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April 12th, 2011 …and we all know what happens when we look down……
Everyone has their own focal point; that lighthouse that beckons when we stray from that which we believe is important in life. For me, that just happens to be God. Many times, when we stray from our focal point, it is unintentional and unknowingly. Major losses and crises in our lives knock us off the path we walk. Over the course of this past two years, that has happened to me. The loss of my husband's mom, retiring after 35 years of teaching, selling my home and moving to another state, and unexpectedly losing my own mom all happened within the space of less than 18 months. The rug of my life was pulled out from under me and I went spinning out of control over the course of 2010. Of course, this is only evident to me now. While it was happening, I insisted I was strong and none of this was upsetting me. I never once turned to God. I insisted "I had this". What I had was a desperate woman grasping tightly onto the people in her life for support. My focus had shifted from God to people. I was headed for a train wreck, and I got one. In the process, I lost things that are irreplaceable. I held onto people so tightly, they just smothered and disintegrated. For me, through the years, God was always the only one strong enough to weather my iron-fisted grip, but in thinking I could do it all myself, I looked down and the water gave way beneath my feet. 2011 has been my journey on my way back to my focal point. This message was made even clearer to me in my meditation today:
"Open to a larger, more abundant source. That source is God. And God's supply is the universe. When we look to God and the universe, we open ourselves to a never-ending supply of what we need – love, energy, teaching, support, information, and nurturing. Certain people and places may help us along our way, but God is our source of love. "
After reading that this morning I sat back and looked at my life since January. I have been blessed with new people that have entered my life and became part of it. I read in Kelly Cutrone's book, If You Have To Cry, Go Outside, that everyone has to build their "tribe" to travel life's path with. Our "tribe" is a group of people that give us the things mentioned above. No one person can give us all those things. In building our tribe, we must be very mindful of where we start. I have learned to start with God and give Him the freedom of choosing the people in my tribe according to the plans He has for me in this world. If left up to me, I could easily choose people who would deplete my energy, drain me, bring other negative people into my life, and cause me to look down, plopping rather ungraciously into the proverbial ocean. The people God has given me so far in my life are precious and I have not cared for those relationships carefully, including the one with Him. Putting my focus back where it belongs will change that. I will never take for granted that those God has given me will be there forever. Relationships are a gift from God and they must be cared for and attended to carefully or hearts will get damaged.
It's been a tough first three months of 2011, but once I stopped treading water and looked back up at God, suddenly the sea calmed, He took my hand, and I was walking back on top of the water, sun warm upon my back, drying my drenched clothing.
One might ask, how do I know I'm walking back on top of the water? The biggest thing is how I wake up each day. I wake up calm. The fear of loss doesn't crush my chest each morning when I open my eyes, like it did for 10 weeks. Second, during my journey, I comprised a list of what I call "whispers from God" after the title of the book "wHispers" by author and good friend, Shirley Pieters Vogel. (Just one of the people God has graced my life with) The fact, that this morning while thinking back over my journey, I could recall and write down the five "whispers" I now live by, on the inside cover of her book, without even having to hesitate, shows these "whispers" are now part of me. They govern the way I think, problem solve, move through my day, make decisions – in effect – this is my new personal code of living put together by me during my journey. Being able to do that enables me to finally say, "I feel better" – I'm back on top of the water.
And so, as another day goes by, I'm once again walking on water, and….I have written.
April 11th, 2011 Over the weekend I was doing some gardening. I was loosening the dirt in the flower beds, being very careful not to disturb the the tiny, green new shoots of the plants working so hard to push their way up through the soil. While working, the sun was warm on my back and thru the garden tool in my hand, I felt strangely connected to the earth. Spring, for me, especially while teaching, always symbolized a season of growth and newness, but this time, instead of marveling over the growth of my students, I felt an intense bursting of growth within myself. I identified with the green shoots coming out of the darkness of the ground, shedding the dirt and embracing the light.
Inside of me there seemed to be dark things that needed to be brushed away and discarded in the same way. My fingers are being pried loose of all that I held so tightly for security for so many months. The fear of loss is beginning to dim and release its hold on me.
Sometimes we’re so bottled up and bound by fear that we are closed off to new growth. Many times we are not even aware of this. We experience fatigue and a lack of energy, but we think it’s a physical problem, when in reality it’s our mind and heart expending our energy by trying to maintain the vise-like grip on our fear. Once the fingers loosen and the steel bands binding our chest and stomach break and fall away, we can breathe again. We can feel again. We can take in air and feel sunlight. We are emptied of that which was old and dark, and left over from winter, and can now begin to absorb the new feelings and ideas God and the universe has been offering us for months.
Loosen the soil. Allow the new shoots to absorb the water, air, and sunlight. Watch the new growth happen slowly, day to day. Marvel in the newness.
And so, as another day goes by, my feet make footprints in a new direction, and …I have written.
April 10th, 2011 ….first, for my husband, who is always there for me in my rough patches….always supporting me….never rescuing me…..respecting my opinions and views, but never speaking for me. Second, for my two very close friends, who this week, felt my pain and circled the wagons.
I am lucky to have such “pillows” and will rest easy on them tonight.
And so, as another goes by, life is good again – for today anyway, and I have written.
April 9th, 2011 In today’s Cape Cod Times, one letter to the editor was commenting on a column written by a pastor on April second questioning why God would let such disasters like Japan happen. The writer goes on to say:
“That’s not unusual. I can’t remember any tragedy that God ever stopped from happening. But, of course, there ARE words to explain that – just five simple words: Maybe there is no God!”
At first, this letter stopped me in my tracks. Stopped me short, because never in my entire life, ever, did I confront that possibility. I mean I’d heard in the news all the stories of the atheists and how they wanted the word God out of everything. I just remember thinking this is a group of crazies – no God? Seriously? And dismissed them. Those were news stories far away from where I live.
Today’s letter hit me with a harder punch because it was written by a local here in town. Real people. Real close. Hmmm….
Someone actually contemplates “no God”. After careful examination of myself and my MO of life, the jury’s in – there has to be a God and I am living proof of it. Whenever I take matters into my own hands, act impulsively, try to control the outcome, put myself before others, – another words, completely ignore God, I end up in a huge disaster. The hurricanes I get caught up in by losing my focus always draw me back to God – “lean NOT unto thine own understanding”. Giving the reins back to my Higher Power, where they belonged in the first place, doesn’t always solve the problem right away, but it quiets the storm. Relinquishing my control almost always brings a bit of peace, solid ground, and better ways n’ days.
Yes, we have disasters in this world, just like we do in our lives. Who’s to say they weren’t caused by mere men taking control, ignoring God, just like in my own life? (Granted man cannot control an earthquake, but he should certainly have been smart enough not to put a nuclear plant on a fault line) I daresay that if there were no God, and only mortal man to depend on, we’d have a whole lot more disasters than we already do – or the planet would’ve been doomed a long time ago if it were left to only man.
And so, as another day goes by, tonight “I pray the Lord my soul to keep” (cause I sure ain’t gonna trust it to mere man), and…I have written.
April 8th, 2011 Everyday when I come downstairs and settle in my rocking chair, the sun rises just to right of the window I look out of. Today I was up before the sunrise, so I dragged my rocker into the dining room to look out of a different window and view the sunrise head-on. I watched as it crept above the horizon over the ocean. When it finally appeared in all it’s morning glory, it blinded me and I could no longer sit by this window and had to drag my rocker back into the familyroom and settle once again in front of my old window, where I could comfortably enjoy the morning sun, just out of view.
Sometimes we choose to finally face something head-on and it’s too much for us. We must pull back and keep it just beside us, not quite hidden from view. As we go about our business we are able to take it in and contemplate small pieces of it one at a time. We eventually become more comfortable with it and are finally ready to take on the whole ball of wax and digest it. Here is where it becomes part of us; changes us. Something shifts inside and we are now enamored by the newness of our person settling within our heart and soul.
We are not cowards or weak because we can’t face something we know we must not resist head on. We are smart to pull back and move slowly. Smart to assimilate the changes within in small increments, giving them a chance to knit themselves into our being. A hard rain never benefits a garden. It rolls off before the plants can drink. It is the quiet, steady, gentle rain that feeds and affords growth. Live in such a way – quiet, gentle, and steady with the things we fear the most, and growth and change will take place effortlessly and almost painlessly.
And so, as another day goes by, I will go to the Red Sox game today and let the changes from a different window work in the background, and ….I have written.
April 7th, 2011 Yesterday in yoga I was so patient with myself in forward head to knee pose. I had been traveling for a week, so my practice wasn't as consistent as it usually is. When I came out of the backbend, I folded forward ever so slowly. I was so aware that my body had to be treated gently in this move after spending hours on my trip driving. I remember being so attentive to my hamstring muscles as my fingertips reached for the floor. When I began to walk my knees back and forth, I took care to pause on each side and fully stretch until my knee locked. Then when the teacher said, "Grab you heels" I reached down and took extra care with setting up the pose. As I touched my face to my shins, I remember complimenting myself for being so patient and not rushing into the pose, and another thought struck me as I locked my knees for the final stretch: I am so patient with myself here in yoga, and yet when it comes to God, who is all knowing, telling me to "be still", I have no patience with Him. I actually start telling Him what I want and when I want it by.
As I left the studio, I was still amazed with the audacity I had to tell an omnipotent God what to do. I always saw myself as "God's Assistant", but for some reason He refuses to see it that way. Reflecting on my journey of the past three months, I now realized I haven't crossed the finish line yet. I have a mantra that says "just be a vehicle for the spirit", I have practiced listening in silence, and, in my head I know that when we pray the answer isn't always yes.
God has always been my life coach. When the rough patches hit, He sits on the edge of the bed when the tears come in the middle of the night. He rides shotgun as I cry and drive. He walks beside me each afternoon to the convenience store and along the beach as the tears squeeze out from under my sunglasses. Over the years, in His dealings with me, He has always allowed me a little free will in confronting life's difficulties. It was like riding a bicycle- I'd get to swerve right or left, but eventually He'd see me back to the path, but I had a little say in the journey. But now, for the first time, He has rendered me powerless. He took the bike away, and now I am on a moving sidewalk, such as those in an airport. I can walk only straight ahead. And if I refuse to move, He pushes me along anyway. This time He is not merely suggesting that I surrender complete control, He is demanding it. Once again the hardest thing for me to do is nothing. I have not yet mastered this.
How coincidental that Bikram says the the hardest part of the whole 90 minute yoga class is the two minute savasana – lying in dead body pose, perfectly still, without thinking of anything but our breath, not wiping sweat or fidgeting with our clothing. Inside the studio, complete surrender to the posture. Outside the studio, for me, complete surrender to God. No fidgeting with my thoughts and words, no wiping away my tears.
Thank goodness God is more patient with me than I am with Him. The moving sidewalk is a tough road to walk, but I know it is the right place for me right now. I also know that when I reach the end of it, I will truly know the meaning of "Be still and know that I am God". I also know I will be a different person and view many things through a new lens. But in the meantime I will continue to give God a hard time and when I try to help Him in his office, he'll just point to the moving sidewalk.
And so, as another day goes by, sometimes true clarity and hard lessons take two days, and….for two days, I have written.
April 5th, 2011 As much as we would like to think we are in charge of the direction our life takes, the ultimate truth is that God has already beat us to the finish. He must just sit up there laughing as we run from here to there everyday, believing we can change things, that we are in control. We try to figure out what to do, manage people and situations. We connive. We exert a great deal of energy doing this. It makes us feel productive and strong – until we finally realize we're going in circles. Still frustrated. Anxious. Angry. It has been said that if you want to make God laugh, tell Him YOUR plans.
We can make all the choices we want, and still keep running into that brick wall until we realize nothing we do or decide is going to change the path God has set before us. The answer to all of our choices is no. Buck it until we're exhausted, but the answer will still be no. God will not give up on us even though we hang on, insisting on doing it our way, steeling ourselves, protecting ourselves, too proud to ask for help, and too scared to trust that God really does have it covered.
When we finally collapse into a depleted heap, it is here, within the depths of our weakness, that we become strong. It is here we stop the foolish fretting and fighting. Our strength is manifested by making ourselves vulnerable to the spirit.
Since we're simply not going have it our way anyway, wouldn't just be simpler to wake up each morning and as we climb out of bed just say, "Well, God, what's up for today?" and then just go with it?
And so, as another day goes by, trusting God is not for whimps, and ….I have written.
April 4th, 2011 As I sit at Logan airport, waiting for my friend from Buffalo to arrive, I discover Logan rocks too! The walkway between terminals C & B have a lovely wall of rocking chairs much like those I discovered in Charlotte. Her fight is delayed an hour, so it is the perfect place to settle in.
As I watch the rain drops trail down the huge windows in front of me, I am remembering the first time I passed by these rockers in this walkway. The memories of a time long ago made me feel sad and the raindrops now turn to teardrops. Things that have been on my heart and mind jump out and play with the water on the huge windows. I rock, letting the feelings flow, giving in to the hurt of remembering. The new saying is “feel your feelings and let them go”. I always seem to do a good job of feeling my feelings and try as I might to let them go on one of these planes in front of me, I know they’ll be back.
Knowing I need to get it together before my friend arrives, I suddenly remember a conversation my daughter and I had on the way here today. She had just gotten a new Mac with the Snow Leopard operating system on it. She asked me if the new Mac Mini I purchased last spring came with Snow Leopard. I said I didn’t know. She said a quick way to tell is to hold down the mouse with the cursor on any icon on your desktop and the screen will dim highlighting the little choice box that comes up. She said that only happens with Snow Leopard.
This not only solves how I’m going to find out if I have Snow Leopard, it’s going to refocus my thoughts. To put myself in a better frame of mind to meet my friend, I think I’ll just hold the cursor on God and let the big screen full of painful memories dim, just like it says in an old hymn from my college days:
“Turn your eyes upon God, look full in his wonderful face, And the things of this Earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.”
Sometimes coming up against our own powerlessness is terrifying and it is in those moments that we need to know where to put the cursor.
And so, as another day goes by, my computer screen now holds new meaning, and….I have written.
April 3rd, 2011 I have just finished reading Left Neglected by Lisa Genova. This was a fascinating story of a young woman, living with her husband and three kids in Boston. She is a high powered executive with a very busy life. One day, on her way home from work she was using a cell phone and got into a car accident. When she woke up two weeks later in the hospital she had left neglect. Left neglect is a real neurological syndrome that occurs due to damage of the right hemisphere of the brain from a stroke or accident. People with left neglect are not blind, but rather their brains ignore information on the left side of the world, including the left side of their bodies.
In this story, the woman’s husband entered the hospital room and started talking. She asked him to move to her right.
He said, “Just turn your head left.”
She said, “I can’t. I have no left.”.
He said, “Just turn your head and you’ll see me.”
She said, “Tell me everything you see in this room.”
He said, “The window, your bed, a chair, and the bathroom.”
She said, “What if I told you there was another half to this room you missed. Just turn your head to see it. Where would you turn?”
He said, “I don’t know.”
She said, “Exactly!”
It’s a great book with many story lines, including a mother/daughter relationship that comes together after 30 years of estrangement. Living with left neglect and changing your life to do so is an inspirational story that leaves you thinking.
After reading this book, I have come to realize that sometimes I make too much of the heartaches in my life and need to give gratitude everyday for being able to put my two feet on the floor and put on my bathrobe without having to look for my right arm and leg. My heartaches are insignificant to the mountains this woman had to climb each day.
And so, as another day goes by, living with less is truly living with more, and …I have written.
April 2nd, 2011 It’s never too late to mend…..was a comment left on my blog yesterday. For some reason it just played around my head all night. I somehow appreciated those 6 small words from a complete stranger. It goes to show how we are all connected to each other and to the earth. We all feel the same feelings, say the same words, laugh the same laugh, hurt the same hurt; human understanding transcends the particulars and details. We don’t need to know the whys and hows of each others plights to offer a few words of comfort and understanding.
I find comfort in the word mend. We mend fences, clothing, relationships and hearts. The loud cracking of a heart breaking can be terrifying. The soft tug of the thread on each stitch can be healing as a heart is being mended. We must be mindful of how short life is and mend our ways.
And so, as another day goes by, being a vehicle for the spirit allows more joy to cross my path, and…I have written.
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