Done With The Dig

I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of an archeological dig, and have imagined what it must be like to unearth remains that confirm what has, until then, only been suspected. It’s thrilling to envision excavating the one piece that finally connects the dots. To uncover a previously hidden source of information that will advance our understanding of who we are and how we got here.

Having never actually been on a dig, or even visited one, it is easy to romanticize the process, filtering it through cinematic eyes, and imagining myself as the hero who finds the one piece that finally completes the puzzle, and wins the prize. I’m no archeologist, but my guess is that in reality, it must boil down to a lot of slow, careful, methodical work, and the site being excavated still might not yield the hoped for evidence. Which means knowing where to dig matters, as does how long to dig. There will always be one more tiny piece, one more fraction of a bone or shard of a pot to find, but when weighed against the effort and investment to keep digging, will the pay off be worth it?

The same could be said for the excavation of our inner lives. Understanding who we are and how we got here as individuals is some of our most important work. To be done well, it will require some digging, some emotional archeology as my wise spiritual director calls it. Filling in the picture of our past can help us live more fully now, and such work often requires the help of a trained professional to help us understand what we’ve uncovered. This archeology can provide us with the piece that completes our puzzle, bringing us the rewards of compassion and forgiveness, healing and wholeness.

Knowing where to dig and for how long matters here too. There will always be more tiny shreds of evidence of our past to dig up. Knowing when to stop digging up the past and get on with living in the present will make a big difference in the future still ahead of us.

Another Star Is Born

It had been almost an hour and still no movement. Pregnant and almost two weeks past my due date, I had to lay down every day for an hour and check to make sure the baby was still moving. It was one of the most nerve racking things I’d ever had to do, so when that little human finally moved, my momma heart could breathe again. The next day we headed for the hospital, and on this day, 33 years ago, my youngest daughter Lauren was born.

As she lay on my chest, just moments old, I heard her big sister Haley out in the hallway squeal with delight, “I got what I wanted!”

So did I.

It’s a strange thing how a heart can double in size in the blink of an eye, but that is exactly what happened that afternoon. She didn’t look out into the hospital room to take in the world around her, but turned her gaze on me. Today she still keeps an eye out for me, and those early hours with her gave me an inkling of the fierce love and loyalty that the heart of this daughter of mine can hold. Her connection to those she loves runs deep, and woe to any who would seek to do them harm. 

Her independence and determination showed up early, which resulted in her spending most of her first 10 years in timeout. However, that same self-reliance and resolve have served her oh so well.  Whether trying out for elite soccer, teaching herself to drive a clutch, wowing a potential employer, or mastering the art of raising up a good dog, once she sets her mind to something, that something gets done.

While fierce, powerful, and strong she may be, behind that immense presence beats a heart as tender and compassionate as they come. Not everyone gets a glimpse, but for those of us who do, it is a gift beyond measure.

The first of our daughters to marry, she chose well and I couldn’t love him more. He will always be my favorite first son-in-law.

When it comes to apples, this one didn’t fall very far from her tree; we share a love of cussing, coffee, the Seattle Seahawks, and Dancing With The Stars.

Lauren is a force to be reckoned with, wants the truth straight up or not at all, finds injustice intolerable, and will do what it takes to get whatever it is done. She knows who she is and what she stands for, and while accepting and respectful of other’s beliefs, will stand alone in her convictions if it comes to that. Hers is a faith too deep and wide to put in a box, and she has come to trust her own deep hard-won inner wisdom, and so have I. To say that I love her to the moon and back doesn’t even come close.

Happy Birthday Lauren Ashby.

Our world and my heart are better because of you.

Image: mosca studio

Believing Our Ears

When I was in college, a good way to clear my head and get reenergized for a long night of studying was to go for a nice long afternoon run. A favorite route was the trail that snaked its way around the edges of the par-3 golf course on campus.

There was one particular run, that I almost didn’t take, but am so glad that I did.

Living off campus in an apartment, I threw on my running clothes, hopped into my white 65 Mustang, and headed for the golf course. On the way there it started to rain, and by the time I parked the car, it was raining even harder.

Or so it sounded on the metal roof of my car.

The rain hitting that metal roof sounded like a torrential downpour. While not a fair-weather runner by any means, which one can’t be if one lives in the Pacific Northwest, the longer I sat there, the more reasons I came up with not to get out of the car. It would be too cold, too wet, too muddy on the course, and too much bother to deal with my wet running clothes back in our apartment with no washer and dryer. Not only that, it was raining even harder.

Or so it sounded on the metal roof of my car.

Just about to put the key in the ignition and head back home, I suddenly thought of all the reasons to get out of the car. After every run, I always felt better, and logging those three-miles left me with energy, clarity, and a more positive outlook. While I didn’t give in and start the car, I didn’t get out of it either, and, it was raining even harder.

Or so it sounded on the metal roof of my car.

I sat there for a few more minutes, pondering my dilemma. To run, or not to run? Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the door handle, stepped out of the car, and immediately found that the rain that sounded like a downpour was actually just a gentle spring rain. Cool and invigorating, the conditions were perfect for a run.

45 years later, I still remember the feel of the rain on my face, the good endorphins that come when we move our bodies, and, how glad I was that I didn’t let the sound of the rain, on the metal roof of my car, keep me from hitting the trail.

Sometimes it’s good not to believe our ears.

image: mustang dreams.com

Just Get It Done

They’ve been on our list for a long, long, long time, and we’ve just kept kicking these particular cans down the road: 

1. Establish an actual budget and track it enough to hold ourselves accountable. (I know, at ages 65 & 71, you’d think we’d have done this years ago. Well, better late than never.)

2. Create a revokable living trust, which also serves to update our very outdated wills.

Every year about this time we talk about getting them done, so that we can finally, at long last, cross them off of our list. And even though they continue to loom in the back of our minds,  every year, we never seem to get around to them.

Now we have.

The budget is done as is an easy tracking system. The proof will be in the pudding whether we actually stick to it or not, but now that the framework is in place, it not only doesn’t sound daunting, it sounds eminently doable. Even, dare I say it, kind of exciting.

The revokable living trust isn’t yet finalized, but we’ve met with our attorney, and as of this past weekend, have read the entire stack of legal documents, which made me want to hit myself in the forehead with a gavel,  but I made my way through every one. Tom and I sat down yesterday and talked them through together, noted our questions and corrections, and made our advance health care directive decisions. I anticipated that last step being the most daunting, but once we talked our way through all of the possible scenarios and what we would/wouldn’t want done in each case, it was quite straightforward. We will have another meeting with our attorney to complete the process, but it is essentially done except for signing on the many dotted lines.

Like many things, now that we’ve actually done what we’ve been meaning to do, and the sense of relief and accomplishment is so great, I wonder what took us so long. If it’s looming in the back of your mind, and you’ve been meaning to get around to it, think how good it will feel to just get it done.

   image - openclipart.org

Does It Have To Hit The Fan?

Little did we know when we brought Gracie-the chocolate-labradoodle into our home, that we were getting a four-legged, curly haired spiritual master. Kind of like our own personal Yoda. But cuter.

We learn from her all the time, and simply caring for her daily needs brings profound lessons. None more so than cleaning up her daily piles out in the yard. Because we are diligent to do so, we are not left with landmines to be avoided, or more likely, stepped in. Once stepped in, there is a whole lot more work to be done in order to clean things back up so as not to bring the un-dealt with shit into our home.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a darn good metaphor for life.

In real life, sometimes we procrastinate, neglect to clean up our messes, and just wait until it all hits the fan, at which point life gets a whole lot harder, not to mention messier. The nasty smelling stuff gets thrown all over anyone within striking distance, and there is a lot of clean up to do. But like little Gracie is teaching us, it happens, and when it does, it is so much easier to pick it up and deal with it, rather than leave it to accumulate.

When it comes to Gracie, we have a practice in place, and because we have committed to the practice, it has become a habit.

See the stuff.

Deal with the stuff.

Be done with the stuff.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds like another darn good metaphor for life.

See our stuff.

Deal with our stuff.

Be done with our stuff.

This, of course, isn’t a one and done deal. We will be cleaning up after ourselves for as long as we draw breath. But the stronger our commitment to the practice, the more deeply engrained the habit.

We can wait for the shit to hit the fan.

But it’s a whole lot easier to deal with if we don’t.

Grounded

“Ground is what lies beneath our feet. It is the place where we already stand; a state of recognition, the place or the circumstances to which we belong whether we wish to or not. It is what holds and supports us, but also what we do not want to be true; it is what challenges us, physically or psychologically, irrespective of our hoped for needs. It is the living, underlying foundation that tells us what we are, where we are, what season we are in and what, no matter what we wish in the abstract, is about to happen in our body, in the world or in the conversation between the two.

To come to ground is to find a home in circumstances and in the very physical body we inhabit in the midst of those circumstances and above all to face the truth, no matter how difficult that truth may be; to come to ground is to begin the courageous conversation, to step into difficulty and by taking that first step, begin the movement through all difficulties, to find the support and foundation that has been beneath our feet all along; a place to step onto, a place on which to stand, and a place from which to step.”

- from Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words by David Whyte

We The People

“I would argue that when we build ideological bunkers, and we hide out behind them, 9 times out of 10, the only thing I have in common with the people behind those bunkers, is that we all hate the same people.” Brene Brown

The memory of  the 21 day shutdown that started in late 1995 and spilled over into 1996 is still as clear as if it happened yesterday. The reason I remember it so well is that my husband Tom was a federal employee, and the financial impacts were beginning to show up under our own roof. Four daughters, college looming over the horizon, a big house with an equally big mortgage, and not nearly the savings put aside that would have been prudent. We stood facing each other in our family room, trying not to let fear and uncertainty get the best of us. Truthfully, we were in much better shape than some, as we had a nice home we could sell if need be, both had great jobs (when allowed to go to work), health insurance, good resumes and experience, no car payments, and were both in good health. Be that as it may, it was still a big, scary deal. Thankfully, eventually, yet another political impasse came to an end.

As I write this, it is day 28 of the current shutdown, with no end in sight. To say that I’m pissed off and worried about the impact this is having on individuals, families, our country, and the world is putting it mildly. I’m ready for cooler, saner, more reasonable heads to prevail, for egos and partisanship  to step down, integrity and common sense to step up, and for our elected officials to get on with the business of working for us. All of us. It’s time for them to stop pointing fingers, grandstanding, and placing  the blame on somebody else. Perhaps you agree with me.

However.

What we ask of our elected officials we must first ask of ourselves.

I rarely write about political things, and promise to keep that trend, but today, I had to get this off my chest. And I need to read what I am about to write.

They, our elected officials, are no more responsible than we are for the current stalemate, not just of this current shutdown, but in our country as a whole. Politicians didn’t and can’t create the kind of vitriol and divisiveness we are currently experiencing without our permission. We the people, starting with me, are as culpable as anyone.

Every time we blame those on the other side of the political aisle, we increase the ever widening divide.

When our only news sources are those that align with our perspective, we narrow our view and widen the gap.

Standing with only those who agree with us, we lose sight of our common ground.

When we are only in conversation with those who share our views, we miss our larger shared story.

When we talk in terms of them, they, those people, that idiot, elitists, Trump voters, bleeding heart liberals, fill-in-your-own-blanks, any collective goodwill we have is further eroded.

Whether hurling hateful words at the man who lives at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, or sticking pins in a voodoo doll of the newly sworn in speaker of the house, we widen the national divide.

We the people are better than this. Or at least we can be.

Instead of criticizing others from afar, let’s have the courage to be the change in our own little neck of the woods, because if it doesn’t start there, it never will.

Thanks for listening.

The Dark Night

“The first fingers of light appear on the horizon, and ever so deftly and gradually, they pull the mantle of darkness away from the world.”

John O’Donohue - Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

There are times when life so overwhelms us with grief, pain, fear, and loss that we don’t think we will survive. Some do not, and there is no room for judgement or criticism, only mercy and compassion. I have not inhabited their hearts, only my own, and the only reference I have is my own experience of being plunged into darkness, not knowing when even the faintest glimmer of light will appear.

In those dark nights, we are alone with our own hearts. No matter how much love and support we have surrounding us, no one can make our way for us as we wait for the light to appear. Others may walk with us, but they cannot walk for us. Others may help us bear our burden, but ultimately it is ours to carry. But the treasures of our darkness belong to us. Whatever we discover in the blackness of our night has the capacity to transform us in ways only possible when we have found our way to the dawn of our new day.

In the darkness, while we find ourselves alone, we would do well to remember that we bring with us all of our hard earned resources. Any strength, wisdom, faith, grace, and love that we have accumulated thus far will be our faithful companions, and will sustain us through the night. In her book, Learning To Walk in the Dark, Barbara Brown Taylor says, “…I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so that there is really on one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light.”

I’ve often wondered if the power that brought the world into being knew that we would need to find hope for a return of the light on a daily basis. That there is a deeper meaning behind the daily cloaking of the world in darkness, so that once again, we can be reminded of the illuminating light that is sure to follow.

The Day We Need

This morning one of my daughters called me on her way into work. Nothing huge, just a few moments of connection and talking about the thises-and-thats of life, and as she pulled into the parking lot, I asked her about the day before her. What did it look like? What did she want it to look like? She couldn’t pinpoint what kind of day it might be, or what sort of day she hoped it would be. As I sometimes do, I threw out a prayer over the phone for her to have “Exactly the day she needed. Amen.”

About to sign off on our call, it occurred to me, that our days often unfold in unanticipated ways, and bring us things we don’t want, wish, or hope for, and yet along they come. Just before hanging up I encouraged her, when one of those things showed up, to ask herself, “How is this thing that just happened part of exactly the day I need?” She liked that thought, and headed into work.

Anything that comes our way has the possibility of informing us, inspiring, nudging, challenging and transforming us. So before we get all wrapped around the axle about why the hell this or that had to happen to spoil, interrupt, or ruin our day, let’s take some time to consider how it might be part of exactly the day we need.

I don’t know what kind of day hers turned out to be, but I am trusting that whatever it was, it was exactly the one she needed.

Keys, Not Cages

The small man

builds cages for everyone

he

knows.

While the sage,

who has to duck his head

when the moon is low,

keeps dropping keys all night long

for the

beautiful

rowdy

prisoners.

- Hafiz

With gratitude to Dane Anthony for sharing this gorgeous poem with me.