Catch And Release

This morning, as I was reading Walking A Sacred Path: Rediscovering the Labyrinth as a Spiritual Tool by Dr. Lauren Artress, I came across a sentence that made me pause. I read it again, slowly, taking in the words along with a slow deep breath. Exhaling, I felt a sense of deep appreciation for the truth contained in just one short sentence. I read it again, more slowly this time, breathing in the words, and exhaling them as an intention and a prayer.

“The mind needs release from itself in order to find peace, and wisdom.”

There are times when I find myself completely stuck in my head, captivated by my stories. The ones I tell myself about how things are, have been, might be, will be, should be, could be. The trouble with our internal stories is that we tend to believe them, and they often lead to inner angst and outer actions that take us further away from ourselves and who we want to be in the world. I am finding that the sooner I catch myself caught up in an old story, the sooner I am able to release it, making space for peace and wisdom to find their way back in.

When I was in Nashville a couple of weeks ago for work, I was working with a room full of educators committed to advancing STEM Education for Girls. To a person they were intelligent, articulate, accomplished, and highly educated. I was there to facilitate a day that allowed them to connect and think well together. To create a safe space for courageous thinking. That’s what I do, and I am really, really good at it.

Each person was asked to come prepared to share their own story of how they came to their passion for, and commitment to STEM. Periodically throughout the day, we would pause and turn our attention to the front of the room, and listen generously to the next story teller. In order to create that safe space for courageous thinking it is important for me to quickly establish credibility and earn people’s trust, and to do that, I work to be authentic and vulnerable from the start. To that end, I chose to go first, sharing an especially personal story from my college days, when I was advised by my dad “not to appear too smart, so as not to intimidate the men in the class.” I went on to tell how that statement sent me on a long detour away from myself and my belief in my own intelligence and capabilities, and, how I eventually found my way back.

I’ve told that story many times over the years, and it can feel like those words are nothing but a distant memory, no longer holding sway over my mind. At the end of the day however, one of the educators came up to thank me. She shook my hand, holding onto it as she looked deeply into my eyes and expressed her gratitude, telling me that I was very, very good at what I do. Before I could even begin to appreciate her acknowledgement of my contribution to the day, I was gripped by the thought that she must have been trying to make me feel good about myself as a result of the story I had shared. And just like that, I was back in college, questioning my abilities and my intelligence.

Catch and release.

Thankfully, I saw the old story take over, and just as quickly, put it back in its rightful place. A piece of my history, that has no relevance to the person I am today, and the contribution I bring to the world.

We may never be completely free of our old stories, but we no longer have to believe them.

Catch and release.

ATG Photography

What Doesn't Fit

While I have what I consider to be few good talents, two that continue to surprise and delight me are a freakish ability to spot wildlife, and a knack for finding incredible treasures at insanely low prices. After 25 years together, my husband still counts on me to find where the wild things are, and in my family we joke that finding the next great treasure for next to nothing is my spiritual gift.

They may sound like very different skills, but both are rooted in the same principle. Look for what doesn’t fit. Be on the look out for what is out of the ordinary when compared to the surroundings. Pay attention to the thing that doesn’t quite make sense. A pattern that goes against the grain. What just doesn’t belong.

Do you remember the song One of These Things from Sesame Street? The tune, sung here by Big Bird, was usually accompanied by a grouping of four items, one of which didn’t fit with the others. Young viewers were asked to identify the thing that didn’t belong. It was designed to help kids sort through input, make connections, and draw conclusions. But it is a principle that reaches far beyond Sesame Street, a walk on the wild side, or a wander through the local Goodwill.

On the one hand, it can alert us when we, or someone we love, is in trouble. When we notice that something seems amiss, it is a call to delve deeper. Something that is out of character can signal a cry for help.

On the other hand, when something stands out as different from the rest, it can point us to the possibility that something or someone, is a cut above and worth our consideration.

While I no longer tune into Sesame Street, I always tune in to what doesn’t belong.

One (or two) of these things is not like the other…….one (or two) of these things just don’t belong…..

The Art Of Gratitude

“It’s not happiness that makes us grateful. It’s gratefulness that makes us happy.” Brother David Steindl-Rast

(The Book of Joy by the Dali Lama, Desmond Tutu, with Douglas Abrams)

When it comes to cultivating gratitude, what we focus on...

…determines what we miss.

While I haven’t mastered the art of it yet, it seems to me that gratitude is a choice, and happiness is the result. 

How It Works

Make something marvelous.

Create a compelling story about it.

Share the story with those who want to hear it.

That’s how it works.

Take Pop’s Eggnog for example. As I wrote in a recent post, this marvelous holiday concoction has been a tradition in our family dating back to the 1930’s, when Pop (my dad) and a few fraternity brothers made a batch together. Fast forward to November 19, 2018, and that same eggnog is being served up at Solstice Wood Fire Cafe & Bar, a kick-ass establishment that serves up food and drink that showcase the best local and seasonal Gorge and Pacific Northwest ingredients. Said establishment also happens to be managed by Pop’s youngest granddaughter.

Solstice decided to offer Pop’s Eggnog and share the story of how it made its way from a kitchen in a fraternity house more than 80 years ago, to the kitchen of one of the Columbia River Gorge’s most beloved restaurants. They’ve made something marvelous. The’ve created a short, but compelling story about it. They’ve shared that story with those who want to hear it.

And Pop’s Eggnog? It’s flying off the shelves.

That’s how it works.

Here’s the thing: What worked for Pop’s Eggnog can work for us too.

Make something marvelous. It doesn’t have to change the whole world, just the world of those who want what we have to offer.

Create a compelling story about it. It doesn’t have to resonate with everyone, just with those who want what we have to offer.

Share the story. It doesn’t have to reach every audience, just the audience that wants what we have to offer.

That’s how it works.

Old Year's Resolution

New Year’s resolutions have been around for thousands of years, and while many of us seem to make them, not so many of us seem to actually accomplish what we set out to do. Or not do. Whether you are a fan of making some sort of promise to yourself as the calendar turns over to another year or not, there seems to be a cultural expectation that we make one. 2019 is looming large, and it can be easy to consider the current year a done deal. Too soon to set our resolutions for the year about to begin, and too late to make any for the one about to end.

But this morning it dawned on me that there are still 38 days left in 2018, and in order to have a sense of contentment and satisfaction about ending this year well, I’ve decided to start a new tradition: An Old Year’s Resolution.

When the shotguns go off in our little valley at midnight on December 31, 2018, what would I like to be true?

What would I like to have accomplished?

Done?

Not done?

Grabbed hold of?

Let go of?

If I had the courage, what would I do before ringing in another year?

In his poem, Start Close In, David Whyte writes:

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.

An Old Year’s Resolution is a chance to start close in. To take that first step. The one we’d rather jump over and get on to the next steps. The one we’ve known we need to take, but haven’t found our way to do actually take it.

What is the step I don’t want to take? I’ll take that one.

What is the step you don’t want to take? Maybe you’ll take that one.

There’s still time.

38 days to be exact.

The Viewing Platform

Whenever we walk our local wildlife refuge, a mandatory stop along the way is the viewing platform. Located at about the halfway point of a three-mile loop, from that vantage point we might catch a glimpse of one of the local elk herds, pairs of Sandhill Cranes, flocks of waterfowl, and on a clear day, a straight shot at Mt. Adams, known to Native Americans as Pahto.

The viewing platform is a spot to pause and take in a larger view than what is visible along the forest trail, and while we don’t always hit the wildlife spotting jackpot, the view is always worth the trip.

Time on that simple structure is a chance to gain perspective, and see one’s life as a small part in the bigger scheme of things. It is an opportunity to catch sight of something that takes our breath away and inspires us to imagine new possibilities. Or, on a foggy day, only hints at what might lay just beyond our sight. A few moments on the platform provide a brief respite to gather our strength, and it is a place to leave behind the old in order to make room for something new.

We all need a viewing platform from which to consider our small part in the bigger scheme of things. And from that place, we can remember where we’ve been, and set our sights on the trail ahead.

Conboy Wildlife Refuge, Thanksgiving morning, 2018

The Shape of Gratitude

“Gratitude is the way home.”

Brené Brown

Most years, Thanksgiving means a houseful of people, an abundance of cooks in the kitchen, and little ones in the midst of it all. We subscribe to the-more-the-merrier philosophy, and most years we are more than merry.

This year however, it will be just the two of us, and we couldn’t be more thankful. Not because we don’t want everyone gathered here, but because everyone will be gathered exactly where they are supposed to be.

All four of our daughters and their families are celebrating this Thanksgiving in the way that is the very best for them. Rather than disappointment, my heart is filled with gratitude for their hard-earned wisdom to discern what will serve them well. Instead of trying to please us or anyone else, I am thankful that they are courageous enough to please themselves. Rather than sadness at their absence, I am grateful for the abundant love of my marriage.

Gratitude comes in all shapes and sizes, and if we can get let go of our expectations about how things should be, we can grab hold of the goodness in how things actually are.

Spread The Word

This morning my sister shared her approach to the holiday season now upon us. She has decided to choose a word to describe how she would like to experience this meaning-laden, complicated time of the year.

One word that would help guide her decisions, thoughts, and actions on a daily, and even a moment-by-moment, basis.

Like a mantra, this word would protect her mind from the onslaught of thoughts that tell her what her holiday season should be, inspiring her instead to imagine what it could be.

Like a star shining brightly on a holy night, this word would guide her steps.

This one word would be the filter through which she will run all of her decisions, and she is committed to making choices that will keep her true to her chosen word…

JOY

After spending a day which included trips to Costco, New Season’s Market, a liquor store, and Target, I’ve decided I need a word of my own.

Like a star shining brightly on a holy night, this word will guide my steps, and keep me true to my chosen word…

PEACE

As you cast your eye to the other side of these long winter nights, what one word, like a star shining brightly will guide your steps?

Pop’s Eggnog

In the early 1930’s, James Clinton Davis was a student at Oregon State and a member of the Phi Delta Theta fraternity. One year he and a few of his fraternity brothers decided to ring in the holiday with a batch of homemade eggnog. Affectionately known to his friends as Clink, and his grandchildren as Pop, he was also my dad. Originally whipped up on a whim by a bunch of fraternity brothers, our family has been making Pop’s Eggnog ever since.

For as long as I can remember, making, drinking and sharing this family nog has marked every Christmas with a tradition as sweet and rich as that first sip. My earliest memories include loading up the family car on Christmas Eve with precious jars of the stuff, and heading out to go, as Pop called it,  “Christmas Calling”, to deliver liquid goodwill to good friends and neighbors. Later that same night, after attending their candlelight Christmas service, dear family friends would ring the doorbell, and over glasses of Pop’s eggnog, always topped with freshly grated nutmeg, we would ring in the earliest hours of a new Christmas Day. 

As life goes, looking back, some years were better than others, and some were downright painful and hard. But Pop’s Eggnog? It was always the same. Rich, sweet, tasty, and delicious. It tasted as good when we were down on our luck as it did when we were in the chips.

Pop is gone, but his eggnog and the memories gathered over the years of making, drinking, and sharing it live on. Every year, it is made, sipped, and shared by our family, now spread out in towns and cities near and far.

And today, Pop’s Eggnog is officially being served, topped of course with freshly ground nutmeg, to welcome in another holiday season at Solstice Woodfire Cafe & Bar in Hood River, Oregon, which is managed by Pop’s youngest granddaughter.

Traditions matter, and in times of turmoil, uncertainty, and stress, they can remind us that there are some things that can always be counted on no matter what. Like Pop’s Eggnog. 

Cheers Pop! 

What They Teach Us

As I write this, my 2 1/2 year old grand boy is sleeping. On this gorgeous quiet Sunday, we’ve spent the day just hanging together, and in just a few short hours, here is what I’ve already learned from him.

The importance of play.

No matter what our age, play is good for almost everything that ails us. It reminds us to take life and ourselves a little less seriously.

The importance of finding something we love so much that we can’t help but practice it.

For him, that is golf. Nothing makes him happier than some time with his driver, a few golf balls, and a patch of grass.

The importance of picking up after ourselves.

Whether that means our toys or our clothes, our mistakes or our hurtful words, cleaning things up and clearing the air is our work to do.

The importance of nourishment.

Whether a tiny human or those of us further down the trail, we all need food for the journey, and a well balanced diet feeds body, mind, and spirit.

The importance of growth.

Plotting this little human’s growth since his last trip here reminded me that learning and growing never stop. Or at least they don’t have to.

The importance of standing on our own two feet.

We are not meant to live in the shadow of others, but to find our own solid ground from which to cast our own.

The importance of rest.

Life requires a lot, and bringing our best selves to the party can only happen when we build in times of rest.

Speaking of rest, I hear a little voice calling. I can’t wait to find out what else he has to teach me.

Out of the mouth of babes…