Tag: meditation

The Power of Being

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“Please remember, it is what you are that heals, not what you know.” – Carl Jung

This weekend I invited a friend who is dealing with a long-term illness to come hang out with us. Her husband called me afterwards to tell me that is exactly what she needs. When I asked what I could do to help, he responded that she just needed more of the same. Time spent just being with little ones.

I love spending time with my kids. But I often get wrapped up in the logistics – preparing food, changing diapers, keeping healthy. So it often surprises me when my friends visit and say, “That was good for my soul.”

There is a lot of mystery in what is good for our souls. But in this context I understand that to mean that being around humans that are so close to the source helps us shed a few layers. When enveloped in activities that have only to do with the fun of the moment, we get to leave behind the news, our plans for becoming something and maybe even our worries.

As I was talking with my friend’s husband, I realized I kept asking what I could do and his consistent response was just to be. It reminded me that isn’t just kids that can be good for our souls. Anyone committed to just showing up with each other and fully being is far more restorative than much of the busy-ness grown-ups often cook up. As Carl Jung says, “Please remember, it is what you are that heals, not what you know.”

Stubborn Acceptance

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“Wherever I go, I meet myself.” – Tozan

My friend Eric, called me stubborn this weekend. He didn’t say it directly to me but as an aside to my mom loud enough for me to hear because I didn’t want the pots in the dishwasher. It didn’t call for an answer but it’s an observation he’s made before so I thought about more deeply as my reactions rolled through me.

First, I got defensive and started wanting to point out all the ways and times that I am flexible.

Then, I got argumentative and created a list in my head of all the ways he is stubborn.

Next, associations started to weigh in and it reminded me of when my ex-husband used to call me in-de-pen-dent in four long syllables that made it clear it wasn’t a compliment.

And then I finally rolled to acceptance. It’s probably true. I’ve gotten a whole lot done in my life because I am pretty determined. This is the shadow side of that.

I wonder why it takes me so long to accept who I am. Probably because I’m stubborn. 😉

But I have hope because my determination to sit and meditate every day seems to help me cycle through all the defenses, arguments, and associations with less friction. It makes me think of the word humble and it’s origins in Latin from humus, meaning ground. Sitting on the ground meditating brings a repeated lesson of my small place in this Divine mystery, a humility that keeps me moving toward the reality of who I am and shedding of who I’m not. I find that most everything works better when I’m grounded.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Thanksgiving

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“The longer I live, the more beautiful life becomes.” – Frank Lloyd Wright

Last year my daughter and I painted a little wooden box with the word “grateful” on top. I set it on a shelf in our family room and we created a ritual of writing down what we are thankful for on a particular day. And sometimes my son comes along, pulls out the drawer and dumps all the little pink slips onto the floor. Which creates a whole other practice of counting the things we are grateful for. 🙂

But I love Thanksgiving for the practice of making me think about what all those daily gratitudes amount to in the big picture.

I am thankful for my divorce. It brought me to a complete halt. But sometimes there is no way to go a different direction unless you stop going the previous direction.

I am thankful for that insistent whisper that I had to talk to my dad about his life and faith. But for that, I would have never broached the subject that opened us up to so many dear and delightful conversations because I was afraid that my views, my meditation practice and my faith were too different.

I am thankful for the gut wrenching desire to have a family even as an unmarried woman in her late 40’s. There was nothing in my previous life that would have marked me as a go-it-on-your-own person before that overwhelming guidance made it impossible to ignore.

I am thankful to the deep need to share with others that has led me to write. The daily practice of blogging has created a depth, thoughtfulness and perspective in me that has enriched my life. It has also enabled me to meet and read so many delightful and wise people whose paths I wouldn’t have crossed otherwise.

I am thankful that all of these things have come together in a way with my faith in God so that I KNOW this is my life to lead. On the many days that I’m so incredibly tired, I am just tired, not resentful because this is my path.

I’m grateful that my list of people, events and things to be thankful for is long and getting longer. I’ve known times in my life when it was getting shorter. It has made me appreciate the many blessings and the beauty of this world with deeply.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Going Home

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“Just trust yourself, and then you will know how to live.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

My mom’s 97-year-old friend is moving back to Utah. She’s lived in Seattle for more than15 years, has a daughter, granddaughter and great-grandson here as well as many friends and admirers. But she told my mom that she’s moving back because she looked up how expensive it was to transport a body after death. Apparently it’s costly so she decided to move now so she’s near the cemetery where her husband is buried when she passes.

Let me just admit that I don’t know how much it costs to transport a body 1,000 miles. But I can’t imagine it is more costly than packing all your stuff up and transporting it ALL 1,000 miles. While this invokes silly images from the 1983 movie, Vacation with Chevy Chase and Beverly D’Angelo, it also makes me think of a word that I saw on social media last week:

Hiraeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for lost places of your past

For me this Welsh word brings up a sense of the home I’m creating with my two kids as one that changes every minute. With each memory we build a new home and feeling of who we are together and as it evolves, it makes going back only possible in our hearts.

And hiraeth also invokes for me the final calling home that comes with death. For my mom’s friend who believes deeply, it must be a sense of getting ready to go not only to Utah but to her Creator.

Someone shared with me recently that the last word that he and his mom said before she passed was “Later.”  That story filled me with such a sense of promise that I can only hope is the same promise that is with my mom’s friend as she moves.

(featured image from Pexels)

Touch of the Divine

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“Above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” – Roald Dahl

My kids and I went to my friend’s new condo for a dinner party last night. I got the kids settled with the paper that I brought for them and then realized I’d dropped the markers in the car. My friend’s place is a 4th floor walk up so I left the kids with her, went down to the car and realized when I got there that the kids had left the inner dome light in the back of the car switched on. I thought “Thank God I had to come down for the markers. Otherwise, I could have returned to the car on a dark night in a hurry to get the kids to bed and found a dead battery.” That touch of the Divine made the four flights of steps going back up lighter.

Then my 6-year-old daughter needed a brown and yellow marker because the set I brought didn’t have those. I asked our host who said that all of her art supplies were still in boxes but we could open the box nearest to us that said “Art supplies” on it and check. We cut open the box. Right there on top in a neatly bundled and organized cup was her beautiful set of markers. “Wow, thank you Universe!” she exclaimed. I got a shiver.

I cyclically float between being at times easily able to see what God is doing in my life and in the other times, thinking I’m in charge. It’s a flow that I go back and forth on during any given day, week or month. Often seeing the Divine hand hinges on what I’m talking about and with whom I’m talking.

Jesus said, “For where two or three gather in my name, I am there with them.” (Matthew 18:20) Which I broadly observe in my life as those around us can help us uncover the magic in our existence. I’ve been doing some work with the church that my dad used to lead. The staff there often says about fortuitous events, “It was a God thing.”

I was going to write something else for my blog post this morning but for that touch of the Divine last night. Not only is it beautiful to see the hand of God, even in little things like markers, but it is fun. On this dark morning when I’m fresh from sleep and quiet meditation, I’m inspired to pass the spark of mystery and magic along.

Crevasse Climbing

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“Be a fountain, not a drain.” – Rex Hurdler

My day job is to help corporate clients collaborate – create structure for creating and finding documents, workflows to smooth out processes, write some white papers. It isn’t the type of work that is typically full of emergencies. But recently I’ve had a couple of situations that were the corporate equivalent of people running around with their hair on fire.

The client has a possible security breach – AHHH. Someone deleted the collab site that everyone was saving their files to – AHHH!

These situations have reminded me how hard it is to stay centered while everyone around is in a panic. Trying instead to be open and even while listening and contributing to the solution is a difficult practice.

On one of my first mountaineering expeditions, the guides were teaching crevasse rescue techniques. When someone on your rope team falls in and the first thing you do is self-arrest. And then once you are stable and have assessed the situation, you can set up a pulley system to pull them out. You just make it worse if you fall or jump into the crevasse yourself. You have to pull from the top instead of push from below.

So I’m envisioning the meditation equivalent of staying out of the crevasses. Dropping on my belly, digging into the snow with the tip of my ice-axe and the crampon on my toes to self-arrest instead of jumping in to the panic.

What I’ve learned is that there is real wisdom in slowing down when life starts swirling around. It is too easy to create secondary problems when blundering around in reaction.

The last person on a rope team is called the anchor. They earn that title when they can stay grounded while everyone else is sliding towards the abyss.

Our Deepest Fears

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“Too many people overvalue what they are not and undervalue what they are.” – Malcom S. Forbes

I have a friend whose affable and outgoing father has developed a little bit of memory loss in his 80’s. To talk with him you wouldn’t notice it but it manifests in that he thinks he doesn’t have enough money. No matter how many times his daughter tells him he’s does and he’s fine, he feels like he’s broke.

It reminds me of my grandmother who became very self-conscious about the way she looked as she aged. She thought other people in her senior living home were gossiping about her when she ate in the shared dining room because she didn’t look right. No amount of reassurance would overcome her inclination to stay in her room.

These stories make me wonder if we all have some deep insecurity or worry that if we never fully heal could define our golden years.

I know what mine is. I feel self-conscious talking about faith. My beloved dad was a Presbyterian pastor with such a specific theology. But what resonates with me is less defined – examples of faith, depth, authenticity, grace, forgiveness, selflessness from all spiritual traditions inspire me. (To be fair, my dad called himself a big tent guy meaning however you got into the faith tent was fine by him).

When I go to speak about faith, I get hung up on the words to use because my upbringing gave me a specific dialect. My meditation practice has given me the feeling of deep faith but not the words to replace it. So somehow my respect for my dad has muted my lived experience and created an impediment to speak of my Budheo-Christian path.

It calls me to heal it so that I can speak of the Divine miracles and great gift that faith has been for me. I have been so fortunate to stand on the top of mountains, feel the Universe all around me and stand in awe of the wonder of creation. And I’ve experienced this feeling of being carried by God in so many pivotal moments when I have been confused, unsure, and broken. Nurturing the small voice of God inside me has repeatedly enabled me to navigate to the next right thing in my path.

I’m heartened by the story about my friend’s dad because even though he feels like he doesn’t have enough money, he has a deep faith that makes him feel secure. So I work on my confidence to speak of all that God has done in my life all the while having faith that it will all come out okay.

(featured image from Pexels)

Old Friends

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“Hold a true friend with both hands.” – Rumi

Yesterday I had lunch with my dearest and oldest friend, Katie. We met when I was my daughter’s age – six and a half years old and she was seven. We went to grade school, junior high, high school and college together. We’ve lived together, dated the same guy (not at the same time), argued and most of all laughed. We’ve aged together, sometimes growing apart and then returning to be close again.

Sitting there talking with her, I realize there is so much comfort in effortless vulnerability. We don’t need to be anyone in particular because our shared context means we’ve seen it all. And more than anything, we’ve earned the right to hear each other’s stories because we’ve shown up for all these years.

When my friend calls these days, which isn’t very often because we mostly text, I always try to pick up. And whatever and whenever she asks something of me, which is also rare, I say “yes” to. Because we’ve gone on so long that I know she’s considered the impact on me as well as any other person can.

I think movies, specifically RomCom’s gave me the mistaken impression that friends like Katie come into our lives all the time. Life has told me that we are lucky if we get one or two in all of our years. She embodies the lovely description of an honest friend I recently read again in The Book of Awakening.

“Having an honest friend – one before whom you can dump all your heart’s pockets and still feel that you are worth something – is a form of wealth that will buy you nothing but will give you everything. And mysteriously and rightly, to find such a friend, we must be such a friend.”

The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo

Driving away from lunch I felt so light, even with stomach full of pasta. I realized that time with her is like time without my armor on – the armor of accomplishment or knowledge or experience or humor — whatever it is I use to protect against vulnerability. That, along with understanding, might be one of the best gifts of an honest friend.

The Tool Kit

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“Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” – Charles R. Swindoll

The other day I was making a cup of green tea and the pod got stuck in the machine. Immediately my brain assessed that I had something shaped like a cylinder trying to come out of a space shaped like a cone.

It started me thinking about metaphorical toolkits and how we go to them. It seems, at least in my family, that when faced with a problem or a project, we each have a sweet spot tool that lines up with our vocation or avocation.

And for me, an engineer, my tendency to face anything is problem-solving.

My mom, who by education and mindset is a great linguist, edits her way out of problems.

My dad was a Presbyterian pastor. And his primary tool for everything good and bad was to find a scriptural reference.

For the litigator in my family, history has shown her go-to is taking legal action.

My brother, an entrepreneur, always looks to innovate himself out of a tight spot.

My sister-in-law, who has many talents and careers, organizes when pressed.

Have you heard the joke about the person holding a hammer? When you are holding a hammer, everything looks like a nail.

But as I watch my young kids who have not yet trained to be anything, I see their instinct is to hug, cry, sing or dance when faced with anything big.

After I solved my problem and was sipping my tea, I wondered if all of us who have “become something” are missing a key first step in the process – to allow our bodies to feel it all the way through. To take in a moment of pause to acknowledge where we are and use it to breathe underneath our programming. At the very least, we might at least acknowledge that there we are predisposed to handle things in just one way of many, and then tackle it wisely from there.

(photo from Pexels)

Emotions about Emotions

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“A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials.” – Chinese Proverb

The other day I was in my car driving my toddler out of a park. We’d met some friends, played a while but had to leave because it was his naptime. His older sister was able to stay because our friends were bringing her home.

He was crying “go back” and “no, no, La-la (his name for his sister).” I totally sympathized with why he’d be frustrated, disappointed and feel it was unfair. I was glad he felt free to express himself. But after a couple minutes of this, I felt miserable listening to him.

I continued to feel so uncomfortable listening to him continue to cry for the entire winding road up and out of the park, probably five minutes. I kept thinking, “ I am so done with this emotion. I can’t wait until you grow up and can deal with disappointment quietly.”

I want my kids/friends/family to express themselves. I also feel miserable sometimes having to witness these messy emotions. How can both things be true?

I asked my meditation teacher. We talked through a history we both share of childhoods where “suck it up, buttercup” was the rule of the house. And we talked through the feeling of wanting to shut down and run away when someone wants to emote. I’d like to problem solve, move past, read it in a letter, whatever it takes not to just have to sit and bear witness for as long as they’d like to go on.

My teacher pointed out that this IS the practice of meditation. Observing what arises, not attaching, not resisting, not judging. Not piling on with feelings about feelings.

Damn, it’s hard.

I remember when my sister spent a month staying with my mom just after my dad died. She texted me something about my mom along the lines of “I can’t tell if she’s crying because she misses him or she feels sorry for herself.” It seemed so unfair to me to read that about my strong mother who is so put together and also allowed to grieve. But I’ve come to believe my sister was feeling that same need to escape someone else’s emotion.

The other day, I never mastered my emotion driving out of the park but did manage to sit in silence as my son worked it out. Once we drove through the park gates, he quieted down and shifted to observing trucks, pumpkins and being his usual affable self. Thank goodness. But next time, I aspire to not adding my emotions about other people’s emotions to create more misery.