Tag: perspective

Seeing the Whole Mountain

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , , 19 Comments

“If peace comes from seeing the whole, then misery stems from a loss of perspective.” – Mark Nepo

It’s probably not shocking to admit that the most beloved people in my lives, a.k.a my kids, can sometimes irritate me. The other day, my 6-year-old daughter walked by me as I was sitting at the table and used the back of my shirt as a napkin for her buttery popcorn hands. And the little one loves to get his hands on my dental floss – and pull and pull and pull until there’s a long trail behind him sufficient to find Hansel and Gretel.

But all it takes is one look at them earnestly trying to learn something, or one comment from someone else about how precious they are and my eyes leak as my heart overfills.

One of the best pieces of advice about love that I’ve heard about love is when feeling the grind of it, to back up and see the whole mountain. Maybe my love of mountains makes this resonate especially with me but it brings to mind some of the toughest spots I’ve faced in climbing.

One of my least favorites is called Cathedral Gap on Mt. Rainier. It’s right next to Cadaver Gap, which because it’s aptly named, is NOT the route we take. But Cathedral Gap, despite its lovely name is grueling. It’s right after you’ve left Camp Muir at 10,200 feet and the first time that rope teams and crampons are required. Often the route is quite pebbly in spots and the mud and muck get jammed between the points of the crampons designed to help grip in snow and ice. When that happens then with each step you have to bang your foot against your ice axe to clear the debris.

The combination of being roped up, coordinating the pace with those on the team all the while climbing, banging your foot with your axe and breathing undoes me. It isn’t that climbing the rest of the mountain is easy but that particular part of the route (approximately located where the yellow arrow is on the picture below) I find to be grating.

And yet, when I see Mt. Rainier as I do every sunny day in Seattle, it gives me such a thrill. Just a glimpse of The Mountain, as my dad called it, and I’m filled with a tingle of the timeless beauty, daunting majesty and feeling of home it gives me. I feel this overwhelming sense of hope that we can all know beauty and dignity and stand tall against the test of time.

And it’s the same with my kids. There is a particular expression they both have that show when they are feeling confident about something they’ve learned. One glimpse of their little faces and I’ve come home – to my love and my life.

Swimming In the Deep

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , , 15 Comments

“The inner life of any great thing will be incomprehensible to me until I develop and deepen an inner life of my own.” – Parker J. Palmer

This weekend my friend Eric told me a story about a course that he took in college. He went to one of the Claremont Colleges in the mid-1980’s and this sounds like something that might have only been possible in that place and time.

The course was called Mind, Culture and Sports and it was held at the professor’s house, usually with drinks served and the professor encouraged everyone to take it pass/fail. The course content varied greatly – one week it might be a study of how hard it was to hit a baseball and the next week it was about meditation.

One weekend their field trip for this class was to spend a night at a Buddhist monastery. With great interest I asked how that went and Eric replied that he was terrible at mediation. Apparently the monk kept coming by to (gently) correct his posture. But, Eric brightened considerably when he reported that he was great at “sweep the path,” the chore he was assigned at the monastery.

It made me reflect on what we get out of our experiences. I’d have probably missed the whole point of a meditation retreat when I was 19 years old as well. But in contrast, can I name what I get out of meditation now?

If I didn’t meditate, I’d spend the day operating from my to-do list and getting a great deal done but swimming on the surface of the lake where the conditions of the weather affect the choppiness of the water a great deal.

By meditating, it feels like I spend at least a few minutes submerged in the deep. It’s where the quiet allows me both to read about and hear the bigger forces at work – the thread of the Divine in my life, find the echo of Love and Beauty in what I’m doing and touch the feeling of Peace that pervades regardless of the surface conditions.

I was also in college and about 19 years old, the same age as Eric when he took his college course, when someone who was trying to recruit students for the Church of Scientology stopped me on University Avenue and asked me “What about your life do you not want anyone to know?” At age 19, I was still blissfully naïve, untroubled and pretty uncomplicated. Perplexed by the question, I replied, “Nothing?”

Now, 33 years later, I’d answer a lot more assuredly “Nothing. Because after all those years I spent thrashing about on the surface, I’m finally submerged in the deep.”

(featured photo by Pexels)

Moral of the Story

Posted in ParenthoodTagged , , , , 12 Comments

“Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.” – Allen Ginsberg

My 6-year-old daughter told me a story she heard from her Parkour coach, Lewis.

Lewis and his brother were at a water park. On one slide, there was a man and his daughter in front of them. The man, who was really big, put his daughter on his lap and pushed off when it was his turn.

When it was Lewis’ turn, he found that the man had gotten stuck and he had to push him all the way down the slide. At the bottom the man said, “That was fun!”

My daughter then turned to me and said, “Do you know what the moral of the story is?” I waited with baited breath until she revealed, “When you go to a water park, you’ve got to have fun!”

Ha, ha, ha. Not the moral I was expecting. But we all get to have different takeaways on this thing called life!

Other People’s Writing: Dec 30th

Posted in writingTagged , , , 15 Comments

Henri Nouwen was a Dutch Catholic priest and prolific author. In the forward to his book, The Inner Voice of Love he describes a period of mental and spiritual anguish catalyzed by the sudden interruption of a friendship. To heal from this agony, he took a six month retreat during which he wrote down spiritual imperatives that were his notes on working through his pain and healing.

He never intended for these notes to anything other than private. But eight years after he’d worked through his anguish, a friend convinced him they could be helpful to others. The last note of the book, it includes a quote that knocked me over with its power: “Your future depends on how you decide to remember your past.” Here’s the passage:

As you conclude this period of spiritual renewal, you are faced once again with a choice. You can choose to remember this time as a failed attempt to be completely reborn, or you can also choose to remember it as the precious time when God began new things in you that need to be brought to completion. Your future depends on how you decide to remember your past. Choose for the truth of what you know. Do not let your still anxious emotions distract you. As you keep choosing God, your emotions will gradually give up their rebellion and be converted to the truth in you.

You are facing a real spiritual battle. But do not be afraid. You are not alone. Those who have guided you during this period are not leaving you. Their prayers and support will be with you wherever you go. Keep them close to your heart so that they can guide you as you make your choices.

Remember, you are held safe. You are loved. You are protected. You are in communion with God and with those whom God has sent you. What is of God will last. It belongs to the eternal life. Choose it, and it will be yours.

The Inner Voice of Love by Henri Nouwen

(featured photo from Pexels)

Photo of the week: Oct 23rd

Posted in ParenthoodTagged , , , 6 Comments

Last weekend my friend Eric and I took the kids on a long bike ride. My toddler was in a bike seat behind me and my 6-year-old was on a third wheel bike attached to Eric’s.

It was a gorgeous fall morning with moderate temperatures, colorful fall leaves, not too many clouds and we biked five miles to a marina on the waterfront where we met my brother and sister-in-law. And we got to ride bikes down the dock!

Along the route we saw so many interesting things in addition to the water, boats and beautiful leaves:

  • A draw bridge go up right as we were passing underneath so the movement and the sound of the mechanism echoed and clanged right over our heads.
  • A police car that disgorged a cop right in front us carrying what my daughter thought initially was a radar gun but turned out to be a cup of coffee.
  • A woman with pink hair getting ready for a breast cancer benefit race.
  • A little kid not much older than my toddler wearing a shark helmet, riding his own bike with his dad and trying so hard to race us.

So when my daughter said to my brother, “Guess what we saw on the way here?” I was surprised by her answer, “A dead bunny.”

We all see things differently… 🙂

The Work of Friends

Posted in meditation, ParenthoodTagged , , , , ,

“My friends are the beings through whom God loves me.” – Saint Martin

My six-year-old daughter’s friend called her bossy the other day. Oh-boy, did this touch a whole chain reaction of feelings in me, not many of them that I’m proud of. Judgment of the little girl, defensiveness for all girls who dare to live out loud, and an instinct to criticize the name-caller in order to reduce the sting to list a few. But more than that, an internal outburst at the insidious nature of learning so that just when I’ve finally figured out how to belong to myself and not worry too much about what anyone else thinks, life takes it up a notch so that I have to master NOT reacting on the behalf of my children.

Assuming (and hoping) that I have many years to go with this experience of supporting these children as they grow through self-acceptance and however they come to terms with the good and bad of other’s acceptance, I brought this question of how I was going to deal with it to the meditation cushion.

Here’s what showed up. I wouldn’t do my kids homework for them because it steals their opportunity to learn and grow. But I will answer questions, fuel their desire for learning, sit with them and hold their hands if necessary.

In the same way, I can’t do their social work for them. It also would steal their opportunity to learn and grow. So my job is the same – to sit beside them, help them uncover their own wisdom and hold their hands if necessary.

My daughter and I talked about how she felt. She decided to ask her friend if she had been called bossy, how that felt and talk about treating others the way she wants to be treated. I heard a little bit of the conversation and kept my mouth shut. As first steps in the realm of friendship go, it went okay.

Then I went and talked to my friends about this indirect experience of life that comes with parenting. More than anything, the fact that I’ve had these friends through many ups and downs in life and friendship, helped widen my perspective. I’ve never been able to solve their problems either. But through them I’ve learned to walk alongside others, letting go of what I can’t control and breathing in to the faith that showing up is what we are called to do with others and it works!

Vacation

Posted in meditation, ParenthoodTagged , , , , , ,

“Another name for God is surprise,” – Brother David Steindl-Rast

Twenty years ago my friend Jill and I were looking for something to do for a vacation and considered going to a spa in Arizona but as lovely as the hiking, yoga and pilates schedule and menu sounded, we never could pull the trigger. We thought we’d get bored. Instead signed up for a trip to climb two Mexican volanoes, Mt. Ixtacchuatl (17,200 feet) and Pico de Orizaba (18,500 feet). While I already summitted Mt. Rainier (14,400 feet) once (as had Jill) on my second attempt, that was in my backyard since it was 60 miles southeast of Seattle where I live. This trip was the start of what I came to think of as vacations in my early adulthood. I’d sign up for a trip, usually with a friend or two to climb something as time and budget allowed. It was how I saw Russia, Nepal and Peru when I was single – usually dirty, tired and out of breath but so delighted for the change of perspective and chance to adventure.

Now I’m redefining what vacation means as a mom with two young kids. Our range is a lot closer to home and my budget is a lot tighter so we’ve tried a few things pretty close to home. The first trip we tried was six hours by car – that was too far as I can feel all you experienced parents inclining your heads in agreement. The second trip was eight hours by boat but a big boat that we could move around on. Better because the boat was an adventure in and of itself but we came home a little stunned from all the pounding through water. This weekend we went with a friend to a AirBnB cabin on Whidbey Island about an hour and half trip from our house. Better yet!

But regardless of how we have gotten to our destinations, I’m fascinated by how the kids take it in. They get to the new environment, and then regardless of what is outside, explore every nook and cranny of the temporary quarters.  In the first place we rented, they seemed to have a plethora of toilet cleaning brushes and my toddler discovered each one and wanted to carry each one around until I confiscated them. Nothing is familiar so it seems the kids spend a lot of energy mapping out their new world as I follow along making sure it’s safe.

Then come the new activities – beach combing, swimming in the pool, finding new playgrounds. Everything, even if it’s an activity that we’ve done at home, seems more adventurous. If it’s a beach like it was this weekend, it seems to come with cataloging it as a new entry of what a beach looks like – more sandy, less rocky, more sea life, less driftwood. My five-year-old daughter ran through every tide pool with her arms outstretched yesterday in a glorious expression of taking it in.

So eating and sleeping become huge issues. They seem to consume massive amounts of food to support all the novelty. Going out to eat is not only new because they are places we haven’t gone before but also because we haven’t done it much during COVID. There is a dichotomy of wanting to have the staples I’ve brought from home as one form of familiarity and willingness to try something new since everything else is new. Sleep, I’ve learned is much harder if we all try to do it in one room. WAY too exciting when it’s WAY too necessary.

I come to the end of each time away absolutely exhausted. This is where I have had to redefine what vacation means to me. It certainly isn’t less work. It’s definitely less predictable. But now I see that’s part of the joy – to find the Universal where we go. Somehow God makes it so that by switching everything up, we are renewed in our life together.

I’ve realized that I never liked vacation where I just sat around and thank goodness, because that doesn’t seems to be part of this new era. And I’ve found in another way, it’s like my mountain climbing vacations – I’m usually dirty, tired and out of breath but also delighted for the change of perspective and chance to adventure, this time seeing the world… through the eyes of my children.

Live in Your Hands

Posted in meditation, ParenthoodTagged , , , , ,

“Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I read a story the other day about an old sage whose last instruction was “Live in your hands.” I find that both cryptic and useful. Cryptic because of all the time I spend meditating to get out of my head but where I usually think I’m trying to land is living from the heart. And it’s useful because I can so easily observe what I do with my hands.

On Sunday, I was home with my kids and we had nowhere we needed to be and no one coming over. On a day like that, my hands cook, clean and soothe. I hold my hot tea in the morning with my hands, I spend a lot of time holding my baby with one hand and cooking or cleaning up with the other. There is also a constant effort to stem the tide of destruction and disaster. My hands put away toys, cap the playdough, sort the puzzle pieces into their appropriate slots, they cut paper, pour paints and wash brushes. And they touch my kids a lot – changing diapers, combing out hair, cleaning the dirt from tiny little nostrils and that small spot on the bridge of the nose next to the eyes. My hands rub backs, hold hands when we go on a walk around the neighborhood, soothe cries with little pats and drum rhythms on little backs. My hands flair out for a good move in a dance party, hold the paper steady for a drawing challenge and fold in for a magic trick my daughter makes up. Then the end of the day comes and my hands apply lotion, help with jammies, smooth out the sheets, turn the pages of bedtime books, fold into prayer pose and flip the light switches off. And finally, I got some time to myself so my hands type on the computer, tap texts out on the phone and brush my own teeth and hair.

I am often frustrated at the end of a day like Sunday that I didn’t get anything done. I love finishing things and on a day home with my kids, it feels like I finish nothing. But living in my hands was a fascinating way to observe where the time goes. The job of parenting at my kids ages of 1 ½ and 5 ½ is so physical, it’s a hands-on job. And spending the day observing that made me appreciate what an honor that is because it won’t always be the case.

Live in your hands. My new favorite observation point. What do you do with yours?