Month: July 2019

I have a friend who is in the hospital right now getting treatment for cancer. The cancer has recently moved into his brain. He’s been having a tough time speaking and writing. Things have been getting muddled and blurred together; but he is so very courageous. As long as I’ve known him he has been courageous. He has never seemed to me to get stuck in pretense. He is who he is. He is not one to seek approval or to hide. He is true to himself, which is risky. It can knock you down sometimes. He is open…and he is vulnerable in a way that I would also like to be. He is a teacher for me. And the result is that many have gathered around him who love him for exactly who he is. 

As I sat down to write this afternoon, I asked myself a question: “What’s important to me today?” 

This is. He is. His beautiful heart and this whole crazy human experience is. Love is. 

There are those who say there is no such thing as love. There are those who say we make it up. We dream it. I have been told that we are desperately painting love onto a canvas of black emptiness in order to feel better. 

Maybe it’s all true. How do I really know? If it is, I still wouldn’t miss the experience for anything. Let it be. The miracle is that there can be love at all, simply because we say so. There can be love because it’s felt…it moves us. There can be love because this strange dream brings it to us in full living color. It catches our breath. We are somehow held by it. 

Love is the greater context, as best I can tell, in which everything, everything, everything is constantly happening. It’s not just the things we call “good” or “happy” or “kind” or “just”. The whole confusing, beautiful mess is love…somehow. 

Somehow. 

The things that hurt are love. The things that break our hearts are love. What a kick in the head, right? Because that means there is a place of forgiving everything. We balk at that. I have certainly balked at that, myself. It can’t all be okay. That’s much too chaotic an idea. It feels like anarchy. It feels dangerous. 

You know what it feels like? It feels like loss of control. 

Look around you, though. Look at your life. Look at your own journey and the ways you’ve gotten stronger. Look at the ways you know how to be tender or strong or generous or brave because you know what it’s like to struggle. 

I’m saying I call that love. Love did that. 

So, today…this is my little love note to my buddy.

I am find I am sort of following up on my Barnes and Noble thoughts today…

Sometimes I find myself in a mental loop. I think maybe I can do a thing, like sitting here and writing, and at the same time I fuss and worry that I’m doing it wrong.. How crazy is that? It’s a circle…a self-perpetuating “issue”. 

I’ve heard some people call it “trying to solve a problem from the level of the problem” or, even more consisely, “an unwinnable game.” Ever been there?

What can I do with that besides sit and stare at the cursor on my computer and choke? Every now and then I get so tired of listening to my own story. So, then…what?

Find another story to tell? Laugh? Scream? Pray for grace? Sit at the computer with my hands on the keyboard and type whatever may come to mind (which is pretty much what I’m doing right now)?  

Here’s another suggestion I just read from an author named Rhonda Douglas: create a ritual. Rhonda says she lights a candle and invites the muse. I think that’s a lovely idea. There’s something grounding about ritual. I’m finding the quote I added here from Rumi can help settle me in.

I pick up little clues along the way from those who have gone before: for instance, that all of this is okay. Even that it doesn’t always feel okay is still perfectly okay. Martha Beck speaks about that. There is a wise grace to our difficult feelings…in feelings of failure, too. There is a certain intuitive intelligence to them. They’re part of what creates a full and complete life, especially when we really tap in. What a deep, compassionate place we can find for ourselves when we give in to that. 

Thank heaven there is more than, say, sunshine and ice cream all the time. Just the idea has me feeling sick and sunburned. It’s actually pretty obvious life has a better way. Still, in those moments when I might be actively looking for sunshine and ice cream (instead of checking out the thunderstorm that’s actually happening), I can tend to forget that we’re here to explore all of it.

On the day I am writing this, I am sitting in a Barnes and Noble. I am absorbing the atmosphere of words and the scent of books. I am having an iced coffee on this hot summer day…typing onto the blank page to see what might come out. I want to let myself to follow something into the unknown. 

At this moment, I am an open channel…waiting…curious.

I let myself relax and follow the current. See what rises. See what moves through my heart…and through my noticing.

 I hear the soft sounds of muffled conversation over coffee. There are sounds of orders being placed and names being called. I find myself reminding myself to be careful not to overhear. (Be respectful; don’t be invasive. Attention is my purpose here…not rudeness.)  There is a couple speaking softly. I see the wife has a stack of travel books. Another woman is talking to what appear to be her daughters as they choose something to read. Some other women are laughing together. The sounds blend together. They’re somehow comforting. Human interaction. Human connection. 

Of course, there are also those bent over their “devices”, just as I sometimes am; being pulled out of the world around them into a different sort of world…the electronic world of pixels and text messages and scrolling. Though I do have my computer in front of me, this feels qualitatively different right now. 

It is interesting to consciously be present in this world. It is interesting to breathe, and not to rush. It is interesting to let my mind rest and be okay here. 

I look around. Science and Nature. Crafts and Hobbies. Biography. History. Women’s Interests. Science Fiction. Fantasy and Adventure. Historical Fiction. Mystery and Thrillers. Business. Romance. Health and Wellness. The list goes on and on. Homer’s Iliad, Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and Harry Potter are prominent in the signage.  All around me there are so many with something to say…something they wanted to share with the world. So many voices calling out…beckoning. I find I am grateful for this world of language.

I also notice it feels like I have been interfacing with an interesting phenomenon as I type: if I think I have to or need to or should do a thing…the wind tends to go out of my sails. It suddenly becomes less fun and I become less interested. Resistance rears its procrastinating, stubborn head. The child comes out in protest: “I don’t want to!” I’m finding there’s a slippery balance between discipline and spontaneity. I want to be dedicated. I also want what I’m doing to be fresh…otherwise it’s pretty useless. 

Right now, I am looking for the place where this balance is found.

It is fascinating to me, the way a life happens. It can’t be forced into a box. There can be intention. There can be a vision. Still…there are always surprises. What life hasn’t had surprises? What life has ever gone exactly as expected? Expectation is practically a dirty word, it gets us into all kinds of trouble. Not to mention that the vision can move and change and shift. Then there’s a new vision and a new path. 
Plot twist!

It has seemed to beg the question: What am I supposed to do? I’ve wondered that over and over again. What am I being called to? Why does my life look the way it does? Why does it seem so messy and strange and random and nonsensical? Where is it supposed to go? What is my destiny? Which has turned out, for me, to be a rather humorous basket of queries.

What if what I’m “supposed” to do is exactly what I’m doing? Always. Moment by moment by moment. What if I couldn’t possibly be doing anything else? Because, hey, that’s what’s happening, right? Just look…the truth of it is right here, right now. (Is there anything else but right now?) 

What shows up…whatever is actually in front of me…is called “grace”. At least this has been my experience. I know it may sound crazy, but my thoughts, my decisions, my desires, my goals…whatever else they may appear to be; they are also grace. They’re given. They’re handed to me from someplace I don’t understand. (Where do they come from, anyway? They seem to rise up out of nowhere.) They’re gifts that give momentum to this life.

I used to crave being safe. Now, it seems to be something more like “learning to become comfortable being uncomfortable” is the way…because not knowing is the truth. 

I don’t know about tomorrow. I don’t know about five minutes from now. Living anxiously on pins and needles doesn’t seem to make anything any better. So I am going about learning a new way. I don’t claim to have it all “figured out”. (I don’t even care for that phrase anymore. It doesn’t seem to resonate with the way things actually work.) Still, a new way seems to be happening…all at its own pace.

A friend asks what I’m seeking. There could be a lot of words for it. Freedom. Peace. Authenticity. Reality. God. 

Maybe the answer is “nothing”. Maybe I’m not seeking anything at all anymore because I can see that all I have, and all I need, is actually right in front of me. It’s already here, nurturing me. Reality is here. It always has been. I don’t have to look for it. Maybe I’m not seeking anything anymore because I’ve become okay with not needing to answer every question. Maybe some things were never meant to be solved. Maybe it’s more fun to leave my heart open to mystery and smile.

So here I sit, trying to create an “authentic” life. (Whatever that means, which seems to come down to whatever it means to me.) Sometimes it’s a lot of fun, like a toy or a game or just dancing; and at other times it starts to feel very serious and important…even grave.  It’s all changing weather reports. Changing thoughts and emotions. All the while, somehow, everything is fine. How could it not be? The current running underneath it all, carrying it all, is bigger than myself. It knows the way down the river.

The river is not separate from me. Reality is not separate from me. I can’t go the wrong way.

Begin. Most of the time it feels like that’s the most difficult part.

The conversation in my head goes like this:

“Begin what?”

 “Begin where?”

 “I don’t know how.”

It sounds like:

 “To what purpose?”

“Where am I going?”

“What’s the point?”

“What’s expected of me?”

“How do I get this right?”

Interesting. Is someone actually expecting anything?

What if you let it show up exactly the way it does? What if you’re not trying to go anywhere in particular…except past this place where you haven’t been moving? What if where you’re going shows up in the process. 

What if you just…begin? 

Type a word. Type two. See if the dam begins to break. See if something comes trickling out.

“What if it’s silly?”

“What if it doesn’t make any sense?”

“What if it’s awful?”

If you really think it’s that bad, you can keep it to yourself. No one ever has to know. How could you hurt yourself by playing with it?

“No one will care.”

You will!  You will have taken a step past your fear. 

Begin.

“What if I hate it?”

“What if they hate it?”

Then you will have learned something. Won’t you? And if you put it out there and everybody laughs or scoffs or rolls their eyes…tell me something:

Will you die?

Begin.

A friend of mine suggested that I write “two lousy pages a day” as a way of creating a habit. Two pages. Good, bad, indifferent. Doesn’t matter. Just allow myself to play with it.  That means I get to take a deep breath because, hey, it doesn’t have to turn out “great”. I can give myself a break. All I need to do is to put my tush in a chair and type…and see.  This is what I have heard certain writers call “showing up.” I like the idea…a lot…and I am hereby dedicating myself to this practice.

This same friend also suggests I look at what’s most important to me and get curious about it. He suggests I do research to build my competency muscles. I can get stronger at knowing I can carry myself in the world. I can learn to navigate things I think I don’t know instead of being at the mercy of being unsure. I can be a student of my life. So, I’m investigating what that might look like. 

What do I want to know about? Where have I been afraid to tread?

If what I want is to eventually get a book written…what would I like to write about? What do I need to get clear about first? Why am I writing, anyway? Deep down…what’s my purpose for sitting in the chair?

Eventually, it would be nice to make some money at writing, somehow, certainly. No doubt. And I’ve realized that making money, as a motivation, will only take me so far. 

I want to connect with people…and I want to open myself up for people to be able to connect with me. This much is clear…and it’s certainly a beginning.  I feel there’s even more. It has something to do with being engaged in what I’m doing…being absorbed and interested. 

So I would love to hear from you: What motivates you? What’s most important to you? What are you most curious about?

As of last month, I am sixty-one years old.

I will tell you, one of the main things I notice I do not particularly like about the way I look at this age are my eyes. The left one is rather cock-eyed and tends to wander off on its own. I’ve lost the central vision in it, and so it doesn’t track well anymore. I can find myself a bit self conscious about that…especially in a moment when I am looking into someone else’s eyes. It can feel awkward. But I am learning to love the woman who sometimes feels awkward about her eyes. 

That…and my skin. My skin was never even in its coloring, it seems as if it always was rather red and blotchy in places. Sun damage through the years hasn’t  helped. Still, I enjoy the fact that I am not the type who refuses to leave the house without make-up. In fact, I only rarely put it on, anymore. Maybe that’s just a little bit of rebellion. Maybe it’s allowing myself to be free. Maybe it’s a combination. 

At this stage of my life, I am learning to let go of the way I look more than I could in my youth. I have gone through stages where I hated my body and I definitely hated photographs of myself. I can appreciate myself, even celebrate myself, more these days. I have stopped comparing myself to other women so much, and I have stopped feeling a need to compete against them; as I did when I was young. Everything seemed so much more limited then…so small and finite and adversarial. The world is becoming a kinder place for me as I am becoming gentler toward myself. It is opening up. 

So let me tell you what’s wonderful about entering my sixties: most of the ideas I used to carry about the barometer for my self-worth being outside me are gone. 

When I was younger I thought, “of course”, that I needed to measure up against whatever was expected of me. If I was getting feedback that I wasn’t acceptable, (not smart enough…pretty enough…talented enough…interesting enough…whatever), then I  certainly wasn’t. That’s just the way I thought it was. I was the sum total of what people thought about me. The proof of my worth was out there. “Obviously.” 

I didn’t know any better. 

 If I wasn’t getting the feedback that I “belonged”, I didn’t. I hadn’t considered belonging to myself. I hadn’t considered accepting myself, with whatever quirks and weirdnesses there may be. I can be more tender with myself these days, which is lovely. Opening my heart to myself allows me, small step by small step by small step, to open my heart to others, and to see a sort of all encompassing compassion that really comes from a place beyond my personal limitations. It’s not “me”, it’s not “mine”…it just is.

There are still places where I would like to grow: in self-reliance, in letting go of fear, in gratitude, in playfulness. I am not finished yet by a long shot. I sit in meditation and I notice. I feel. Alchemy happens. It’s a winding road with plenty of switchbacks. Meanwhile, the view is fascinating and sometimes catches me off guard with how breathtakingly stunning it is.

On this Independence Day, I am noticing that my country doesn’t look a lot like those words of the pledge of allegiance.

I have mostly been stepping back from speaking about politics for some time now. Certainly that does not mean I don’t have an opinion or that I am oblivious to what is going on in my country.

I find there is a lot of “I’m right, you’re wrong!” happening.

There is a lot of righteous indignation and anger…and sadness. There is name calling and finger pointing and sarcasm, to the point where it seems to have become a national sport. All of which I feel does no good at all if the point is to actually change something. We appear to be at loggerheads. Not to call it into being, but sometimes I feel as if my country is on the brink of civil war.

And I wonder what’s to be done about that.

I find there are things occurring that surprise me…and mystify me…and twist my gut. I find there are things occurring that seem beyond unkind. They seem brutal and cruel.

How do I deal with that with clarity? How do I deal with that in a way that actually feels good to my heart and moves me toward love instead of away? How do I deal with it in a way that creates more understanding instead of less? (And I mean understanding on my part…because isn’t that where it begins?)

And how do I deal with it fearlessly?

It’s not just “can’t we all just get along?” It’s so much more than that. It’s about actually beginning to hear from a deeper place. Because when things don’t make sense, what doesn’t make sense isn’t “out there”. The confusion isn’t “out there”at all. It’s right here. It’s living in me.