Old Friends

It is fair to say that I am comfortable with melancholy. She is an old friend who has been with me for as long as I can remember. There have been chapters in my life where hers was a constant presence, in others she lingered in the shadows, but she is never too far away. I am so at ease with her that before I know it, I’ve welcomed her in, and allowed her to make herself way too comfortable. Sitting with her for too long, I forget that there is work to be done. The good and hard work of crafting a meaningful life, and becoming the person I am here to be.

In a recent and rich conversation with my spiritual director, Dane, we talked quite a bit about my longtime relationship with my old friend Mel. Today I was looking over my notes from that conversation and found these words:

Melancholy—

I know it.

I’m comfortable with it.

We are old friends.

For today, I will build you a fire and you can rest. I on the other hand, have work to do, and I don’t need your help.

You may not have a long and abiding friendship with melancholy, but my guess is that you might have some version of my story. Are there any old friends for whom you can build a fire and let them rest? Remember, we’ve got work to do.

(As always, with gratitude to you DA)

Photo by Jenna Hamra from Pexels

Insight + Action = Transformation

Every day there is the possibility of discovering new things about ourselves and our way of being in the world.

If we pay attention, we can gain insight that can help us become more of the person we want to be.

Insight however, is cheap.

It’s what we do with it that counts.

Question 1: What insight have you discovered about yourself?

Question 2: What are you going to do about it?

Photo by Moises Besada from Pexels

Truth In Advertising

Sometimes a picture says it all.

We were living in Seattle, and my sister and I decided to take our daughters to the mall for a photo with Santa. Can you picture it? Long lines of parents with antsy little ones hyped up on sugar, “Santa” dressed in his well-worn costume, a photographer who’d rather be doing almost anything else, and parents who want to capture the magic of the season in the perfect photo. Good luck with that.

However, when it comes to Christmas and all the pressure to get it exactly right, this picture seems perfect to me, because it tells the real story. The one that makes room for things turning out not at all like we planned, but as things really are.

The Magician

Fear is a magician. It distorts the truth, and conjures up images of potential disaster to distract us from the present moment. Captivated by fear’s illusions we believe what we see instead of daring to trust ourselves.

It isn’t that fear isn’t real, it’s just that we shouldn’t confuse it with reality.

The Christmas Tree

Every year since building our home, we’ve bundled up and headed out into the woods to cut our Christmas tree. I’m kind of picky about the tree, so we usually have to wander a bit to find just the right one. It isn’t about the perfect tree. It’s about finding one the right one. I prefer pine over fir, and ample space between the limbs to showcase our motley crew of ornaments illuminated by little white lights. Along with the tree the house is decorated with greens, candles, a nativity scene, Christmas blankets, Christmas mugs for sipping toddies and such, and a host of other decorations we’ve gathered over the years.

This year however, the day before we were going to cut our tree we went to an open house held by a local non-profit that we support. Along with hot cider and cookies, there were already cut Christmas trees for the taking. Trees cut as part of an effort to create a healthier forest, which seems like a Christmas present to all of us.

We took one home.

Tonight we put it up.

With lights.

Period.

Some years are made to pull out all the stop

Others to simply stop and savor the quiet darkness of this holy time.

This is such a year.

(With gratitude to Mt. Adams Resource Stewards for our tree and everything you do to make the world better.)

About Face

Life becomes a matter of showing up and saying yes.

~ Richard Rohr

Two days after Thanksgiving I was up early before most of the others tucked into every nook and cranny of our home were awake. Throwing on my coat and boots I headed out into the cold and still dark morning because Gracie-the-chocolate labradoodle needed to go outside. Truthfully, I needed to go ousidet too. Every day for the past couple of weeks seemed to have required everything I had to give, the day that lay before me did too, and frankly, I wasn’t sure that I was up to the task. Not, at least, as the kind of person I like to bring to the party on any given day. I was tired and spent, and when I get like that grace, joy, and gratitude aren’t my forte’.

Standing out facing the pines, the house behind me, I waited for the dog to take care of her morning business, pondering the day ahead. I dreaded it, unable to imagine anything other than making it through. I wanted to turn my back on the day and pretend it wasn’t waiting for me when I walked back inside.

And then In the morning stillness, these words rose up:

How you go back into the house will determine the kind of day you have.

In that moment I knew that it was up to me. I could show up and say ‘yes’ to the day before me or not. It was my choice. It’s always my choice. A truth that is rarely convenient is that we have far more choice over who we want to be in any given moment than we give ourselves credit for.

Turning around to face the house, and the day before me, I headed back inside.

It was a good day.

Put-And-Take

We have what we call a “put-and-take” savings account as a way of having ready cash when we need it. Every month we put money in there in order to be prepared for expenditures ahead, and, every month it seems we take some of the money out for said expenses.

Money in.

Money out.

Money in.

Money out.

You might describe it as a savings account with a revolving door. The funds are continually deposited and withdrawn to save for and pay for the cost of living. It strikes me as a good metaphor for our lives. We spend ourselves in the service of what matters to us, and in order to do that we must also continually fund our inner account. What it means to do that is unique to each of us, and can change wildly depending upon our life chapter. What matters is that we do it as best we can, because whether talking about money or our life, we can’t spend what we don’t have.

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It's Out Of Our Hands

It is tempting to get attached to a hoped for outcome. To look down the road to the other side of a conversation, and anticipate it going exactly as we have planned. And if, and often when, it doesn’t we are disappointed in ourselves, the others involved, and the entire interaction.

In getting attached to the outcome we forget that what is truly important is to show up fully, speak truthfully, listen well, and be the kind of person we want to be throughout.

The rest is out of our hands.

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Time's A Wastin'

Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest. And the only way an idea can be made manifest in our world is through collaboration with a human partner. It is only through a human’s efforts that an idea can be escorted out of the ether and into the realm of the actual.

~ Elizabeth Gilbert: Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

For the past year, or more if I’m being completely honest, several ideas have diligently knocked on my inner doorstep. I’ve tried to ignore them, have pretended no one was at home, and peeked through the shutters to see if they are still there. They are, and I’ve yet to invite them in. If not careful, one day I will check on them only to find that they have moved on, my resolve to finally collaborate with them regretfully too little and too late.

I know the power of an idea that suddenly strikes, and the magic that happens when we accept its invitation. Shit gets done. People’s lives are touched, usually none more than ours, and we have the chance to share our gifts with the world. And yet, acting on an idea when it makes itself known continues to be a growing edge. I’ve learned first hand the energy, courage, and grit required to see an idea through, and the regret that will haunt me if I don’t.

As Joaquin and Reese crooned in Walk The Line, time’s a wastin’, and with only 25 more days left in the year I’ve decided to throw open the door, invite those ideas in, and see what kind of trouble we can get into together. I’ll keep you posted.

Any ideas knocking on your door?

Time’s a wastin’.

Photo: Pexels

Doing What Makes Sense

Yesterday I spent some time by myself getting everything out of my head and down onto paper. It took several pages.

Today my plan was to begin working on some of those things. Things like creating a writing calendar for the upcoming year, and developing some ideas to be used with clients, in workshops, and for upcoming speaking engagements. It quickly became clear my brain simply wasn’t ready to think in creative and expansive ways, and that attempting to tackle any of those today made no sense.

At first I felt bad about that. Like I was somehow failing myself and my work. However, rather than hit the couch to watch the entire last season of Man In The High Castle, I glanced back over my list from the previous day to see if there was anything there that did make sense to do today given the condition of my non-creative, non-expansive brain.

There was.

Clean and organize the pantry.

It took about three hours. Moving slowly and putting things in order felt like meditation. And just like the orderly pantry shelves, my thoughts began to settle into place, and my creative, expansive brain that had gone missing showed up, ready for me to reach for it another day.

Whenever possible, doing what makes sense makes good sense.