the same ages, she was a stay-at-home mom, and I had to go back to work right after we moved in. I’d leave for work early in the morning, and my sister was already at work when she woke up. While it might have been twice the love, it was also twice the little bodies, twice the energy, twice the  cooking, twice the tears, twice the noise, and twice the mess. We all agree that we wouldn’t trade that time for anything, but still....

Walking in the door one evening I could see that my sister was close to the end of her gracious rope. Surveying the household landscape strewn with evidence of another “fun” filled day, checking out the kitchen with no evidence of dinner in sight, and looking at my worn out sister with no evidence of a plan of attack, I said the only thing I could come up with:

Just twenty minutes. 

Twenty minutes later and with all hands on deck, the toys, books, splatter paints, My Little Ponies, and dress-up clothes were tucked away, the table was set, and dinner was underway. The 20 minute rule has been with us ever since. 

In just twenty mintues you can: 

Clean out your email

Schedule a hair cut, pedicure, dentist appointment, car tune-up, chiropractor appointment, and piano tuner. 

Make that phone call you’ve been putting off

Plan your week

Grocery shop  

Apologize

Write another paragraph of your manuscript

RSVP to an invitation, and order a birthday present for the party girl

Fold the laundry

Hold a productive meeting

Make a decision 

Write a blog

Apply for medicare

Fill-in-the-blank that you keep putting off

Life can be pretty daunting. Twenty minutes is not.

Safe Is Overrated

  “Well, we are safe, even as we are as vulnerable as kittens,  because love, the riskiest thing we do, makes us safe.”

~ Anne Lamott, from her new book: Almost Everything

In C.S. Lewis’s classic, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Pevensie children find themselves in the magical land of Narnia after stepping through a door in the back of a wardrobe that is stored in an attic. Once there, they learn of Aslan, who is anything but a vulnerable little kitten. He is the fierce, gigantic, talking lion known as the King of Narnia, the King of Beasts, the Lord of the Wood, and son of the great Emperor-Beyond-The Sea.* He is powerful, wise, kind, just, and loving. All of those on the wrong side of all that he stands for fear him, as rightly they should. All of those who seek to stand on the same side of all that he stands for fear him, as rightly they should. He is, after all, the King of Narnia, King of Beasts, Lord of the Wood, and son of the great Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea.

Susan, the middle child of the four Pevensie siblings, has heard much of Aslan, but has yet to meet him. She has heard only of all the good that the powerful Aslan has done, and will do, and is excited at the prospect of meeting him. And, as you might imagine if you were going to meet a fierce, gigantic, talking Lion who reigns over all, you might be a tad bit nervous too. Hoping to allay her fears, she has a conversation with her new friend, Mr. Beaver. 

“Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion"..."Safe?" said Mr Beaver ..."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

Safe is overrated.  

Being true to your convictions isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Speaking your mind isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Adventures aren’t safe. But they’re good. 

Curiosity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Creativity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Meaningful work isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Authenticity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Vulnerability isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Hard conversations aren’t safe. But they’re good.

Asking for help isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

Raising your hand in a meeting isn’t safe. But it’s good.

Reaching across the aisle isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Speaking truth to power isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

Asking for forgiveness isn’t safe. But it’s good.

Extending forgiveness isn’t safe. But it’s good.

And above all else... 

Love isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

When we go for safe, we will never get the chance to walk through the door in the back of a wardrobe that is stored in an attic, and find ourselves in a magical land. Not to mention the possibility of meeting a fierce, giagantic, talking lion. 

I’ll take good over safe any day.  

  

* shmoop