There comes a point when we have to let go of how we want it to be, and surrender to how it is. Not in a giving up sort of way, but a giving in to the truth as it stands right now. When we surrender, we stop pushing against what we face and work with it instead, we cease fighting against what we don’t want and begin moving toward what we do.
Get Moving
“We do not think ourselves into new ways of living, we live ourselves into new ways of thinking.” ~ Richard Rohr
“You probably aren’t going to be able to think yourself out of this one Molly.”
Good words offered to me by a good friend during a recent conversation as I sat out on my front porch in the waning light in Washington, while he was on the other end of the phone in the waning light of southern California.
It is easy for me to get too involved with my own feelings for my own good, not to mention the good of everyone around me. I try and think my way to the other side of whatever it is, and, there is a time for sitting with our emotions in order to understand what they are telling us. But then it’s time to get moving, whether we feel like it or not, which, for the record, we probably won’t.
I’m not talking about running away from our emotions. They are, as the 13th century Persian poet, Rumi, reminds us in his poem, The Guesthouse, “…sent to us as a guide from beyond”. However, we all know that any guest can overstay their welcome.
Sitting too long has been referred to as the new smoking, and has been linked to all kinds of health risks. The same goes for sinking into the easy chair of our emotions. The longer we sit and think about them, the harder it is to get up.
In both cases, the key to our wellbeing is to get moving.
(With gratitude to DB)
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What's Love Got To Do With It?
Valentine’s Day can be rough.
It has become a commercially driven day to express our love for that “special someone” in just the right way.
But what if we don’t have a special someone? What if we have lost them in the myriad of painful ways that mean we are no longer able to share our lives with those we’ve loved? Under those circumstances, Valentine’s Day becomes a reminder of what we’ve lost.
But what if we are happily single? What if we are content sharing our heart with no one but ourselves? Under those circumstances Valentine’s Day can cause us to doubt our choice to go it alone as we field questions from total strangers about how we are going to celebrate a day in which being single seems like a problem.
But what if we don’t feel lovable? What if we have lost sight of our inherent worth simply because we are citizens of the planet, created in the image of the power behind it all, and sent here to love the world within our reach? Under those circumstances, Valentine’s Day becomes a reminder of how far we’ve drifted from our source and our soul.
But what if we don’t feel particularly dazzled by the one we love? What if we have found ourselves in one of those rough patches when it is glaringly obvious that love is as much, if not more of, a choice than a feeling? Under those circumstances Valentine’s Day becomes a reminder that love is far more complicated and much grittier than simple sayings on greeting cards and candy hearts.
Whenever money gets involved with love, it gets tricky. By some estimates consumers will spend in excess of $27 billion. That’s a lot of candy hearts.
So, what’s love got to do with it anyway?
When it comes to Valentine’s Day, who knows.
When it comes to life?
Everything.
Photo: pexels.com
Life As Improv
I quit taking piano lessons at the age of 17 when my teacher wanted me try improv. It was a convenient time to stop as college loomed closer, but truth be told, I didn’t like the idea of leaving the notes on the page and wandering off to see where the music would take me.
Fast forward to my first piano lesson at the age of 61. Driving there that evening I rehearsed my message. “Anything but improv.” Sitting down at the piano with Bob who is a scientist by day, a musician by night and any other time he can find his way to a key board, his first words were, “And we’re going to play around with improv.”
I had two choices. Get up and leave, or take a chance out in the wilds of improvisational playing. I stayed put and starting that very first night we had fun chasing the music together.
In the long run I cut my piano lessons short, not because of anything other than some of the things that life threw my way, which is exactly like improv. It is about mastering the essential chords and keys of your life, and then following the music where it takes you.
Photo by Karyme França from Pexels
On The Road Again
The early weeks in a new year are often a time of introspection and reflection as we allow the dust of the previous year to settle, and our vision and roadmap for the new one to begin to emerge.
It is time well spent.
On one condition.
Insight is cheap unless we take action on what we’ve discovered during the days of turning our gaze inward. That deeper understanding of who we are and what we care about is meant to energize our lives out in the world. It doesn’t even matter if we don’t yet have a crystal clear vision for the road ahead. It is time to start taking action, trusting that we’ll gain the clarity we need through the process of moving forward.
Do you remember those toy cars that had an internal mechanism called a pullback motor? The more you pulled the car backwards, the more the energy built up until when you released the car, it shot forward.
We are seven weeks into this new year. It’s time to stop pulling our cars backward, let them go, and hang on for the ride.
(With gratitude to Dane Anthony for reminding me about these tiny cars)
Photo: PRR on pexels.com
Blast From The Past
In 2006 one of my daughters was a 20-year-old college student, living in a 300 sq. ft. apartment in Missoula, Montana. One day shortly after one of those Family Weekends where we parents make endless runs to Target, fold piles of laundry, and scream our hearts out at football games, she wrote me a lovely card to thank me for the time, the meals out, and whatever we brought home from Target to make her space feel cozy.
She addressed it, sealed it, and stuck it in a drawer somewhere.
This last weekend she unearthed that un-mailed card when she and her husband cleaned out their garage. Today over coffee, my now 34-year-old daughter and I opened that card. It was filled with wonderful words of love and appreciation, and two checks written to pay me back for something or other. It had found its way me at long last, and, in perfect timing.
Sometimes a blast from the past is exactly what we need for the here and now.
( And no, I’m not going to cash those checks.)
Test Results
I had some blood drawn the other day at the request of one of my doctors to check in on the levels of a few key hormones. The test results are in and once my doc has had a chance to review them, we will discuss whether we need to make any tweaks int treatment in the name of staying healthy and energized.
Lately I’ve noticed too much fluctuation in mood and outlook to ignore, which has me wondering if there are some key components that have dropped below optimal levels. I know what the vital ingredients are to keep me healthy and engaged with life, and after a quick review of my essential elements, it is clear that a few are in need of tweaking.
When things don’t seem quite right, it’s time to test our levels of that which keeps us at our best.
Photo: Chokniti Khongchum on pixels.com
(Un)Boxing Day
You know how when you move from one house to another, it all starts out in an organized fashion. We box up things in an orderly fashion, close and tape them up, and carefully label the cartons, identifying the contents inside.
And then all hell breaks loose.
As moving day grows closer, the stacks of neatly labeled boxes are hidden by the ones with the dreaded MISC. scribbled hastily on the side.
Unpacking at the new home, boxes are opened in an organized fashion, and tucked away in their new location. But no matter how carefully we culled our belongings at the previous house, there are so many things that no longer fit the lives we now have. And so, as we unbox, we begin to fill up other boxes of things that no longer serve us, or perhaps never did. Some go to friends and family, others to the Goodwill, and still others to the dump. Then we get to those dreaded MISC. boxes filled with a mishmash of who knows what. I’ve never had the courage to do it, but I am always tempted to not even open them and just take them directly to the Goodwill.
This familiar scenario is fresh on my mind as we’ve spent the afternoon helping my sister and her husband unpack at their beautiful new home. The stack of boxes headed elsewhere is growing, and their load is lightening.
(Un) boxing doesn’t just apply to our physical stuff, but to our personal “stuff” too. Stories that no longer serve us, or perhaps never did, and issues we’d rather not face, get thrown into a box marked MISC., stuck on a shelf, and take up unnecessary space.
(Un) Boxing Day anyone?
Puttering
I’ve been away from home for a few weeks, and am just now finally settling back in. There is always a time of transition to get back into the swing of things, and my spirits are no exception. A day or two of a gloomy soul isn’t out of the norm. I used to fight it. I used to try and push through it to the other side. I used to try and figure it out.
Now I putter.
A day of wandering here and there, tending to a bit of this and a bit of that, and tinkering with whatever needs tinkering, is like opening the windows and letting the fresh air clear out the dust that seems to have accumulated inside
I’ve never seen it listed as a spiritual practice, but as it turns out, puttering is good for the soul.
Photo from pixels.com
Milestones
“I’m going to say three words, and I want you to remember them.”
Chair
Lemon
Sunrise
Yesterday I had what is called a Medicare Wellness Exam. We covered all the basics of a normal exam, with the addition of a few new twists now that I am old enough to be a card carrying Medicare recipient. Like remembering those three words, which the PA asked me to recall and repeat several times throughout the visit.
That exam was a milestone event even if no one said so. It was a stark reminder that I’m on the far side of youth, and that my final horizon here on this planet is getting closer every day.
Milestones aren’t reserved for those of us with at least 65 trips around the sun. They belong to the forty-something with their first pair of readers, new parents with someone other than themselves to care for, a high school graduate paying their first month’s rent, a recent retiree with time to spare, or a child wobbling off on a bicycle without the steadying hand of a parent.
We are all heading in the same direction, and there’s no turning back.
Every milestone is a reminder to be all-in, and if we aren’t, then today is the day to start.
(And yes, I still remember them.)
Chair
Lemon
Sunrise
Photo by erdinç ersoy from Pexels