Under Construction, Detour Ahead →

I drove across the country with my mother and cat in the passenger seat, the back filled with my things and bags of food. It took five days, there happened to be a heat wave, and the states that seem to take the longest to pass through—Nebraska and Wyoming—were under construction. Wyoming had so much road construction, we mostly were never on the highway we intended. But my car rolled along, and we arrived grateful 2,480 miles later in Oregon.

Then I found my house out of sorts, a month of its construction ensued, a detour from my plan (which of course was neatly laid out), and, oh, you know, a few surprises (like two weeks of Texas heat!). I mostly laughed (at first, I cried). What are the signs, show me the lessons, I wondered over the weeks of this.

I still don't know the answer to why—why this, why now, why me—the questions many of us ask when something goes wrong. But this I do know: detours, slow-downs, and unexpected orange cones in your way, you still get to where you are going, and there you are.

And, here I am after a rough ride, the stuff of life and its objects minor, because what really matters is just fine. I am well, feeling good.

Sorry, I'm Busy

I've been thinking a lot about self-awareness, and about what gets in the way. What I landed on is this: the state of, “I'm so busy.”

Some of us really are fully distracted, having barely a moment, some of it hard to avoid, influenced by family, work, money, and the choices we make, like how much we say yes to and what we sign up for.

Several years ago I read a brief piece describing an author's New Year's resolution, his name now forgotten. After many years, he said he'd realized the most important one: he wanted to be available.

I think of it often because for many years I wasn't—not available to others and not available to myself, not in the generous and genuine way I wanted to be then, and strive for now. I really believe that most of our busyness is an avoidance of deeper reflection and connection.

And we get rewarded culturally for being and looking busy—it's a sign of good, hard-working and honest character. To not be busy, in fact, is often seen as lazy. So we run around, talk fast, drive fast, check our phones, always look for something to do while we're already doing something. But all around us is nature wanting to be adored, people needing to be heard and seen, and an inner self that must create and express, as is our true nature.

Something I'm thinking about and posing here: If we're not self aware, available to ourselves and others, what are we missing and who is running the show?

Unfurling

We see the buds of what is to become. Wrapped up tight, folded. It unfurls, opens to a blossom. We see tiny mysteries grow into leaves, fruit, flowers. All around us, we see abundance. Complete. Enough. Always flowing.

The Way of the Peaceful Warrior (Part Two)

So, how do we train the mind to be peaceful?

Once a beloved person did something terrible and I felt wronged. I was very upset about it. A friend made a simple comment, “Don't take it personally.” Well, in my head I replied to my friend: You have no idea how horrible this is, how awful I feel, this was bad, it was wrong. I dismissed what he said, believing he didn't know what it was like to experience deep suffering.

It took many years to understand the wisdom. When my friend made his comment, I'd taken that pain and the details of what caused it, packed it up, stuffed it down inside my invisible backpack and had been carrying it around strapped to me like it belonged. Like it was mine. I was carrying around something heavy, something that didn't make me feel good, and something that would never make me happy or bring me pleasure.

This kind of difficulty can be an opening up, training us into peaceful warriors.

American Buddhist nun Pema Chodron puts it this way: “The central question of a warrior's training is not how we avoid uncertainty and fear but how we relate to discomfort. How do we practice with difficulty, with our emotions, with the unpredictable encounters of an ordinary day?” In other words, how do we stand in the fire and offer love instead of fear, see it as a passing experience instead of a fixed state, stay open and curious and fluid?

We just do. We leave the nest. We know anything can happen. We see life for what it is. We trust the process. We laugh about the whole thing. We stay with it. As present as possible. We experience the present experience. And we leave it there. If it helps, we see it is a dream, and smile.

The Way of the Peaceful Warrior (Part One)

There are many spiritual teachings on the way of the peaceful warrior. One tenet is that all conflict is an illusion, meaning we have the power to train the mind to perceive and react in peace. The way to peace in the outer world is thought to begin inside each of us. When we achieve balance, it brings balance to others.

But what about when a power conflict arises and stirs us up in a way that seems unavoidable?

David Pond, national speaker and yoga instructor, suggests asking two questions:

1. Are you really threatened (survival, security)?

2. And, Do you really care about the outcome?

If you answer no to these two questions, reacting to the challenge is all ego, making yourself a scratching post for others' claws. But, he says, if in fact your survival is at stake and you care about the outcome, then he says, fight the battle with honor and the intent to win.

When all Your Desires are Distilled

I was looking for something about love and found it in Hafiz.

"When all your desires are distilled
You will cast just two votes:
To love more,
And be happy."

Possibly my favorite poet, and one of the world's favorites since the fourth century, Hafiz was born in Persia around the time of Chaucer in England, 100 years after Rumi. He's known as more than a poet...a playful genius, a Sufi Master, a spiritual teacher, and embraced as "a poet for poets" by Emerson. Humor and Heart and the Dance of Life fill the pages! The above is an excerpt from The Gift translated by Daniel Ladinsky. Here it is in full:

Your Seed Pouch
Lanterns
Hang from the night sky
So that your eye might draw
One more image of love upon your silk canvas
Before sleep.

Words from Him have reached you
And tilled a golden field inside.

When all your desires are distilled
You will cast just two votes:

To love more,
And be happy.

Take the sounds from the mouth-flute of Hafiz
And mix them into your seed pouch.

And when the moon says,
'It is time to
Plant,'

Why not dance,
Dance and
Sing?

My Losing Win

When I was in high school, there was an annual competition called, Mayor-For-The-Day. Students across the city could submit a speech, and if chosen, recite it at the mayor's office to a designated board. The winning student would act as mayor for one day, a pass from school and a good lunch the added perks

My first year I was picked to recite my speech, "Rising Above the Level of Mediocrity." I stood in front of well-dressed professionals wearing my only suit, bought with my own money from after-school jobs. I lost. The next year, I was back again with improvements, and lost a second time. My senior year, I had one last shot. My faith was unwavering, and I gave my ten-minute speech by memory. I lost a third time, getting instead a position on the mayor's cabinet, if I recall, Head of Taxes.

I didn't win the mayor spot, but I didn't fail either. Truth be told, I think I'm more proud of not winning; it took more courage to keep showing up. What I learned from three years of losing is that I get to decide what it means to win. Pressing on and believing in myself became the very embodiment of my speech to rise above. I wrote, "I set my goals higher than I can reach so that I may stretch..." And stretch I did.

Open, Let Go, Flow- (Part Two)

Letting go of something may feel as easy as the flow of water, we see it and it floats away. Other things may feel more like the rock in the stream: stuck, big, solid. One way to let go is to change one's perspective of the desire or experience. Ignoring it or renouncing it keeps us tied to it. In the same way, fighting it gives it power (and takes away power from Self).

One of the best spiritual teachers on "waking up" and letting go was Anthony De Mello, the well-known Jesuit priest and international public speaker who died in 1987. In his book of talks, Awareness: The Perils and Opportunities of Reality, he said:

"Don't renounce it, see through it. Understand its true value and...it will just drop from your hands. But...if you're hypnotized into thinking that you won't be happy without this, that, or the other thing, you're stuck. If you woke up, you'd simply drop the desire for it."

De Mello said we understand and "wake up" when we change the way we think about something, and what we feel tied to will drop away. And happiness? "You don't have to add anything to be happy," he said, "you need to drop something. You've got to drop illusions." Life is easy and delightful, he added, but hard on our illusions, ambitions, and cravings. So we awaken to our true nature, free, happy, flowing.

Open, Let Go, Flow (Part One)

Many of us, myself included, begin now to reflect on this past year and set intentions for the next. It's a unique time when we simultaneously look back to understand and prepare forward to deliberately craft the life we want.

As we let go of what we don't need, we open up to what better serves us. This release and opening allows our energy to flow in harmony. When a stream doesn't move as nature intends it becomes stagnant and unhealthy. But, a vibrant flowing stream is always changing, and is never the same stream twice.

Heraclitus of Ephesus, a Greek philosopher famous for his belief in ever-present change and, like that of Buddhists and other philosophers, the idea that everything flows, is known for this quote:

“Everything changes and nothing remains still...you cannot step twice into the same stream.” — Heraclitus

As we let go, we open and flow. Everything changes all the time. Vibrant, alive, we come into harmony with our true nature, like that of the stream.

Saying Grace

I don't remember saying grace before meals when I was growing up. But in my teens I adopted the practice, at first a thanks to God; later a thanks to the food--to the plants and animals and all that provided for me (even farmers, producers, truck drivers, and supermarket workers).

Recently I've been trying to practice gratitude every day--writing gratitude lists, saying all that I'm grateful for out loud, and meditating on gratitude as often as I can. Simply put, it makes me feel good. I become aware that my life is rich and wonderful.

Yet, while I've been practicing gratitude I realized I wasn't giving thanks for my food, and hadn't done so for a very long time. Last week, I started the practice anew. The honest truth is it's hard to start a new habit, and often the food is in my mouth before I remember, but I give thanks anyway, and keep giving thanks as I eat my meal. I say:

“This food nourishes me and makes me feel good and I give thanks for it.”

It's very simple and sets the intention I want: to be nourished, to be healthy, to feel well and to be filled with gratitude for my body and all that sustains me.

Do you have a prayer or saying for grace? Do you have a ritual of thanks before or after a daily meal?

The Power of Unplugging

Yesterday I was talking with my friend Julia about media dieting, a purposeful reduction or abstinence from things like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, email, and online news. Just like a food diet can take on different forms, so can a media diet. It might be daily time limits on Internet perusing or taking a full year off from social media, with many possibilities in between those extremes. (see David Roberts story about his year off media as a professional blogger: http://www.outsideonline.com/outdoor-adventure/media/Reboot-or-Die-Trying.html)

A few years back Julia and I did a thirty-day media diet (really, I was copying her). We told our Facebook friends we'd be offline for thirty days. I let non-Facebook friends know I'd be checking email once a week. My rule was that one day a week, I could use the Internet for banking or dire research, and quick email response, but no news and no wandering.

At first, it was weird because I had some automatic wiring to deal with. I'd think something and run to my computer to look it up, and realize that I'd have to find it some other way. I had to break the routine of coming home after work and checking email, news, and Facebook (I have never made Facebook available through my phone). And I still had a professional desk job where I had to use work email and the Internet. But I adapted quickly and soon logging into my home computer once on the weekend felt like a drag. Within a short time, I felt huge relief to be unplugged; I didn't have to read everything, know everything, and "like" everything. I could find other ways to connect. Phone calls, outings, walking, reading, and cooking took on a more pleasurable glow. To my surprise, I didn't look forward to coming back "on" after my thirty days.

I haven't done another diet since, but that experiment changed me. I never plugged back in the same way again. Julia told me yesterday that for her the big point is to be mindful of what you're paying attention to and the way it makes you feel. She said, "Media is generally urging us to be mindlessly distracted and reactionary. We have to find a way to make media work for us, for our good."

It's not so much about being "on" or "off" media but about being mindfully engaged. It seems that the power of unplugging is really a plugging in--to ourselves and others, and even nature, creative ideas, spiritual pursuits, and endless possibilities. Not on or off, but inward.

Play

I've been feeling the need to be less “in my head” and have more fun. And, I came across this fantastic On Being interview about the importance of play with Dr. Stuart Brown, founder and president of the National Institute for Play in California.

In the interview, play is defined as spontaneous, appears purposeless, is done for its own sake, and gives joy and pleasure. Play is a discovery of the player, emerging innately, not necessarily scripted, done a certain way or sensible. And, play is not just for children, according to Brown it's, “an indispensable part of being human.”

Play reveals our innate talent and is nature's way of telling us who we are. In other words, what gives you joy now and what gave you joy as a child is the key to who you are.

Isn't that liberating?! Let's play, have fun, experience joy—it's who we are!

To listen to the entire On Being podcast (which is truly worth it and free), click here