How does life get better?

In the spirit of trusting the great AI in the sky, I typed in "does life get better" into Google search bar, and the first response was a Reddit forum "AskOldPeopleAdvice." Yessssssss.

Here are some gems:

"It does get better but you have to look for the positive things. You have to work at being happy. No one tells us this. We are conditioned to believe that happiness is something that just occurs or happens to us but it doesn’t." - Maxwyfe

"It gets much, much, MUCH better. As you get older, you get more agency over your life. You free yourself from toxic parents or stepparents; you finish school; you get some kind of job and have some freedom because you have your own source of income. ... I am your grandpa's age and I am so, so, SO much happier than I was at your age. And every decade, it got better. I promise you. Try to look for the joy, to focus on the positive. And see if your college offers therapy--that's what made the biggest difference in my life." - ThaneOfCawdorrr

"I have sought therapy three different times when I was struggling, choose my friends very carefully, and try to find things every day to be grateful for. It's not always easy, but I want to enjoy my life as much as possible. It's not that things really get easier or harder, but rather that life is always changing. Probably the three best things you can do for yourself to stay positive are to:

• exercise everyday, 
• choose your friends carefully, and 
• don't compare your situation to that of others." -- emu4you

"It gets better when you work to make it better. I know that's probably what you don't want to hear. But most of us go through that mid-20s slump where it feels like we're hemmed in on all sides. What things will fix it? What do you have to do to get there? Don't worry how long the journey might take. Do you want to be 5 or 10 years older with nothing to show for it, or do you want to be 5 or 10 years older, having achieved your goal? The time will pass no matter what you do. Most of the big wins in life come from being willing to play the long game, and sometimes that means taking a few hits while you're heading toward that goal." - nakedonmygoat

"Does life get better? Yes but not how you think, it stays the same but you get so much better at dealing with life. Stuff that would have broken me in my 20's doesn't even rate me noticing it anymore. You learn to live in the moment, to enjoy the good moments because you know how precious they are. You know how strong you are and what you can survive, because you've survived it. It's a little like weight lifting, that barbell you could barely move when you started out at the gym, gets so much easier to lift the more you do it. Being in your 20's sucks, but hang in there because you're 30's are around the corner and it all gets so much better, your 40's are going to rock and every decade afterwards will just get better." wwaxwork

"I’m 55 and my life is SO much better than when I was 24.

My advice:

1. Make genuine human connection your top priority. Read the book “How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety”. Even if you don’t have social anxiety, you might find that some of it resonates.

2. Regularly exercise outdoors for mental health. The benefits are too numerous to mention but combining movement, daylight, and nature has more proven benefits than any pill or therapy. I do rucking, which is just walking with weight in a backpack.

3. Read the book Tiny Habits for practical, well-researched approaches to change. I use these with myself and my clients.

4. Reflect on what kind of person you want to be, and start acting as if you were that person in little ways. Remind yourself of who you want to be every day." -- OffbeatCoach

Self regulation vs. Emotional regulation

 https://connectedfamilies.org/equipping-kids-calm-self-regulation/

Self-regulation is the ability to monitor and manage your “arousal state” or energy level. 

More specifically, it means being aware of your energy level (and basic emotions) that result from either external experiences and/or your internal thoughts. The next step is choosing strategies to adjust your energy level for the most effective response. 

Energy self-awareness + healthy coping strategies = SELF-REGULATION

Emotional regulation is when you understand, evaluate and even problem-solve what you are feeling.

Emotional regulation involves the skills to answer these questions (after you are calm):

• What am I feeling?
• What thoughts or beliefs are driving those feelings?
• What is a wise course of action? (i.e., let it go or ideas to solve the problem)

Energy self-awareness + healthy coping strategies + emotional insight = EMOTIONAL REGULATION

self-awareness → calming strategy → emotional insight

“Motion changes emotion.” 

Sensory activities do two important things: 

• They use up the big muscle fight-or-flight chemistry so that it doesn’t feed an ongoing anxious state.
• They tap into the miracle of our sensory systems to signal an “all-clear.” Life is calm and pleasant, so the danger must be over.

There are 3 kinds of self-regulation:

• Cognitive: Observing and challenging unhelpful thought patterns.
• Emotional: Noticing and feeling emotions without letting them take over.
• Behavioral: Choosing intentional behaviors instead of reacting impulsively.

What causes the inability to self regulate?

The most common circumstances under which self-regulation fails are:

• when people are in bad moods, 
• when minor indulgences snowball into full blown binges, 
• when people are overwhelmed by immediate temptations or impulses, and 
• when control itself is impaired (e.g., after alcohol consumption or effort depletion).

What is dysfunctional self-regulation?

1. underregulation, which refers to the inability to contain emotional experiences sufficiently to engage in goal-directed behavior, and 
2. overregulation, which occurs when emotion regulation strategies are used to consistently stop emotion experience from unfolding 

Resources:

• Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child, researcher John Gottman, Ph.D. 
• Emotional Intelligence, psychologist Daniel Goleman 
• My Grandmother's Hands, psychologist Resma Menakem
• Somatic practice

Kamala Harris - Favorite Books

"[I]n October, Kelly Jensen asked all of the 2020 Democratic presidential candidates about their favorite books. Harris, she notes, was the first to respond with her list—a good sign. 

Here are her stated favorites:

Richard Wright, Native Son

Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club

Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon

C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

And in a 2016 Facebook post wishing readers a happy National Book Lovers Day, Harris added Barack Obama’s Dreams From My Father."

LitHub

Permission to Feel - Marc Brackett, Ph.D. (Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence)

Website

Podcast / YouTube

Brene Brown - Unlocking Us Podcast

Strategies when you are feeling overwhelmed / out of control (emotion regulation):

1. Mindful breathing
2. Forward-looking strategies
3. Attention-shifting strategies
4. Cognitive-reframing strategies
5. Meta-moment

Mindful breathing: "helps us calm the body and mind so we can be fully present and less reactive or overwhelmed by what's happening around us"

Forward-looking strategies: "anticipate something [that] will cause an unwanted emotion and either steer clear of it or modify our physical environment"

Attention-shifting strategies: "we can temper the impact of emotions by diverting our attention away from its source... turning on the TV, walking away from a stressful encounter, or repeating a positive phrase to ourselves."

Cognitive-reframing strategies: "analyze whatever's triggering an emotional experience and then find a new way of seeing it--essentially, transforming our perception of reality as a way of mastering it."

Meta-moment: "a tool that helps us act as our best selves would, as opposed to reacting (and overreacting) to emotional situations."

Judith's question: "What if I were 5% better than I am?"

Me: The poster about "dealing with a problem" on our door

Me: Brene Brown podcast on space between stimulus and response (quote attributed to Viktor Frankl)

"In the chemo room, I wear mittens made of ice so I don’t lose my fingernails. But I took a risk today to write this down." (poem) - Andrea Gibson

Whenever I spend the day crying,
my friends tell me I look high. Good grief,

they finally understand me.
Even when the arena is empty, I thank god

for the shots I miss. If you ever catch me
only thanking god for the shots I make,

remind me - I’m not thanking god. Remind me
all my prayers were answered

the moment I started praying
for what I already have.

Jenny says when people ask if she’s out of the woods,
she tells them she’ll never be out of the woods,

says there is something lovely about the woods.
I know how to build a survival shelter

from fallen tree branches, packed mud,
and pulled moss. I could survive forever

on death alone. Wasn’t it death that taught me
to stop measuring my lifespan by length,

but by width? Do you know how many beautiful things
can be seen in a single second? How you can blow up

a second like a balloon and fit infinity inside of it?
I’m infinite, I know, but I still have a measly wrinkle

collection compared to my end goal. I would love
to be a before picture, I think, as I look in the mirror

and mistake my head for the moon. My dark
thoughts are almost always 238,856 miles away

from me believing them. I love this life,
I whisper into my doctor’s stethoscope

so she can hear my heart. My heart, an heirloom
I didn’t inherit until I thought I could die.

Why did I go so long believing I owed the world
my disappointment? Why did I want to take

the world by storm when I could have taken it
by sunshine, by rosewater, by the cactus flowers

on the side of the road where I broke down?
I’m not about to waste more time

spinning stories about how much time
I’m owed, but there is a man

who is usually here, who isn’t today.
I don’t know if he’s still alive. I just know

his wife was made of so much hope
she looked like a firework above his chair.

Will the afterlife be harder if I remember
the people I love, or forget them?

Either way, please let me remember.

Andrea Gibson

Learning from Trees (poem) - Grace Butcher

If we could,
like the trees,
practice dying,
do it every year
just as something we do—
like going on vacation
or celebrating birthdays,
it would become
as easy a part of us
as our hair or clothing.

Someone would show us how
to lie down and fade away
as if in deepest meditation,
and we would learn
about the fine dark emptiness,
both knowing it and not knowing it,
and coming back would be irrelevant.

Whatever it is the trees know
when they stand undone,
surprisingly intricate,
we need to know also
so we can allow
that last thing
to happen to us
as if it were only
any ordinary thing,

leaves and lives
falling away,
the spirit, complex,
waiting in the fine darkness
to learn which way
it will go.

Reincarnation

 Today's sermon is about reincarnation, and it's got me thinking about the limits of redefining oneself, starting a new chapter, and how much you pull your old habits of thinking with you. Nature / nurture / karma. 

The older I get, the more I think about change.

Grumpiness

Trying to have patience with my grumpy set point. I have so much to be grateful for, so I bristle at myself when I start the day - pretty much every day - feeling the bah humbug of it all.

My family knows to tread softly around me before the first coffee. My exuberant morning husband knows to warn of coming in hot. 

This summer has been the first time in years that I've been able to wake, get ready, and head to work without taking a kid somewhere first. There are many days there are no words until after 8 am! So great!

I thought maybe I'd age out. Get to be one of those retirees that tweets with the birds in the morning, singing as the coffee drips.  

Flying dream

 I've been lucky to have flying dreams on regular rotation. 

Most are joyful - flying solves a problem or feels miraculous and so right.

Last night, flying was a short-cut to my car after cutting class in high school (something I never did, but Umea does all the time, I've discovered). But the wind currents were strong and pushed me out over the ocean, which was right there between New Mexico and Colorado. But I rowed (in the air, more like rowing than flapping wings) successfully over land and down over a Colorado river town, the river bed, actually, where a river rafting group (young, vigorous, blond!) was packing it up. And got a ride. And stressed out about calling my mom to pick me up. Trying to find a map to figure out how far home was from where I'd landed. Too far to bus?

And so, flying was fate - a simple choice leading to a whole lotta adventure.  And although it was stressful, it was also great. What I thought my day was, it wasn't. What I thought the radius of my life was, it wasn't. Life can be travel. And figuring out how to get from here to there, or there to here. And I did. And Colorado was beautiful in my dream. And the ocean was gorgeous. And terrifying. But gorgeous. 

And I love that I dreamed all that. Go brain!

(I suspect the shape of the dream was heavily shaped by reading Demon Copperhead for the past week. Good lord, what a book.)

Prayer - the Rev. Gretchen Haley

Hard to let love in, to do its work on you, healing backward and forward

It’s ok to go slow in your letting go
In letting your arms fall to your sides
In finding your sigh, and then your shout of joy and praise, wonder and awe

The world teaches us to defend and protect
Hide and get by, rush and push through -
It is ok to take your time In trusting there is no hidden agenda
Except the learning to love And to be loved

It is not easy, we know - to let love in
To let love do its work upon your heart
Healing backwards and forwards
Softening cynicism, releasing judgment
Finding forgiveness, and believing not all is lost -
Finding that you have always been worthy of love just as you are
That we all are worthy of love
Just as we are:
Queer and complicated; messy and miraculous
Creatively gendered;
caring, and kind of confused

It’s ok to go slow - just don’t stop
Keep moving towards this light that wants only to love every part of you
This light that is longing to call your scars sacred, and your hope holy

Ready to brave this world in all of its brokenness
Armed only with truth,
and the power of a community held in promise

The vision of a world unafraid to change, to keep changing
To hold, and to be held across every wave and rush of wind.

What to be grateful for

Tennis and that feeling of play. Joy in what my body can do.

Yoga and that feeling of grounding and reaching that glories in the biggest space my spirit can embody.

Parenting and the joy that these whole-ass PEOPLE can bring as they grow into themselves and the world.

Working and the feeling of putting my skills to service of a team and my community. 

Church and the joy of a community of people who believe that searching for meaning, and living into the meaning you find, is a worthwhile endeavor.

Living, which sometimes feels like aging, but at its best, feels like deepening and unfurling the fractal flag of self into the endless sky.

Friends and the continuity of knowing and being known, laughing and living out loud, and playing. Celebrating the endless stream of life events and holidays. 

Family and good conversations every so often. 

(Secret gratitude: meditating, smoking, and drinking coffee, which, dear god, is about the best thing in the whole world.)

Sonnets to Orpheus, Part 2, XIV (poem) by Rilke, Translated by Anita Barrow and Joanna Macy

See the flowers, so faithful to Earth.

We know their fate because we share it.
Were they to grieve for their wilting,
that grief would be ours to feel.

There's a lightness in things. Only we move forever burdened,
pressing ourselves into everything, obsessed by weight.
How strange and devouring our ways must seem
to those for whom life is enough.

If you could enter their dreaming and dream with them deeply,
you would come back different to a different day,
moving so easily from that common depth.

Or maybe just stay there: they would bloom and welcome you,
all those brothers and sisters tossing in the meadows,
and you would be one of them.

Ritual of Mindfulness

 The sermon today was about how to take the everyday and turn it into a moment of meaning, when the moment IS the meaning.

V.B. Price, in Running to Wijiji, says the sacred and the profane are sacred. And maybe also: "when you know who you are, you do who you are. 

"knowing and doing [are] not apart;
and where I [am]
[is] as much of myself
as what I [do].

Now is
a holy place."

In this moment, I am feeling like the echo between who I am and what I do is split-second delay. Not too shabby, all told. I am not in sync, but nor am I syncopated. 

There is hope. There is meaning. There is time and patience and the next moment and every intention.  

Gregory Alan Isakov Concert - Santa Fe - June 16, 2023

The whole fam went to see Gregory Alan Isakov at the Bridge in Santa Fe. We saw Martin and Julie Heinrich and our neighbors!

1. San Luis
2. Berth
3. Before the Sun
4. The Fall
5. Southern Star
6. Dark, Dark, Dark
7. Amsterdam
8. Master & a Hound
9. This Empty Northern Hemisphere
10. Chemicals
11. Liars (Ron Scott cover)
12. She Always Takes It Black
13. Virginia May
14. Second Chances
15. Big Black Car
16. The Stable Song
17. Appaloosa Bones
18. Caves

Encore:

Dandelion Wine
All Shades of Blue

My notes (because I don't always know the names of the songs!):

1. San Luis
2. Quit all the looking back
3. 55 miles... shines like the 4th of july... city bus kickin up dust, before the sun comes up, devil sees us now, sleeping in our winter clothes. Going on my own. BEFORE THE SUN.
4. The fall, the fall, the fall (new). Blood was thick, brothers, sisters... all our eyes on you. On you. We all break a little. THE FALL
5. Oh my drunken southern star... now you are dangerously close. Come out from your hiding out. SOUTHERN STAR
6. ... Blanket inside... all turn red. Howl at the half moon... she's all smoke, she's all nicotine...won't you sing me something for the dark... DARK DARK DARK
7. AMSTERDAM
8. ...He's shaking it up once for me... snow blowing round your head... MASTER AND HOUND
9. ... Whiskey mouths...cottonwoods were all worn out. While you were sleeping i was flipping the dials. ... northern hemisphere...THIS NORTHERN HEMISPHERE
10. Coffee burns, stomach turns... saw her bathing in the creek. Now you're jealous of the water... is it just chemical? ... gravity is gone. CHEMICALS
11. You take the big one, and I'l take his brother. Let's get this ovee with... now we're just liars...LIARS
12. Turn on that golden rain. ... talking to the queen. ... yearning for the past. But i'll never say I love you dear, just to take it back. SHE ALWAYS TAKES IT BLACK
13. Wrote on one of first tours... U Dub. 50 a night. Kelly jo phelps. VIRGINIA MAY
14. All of of my heroes sit up straight... SECOND CHANCES.
15. You were the magazine, i was the plain Jane. BIG BLACK CAR.
16. Played with Lumineers last summer. Big hockey arenas. Terrifying. "Play all your hits, man." "We don't have any." Play this at the grocery store near my house sometimes. STABLE SONG.
17. New song. This is a voice I've known. Avenues and bones... like you say all the tome. Lost its mind... nesting birds... tvs on. From every window, evening's fall is hitting ground. ... glad you found me when you did. APPALOOSA BONED
18. ... there's something I forgot..  used to love caves... remember that bright Halloween night.... put out the smoke. Let's put all these words away....CAVES
19. Encore... scrub oak to timber... heart's worn handle of an old pushing broom... I've been thinking you probably should stay. SHADES OF BLUE. 

Gregory Alan Isakov concert - March 9, 2024

Umea and I went to this concert at the Kiva Auditorium, and it was magical. I ugly cried at just how beautiful the music was.

1. Setlist:
2. Before the Sun
3. Southern Star
4. Dark, Dark, Dark
5. San Luis
6. The Fall
7. This Empty Northern Hemisphere
8. Miles to Go
9. Big Black Car
10. Berth
11. Play Video
12. \3 A.M
If I Go, I'm Goin
Amsterdam
Chemicals
Liars
13. (Ron Scott cover)
    Play Video
Watchman
The Stable Song
Second Chances
Silver Bell

Channeling Finnish Happiness

 Newsweek Article - March 19, 2024

[Paraphrased]

1. Get out in nature.

2. Keep a determination mindset. We can do hard things. Resilience makes us stronger. 

sisu="determination, courage, and willpower. It can also be used to define the ability to push through adversity and reach your limits."

3. Trust people at work to do their job "in a way that suits them best." Stay open to flexible work practices.

"Managers are encouraged to think how they can serve their team members to deliver their best. As a result, I and others are less preoccupied with what other people are doing.

Instead, it's a culture where I can focus on how I can do my job to the best of my ability."

4. Respect work/life balance.

Working late is fine, but recognize it comes with a trade-off. Take those vacations and re-knit family bonds!

5. Competition shouldn't be your main motivation.

"One can be ambitious and humble at the same time and feel content in life."

 

Middle Management in America

What a tough day. I manage a Division of about 30 people in 4 teams. One of our younger team members -- a really good and smart person -- let me know he's taken another job. Another of our newer team members let me know he'd like to change teams because he feels the relationship with his manager has suffered irreparable harm. Another senior team member called to share his frustration with another dynamic that's been troubling in the past year and has flared up again. A person from a different department met with me to say that the way we've set up a certain requirement that obligates his team to work with outside groups has led to them being abused and seen as the "hand of injustice" (take that, Adam Smith!). 

I took lunch to one of our team leaders, who was losing her young team member, to check in and make sure she wasn't taking it too hard. She was. We talked about it and around it and scratched our heads, shook our fists, said lots of things that boiled down to "these pesky kids! what do they want these days? all these unreasonable expectations for expertise within months, promotions in a couple years, and absolutely no boredom or discomfort or challenge, all while knowing exactly what they're supposed to be doing and getting thanked and petted all the f#^$&%*ng time."

And then I had coffee with my college mentor, who gave me the tough love and broke the hard news that none of this is new, none of it is solvable, and yeah, middle management is the worst. 

And as I was driving home, another colleague let me know she just gave her 2 week notice, leaving me with one more broken link to a department that I desperately need in order to succeed at my job. 

What a day. 

I tried medicating with songs of loss and angst but had no patience with wallowing. Instead, I pulled up my meditation app and leaped at the title "Letting go of unwanted feelings." Listened to it twice. Tried to release my fear and heaviness to the powers of renewal and healing that we call by many names. After all, much of this is not mine to fix. My little control freak self would love to take it all on, even as it seems insurmountable and intractable. 

What I want for the world is for people to get better at 2 things:

1. Setting boundaries, keeping them, telling others when they cross one, and requesting that someone do better to respect them going forward.
2. Hear feedback, take it in, apologize, repair, and do better going forward. 

As a young person, the world seemed very black and white, and it seemed possible and even necessary in order to be a good person to never hurt anyone, that you could do better and better until you never made any mistakes, or at least none that affected other people. 

Now, I think growth is almost entirely related to learning curves associated with failures big and small. I've heard this called your "growing edge." That resonates with me. 

Brene Brown says, "Clear is kind." And others say nice is often not kind. I say, "Feedback is kind." And taking in feedback is both kind and wise and all-too-rare these days. After all, we are very aware that people are not perfect, but we seemed outraged when anyone bothers us in any way. Why didn't they know better not to do that? And why do we have to tell them? Shouldn't they already know? How could they not know?

My son, 11, and on the autism spectrum, has learned that it is an unreasonable expectation to think that other people know what's in his mind if he doesn't say it out loud. 

My daughter, 14, and one of the most emotional intelligent people I've encountered, is learning that she cannot expect anyone to stand up for her, that she must stand up for herself like she does for her friends without blinking an eye. 

I am hopeful that I am raising people who will be able to manage conflict at work, and at home. 

In the meantime, I am looking around at the ashes from multiple fires today and wondering - what is my role in all of this? How does this get better? What can I do, and if there's nothing, what will I do?

The leverage from the middle feels laughable. 

Jet (poem) by Tony Hoagland

and it is good, a way of letting life
out of the box, uncapping the bottle
to let the effervescence gush
through the narrow, usually constricted neck.

Everything is Going to be All Right (Poem) by Derek Mahon

Derek Mahon, from Selected Poems

How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The poems flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart.
The sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right.

Day Off

 Presidents' Day weekend. House is clean. Tennis lesson done. Travel planned for this summer's half-marathon in the Grand Tetons. A run, then yoga today. 

So tomorrow can be an honest to goodness day off. Yoga in the morning, pickle ball, drop-in tennis in the evening. And maybe some puzzle. Maybe some shopping. Maybe a church task or two. 

The feeling of well-being is overwhelming. So few shoulds that it's a miracle. I am so grateful. So full of gratitude!

"In the Moment" (poem) by Lynn Ungar

You've probably heard
the central rule of improv:
Say yes... and.
Yes, we are on a desert island...
and I am a shark.
Yes, we are playing in the World Series...
and I will use this hot dog as a bat.
It's an excellent way to talk with those
who have wandered into dementia:
Yes, OK, I'm your mother.
Can I sing you a lullaby?

Improv is the core of jazz.
Bach may have set music's
rules of the road, but he
was one crazy improvisational driver.
Look, I get this isn't
the plot you chose, and everything
has gone off script.
Isn't that just the way of it?
Play the scene you're in.
Shift the plot. Tell me
where we can go together.

What you can control...

 I'm feeling buoyed by the positive changes that I've been able to imagine, set intentions to accomplish, set steps to put in place, and keep choosing and following through again and again.

And if that can happen in some areas of my life, suddenly I assume that's true of all aspects. 

So it is somewhat startling and deeply frustrating the ways that I cannot gain traction in changes that are important and potentially life-improving. 

I am happily going to yoga almost every day, yet I cannot seem to manage to go running once a week. 

I have given up cream and sugar in my morning coffee, but I cannot not eat 3-5 desserts per night. 

I use my meditation app every morning, but I still find myself a stress case in most other circumstances throughout the day. 

I sing to my kiddo every night before bed, but I keep choosing Youtube videos before bed instead of my library books on kindle (tick tock...). 

Probably dwelling more on the wins and less on the disappointments would bring more happiness and more successful change. 

As a human, I'm primed to focus on the negative and the "problems" to be solved. As a spiritual being,  I practice gratitude and celebration. Begin again, begin again... 

"The Next Noel" (poem) by Lynn Ungar

I don’t know what a noel is,
Except that it’s something
That angels say, and the first time
They said it, was to shepherds
Who were out laying in fields.
But the next noel, couldn’t it
Have been to anyone –
The barkeep handing drinks
Or the woman easing off her shoes
As she comes in the door?
Behold! The angel says, as in
Pay attention! Look what is happening!
And then, I bring you tidings
Of great joy. I don’t know
Who got the second noel.
Maybe the wise men. Maybe not.
But if there was a first noel,
They might have just kept coming –
Angels popping up where you least
Expect them, demanding that you take notice,
Insisting, through every battered age,
That you listen to tidings of great joy.

Quote - Larry Levis - "My Story in a Late Style of Fire"

"It is so American, fire. So like us.

Its desolation. And its eventual, brief triumph."

Quote - Gaston Bachelard - The Psychoanalysis of Fire

"Fire is the ultra-living element. It is intimate and it is universal. It lives in our heart. It lives in the sky. It rises from the depths of the substance and offers itself with the warmth of love. Or it can go back down into the substance and hide there, latent and pent-up, like hate and vengeance. Among all phenomena, it is really the only one to which there can be so definitely attributed the opposing values of good and evil. It shines in Paradise. It burns in Hell. It is gentleness and torture. It is cookery and it is apocalypse."

"An Avowal" (poem) by Denise Levertov

As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.

This poem is from Oblique Prayers, copyright ©1984 by Denise Levertov, and also appears in Levertov’s The Stream and the Sapphire: Selected Poems on Religious Themes. 

Circle of Life

I did a good job in the past couple years reaching back, reaching out, to key people in my past. I didn't realize how much that also meant re-opening closed chapters in my life, and finding there, not cringing regret and harsh recriminations for all the ways I failed to be my best self, but memories of the ways I tried to stretch in different directions. 

Being a parent, I've learned, provides many magical moments to confront past selves. Music is a doorway to the past; Umea has discovered Simon & Garfunkle, Kenny Rogers. She does not seem to mind my reminiscences of the past selves who loved the songs she's falling in love with. (And I realize I may be especially blessed with a kid who is not (yet?) focused on pushing away to differentiate herself.)

And clothes, too. When she steals a sweatshirt that's 20+ years old, I am remembering who bought it for me, or who I dated when I wore it first. How can she want to wear the same item? A rhyming across time. 

We went shoe shopping, and as she tried on Birkenstocks, I texted my best friend in high school, since in my memory, we walked everywhere in Birkenstocks. She said yes, her son, too, asked for his first pair of Birkenstocks the summer before, and yes, how strange and right and resonant. 

This also, of course, is true of books. Certainly when she was little, I crammed her little brain with my favorite childhood books -- Anne of Green Gables, first and foremost. And now she shares a few of my favorites in adulthood -- Miracle Life of Edgar Mint, most miraculously. 

I think you could have these same moments of resonance if you were really good about sharing your inner life with a close friend. (I'm thinking of a podcast [This American Life, Plan B, Act Two], where a young woman described trying to "download" her past into a new friend's brain - making her mixed-tapes of important songs, narrating past relationship stories onto tapes, providing a list of favorite books...)

But having kids, who are exploring themselves, partly through exploring what they have in common -- or not -- with their parents, is an especially organic unfolding of moments and moments and moments where the past opens up and offers a chance to see and feel how much I have in common with past selves -- or not.

And pairing that with friends who loved me when I was those past selves takes things deeper. It's partly triangulation -- do their memories, or their continued love, confirm my experience? My existence? Do I, can I, still love who they loved? Who they love? Are those the same? (Oh god, what is time? What is life? What is perspective across time?)

And I remember, I try to remember, there is nothing to be done. There is everything to feel, and accept, and learn. And celebrate. And feel gratitude. So much gratitude for this miracle of life unfolding -- out and in.

When all seems dark, what can you do to let the light in?

Breathe.

Feel grateful for blessings.

Move. Stretch. Feel grounded and stretch to the sky.

Meditate on the miracle of a spark of my perspective and life in the vastness of the universe.

Reach out to wisdom from others.

Slow down. Notice that you can only live moment by moment. (Nothing to be done, nothing else, nothing other. One moment only.)

Go deeper.

Shine. 

 

What's your burden?

The question today at church. And an offer: Can you lay it down for a minute? 10 minutes? An hour? For days or weeks or months at a time?

Today, I'm thinking about cholesterol and eating - all the ways I feel out of control when confronted by cookies, chocolate, hawaiian rolls...

What does it really mean to be addicted to sugar, to gluten?

A Kenny Loggins self-help book from the late 1990s said (oh lord, wisdom from Kenny Loggins? Sure. Why not? Take it where you can get it!): "Where there is no hole, there's nothing to fill."

What hole am I filling with sweets? With butter?

I'm picturing a gingerbread house, pre-construction, and me sealing up the seams with frosting. 

I suspect more play will help. More yoga. More tennis. Maybe learning pickle ball? Snowshoeing? And puzzles. (So grateful for a puzzle exchange at church! I brought back about 10, leaving with 5...)

And if that doesn't help, I'll have to go deeper. Pretty sure I'm doing everything I can, eating all I can, not to do that. 

Blue Christmas

 Now it's December, and I'm still struggling with dark spirits.

Atheist Christmas Carol

Me to the season: Don't forget, I love, I love you.

I am sadness and joy and stress and resilience. All are part of the tapestry of my experience. So be it. So may it be. 

Prayer to myself: May I be brave. May I welcome the connection and light that waits for me if I open the door to them. 

Thanksgiving Eve

Today, everything feels like too much. Too many things to do. Too hard. Too much energy needed to overcome the inertia of despondent now. 

Tomorrow, there will be music and singing and cooking and cleaning and laughing and friends and games. All will be well. All manner of things will be well.

Today, there are meetings to get through. Plates to spin. Tasks to knock out. Discussions to contribute to (show up! be present! bring value!). 

I've had an Insight mediation app on my phone for a few months now. Most mornings I listen to affirmations as I make my way toward my desk. Most mornings, I feel grounded afterward. Rooted in my body, confident and at ease in myself. 

Today, the woman's voice was talking to someone else, and I was just eavesdropping. Nothing she said was for me. 

• "I am enough?" Not even close. 
• "I trust the process of life?" Not today, I don't. 
• "I am grateful for every experience that shaped who I am?" For all the good it's done. 
• "I am grateful for all my blessings?" What are they, again?

Work has been full and stressful lately. Lots of brain power, emotional intelligence, organizational skills, task switching, energy expended. I'm depleted. 

I skipped out on a church meeting to watch Dark Skies with the fam. I've done puzzles. So. Many. Puzzles. I've escaped into Stacey Abrams mysteries. I've done yoga. Tennis. Walks with the dogs.

I'm doing all the right things. Trying for good habits. 

Today, it all feels for naught. Darkness is heavy in my chest. My shoulders curl over my quaking heart.

These feelings too will pass. Tomorrow will be a better day. 

"Look up" has been on repeat in my head - as I went to sleep - as I woke up several times in the night - this morning. Yes, Joy. Thank you. I can be grateful even for this. 

Fall shining

It's been a whirlwind fall. I've been co-teaching a class at UNM, which is so fun but soaks up all my "free time." Teaching requires a presence and an awareness of the moment that leads to richer experience. This practice carries over into the rest of my life, primed to find deeper meaning. 

Rich but exhausting. 

It's been a sweet few months with the kiddos. There's been tennis and running. Puzzles. Coffee. More delights from Ross Gay. 

Lunches with friends, tea with a new friend, coffee with an old friend. 

Life is sweet sweet sweet, and I am trying not to hang on or expect anything to continue. Just notice. Feel grateful. Shine shine shine on all I see.

What I Can Do (poem) by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

So I can’t save the world – can’t save even myself,
can’t wrap my arms around every frightened child,
can’t foster peace among nations, can’t bring love to all who feel unlovable.

So I practice opening my heart
right here in this room and being gentle with my insufficiency.
I practice walking down the street heart first.
And if it is insufficient to share love, I will practice loving anyway.
I want to converse about truth, about trust. I want to invite compassion
into every interaction.

One willing heart can’t stop a war.
One willing heart can’t feed all the hungry.
And sometimes, daunted by a task too big, I tell myself what’s the use of trying?
But today, the invitation is clear: to be ridiculously courageous in love.
To open the heart like a lilac in May, knowing freeze is possible
and opening anyway.

To take love seriously. To give love wildly.
To race up to the world as if I were a puppy, adoring and unjaded,
stumbling on my own exuberance.
To feel the shock of indifference, of anger, of cruelty, of fear,
and stay open. To love as if it matters,

as if the world depends on it.

Balance, Longing, and Gratitude

I am working on a small service for Wednesday evening. This is a 30-minute online Vespers, a time for poetry, song, and reflection. My theme is balance. I'm blending Dorianne Laux's Balance, the excerpt below from Kurt Vonnegut's Sirens of Titan, in which he writes of lovely and fanciful creatures called harmoniums that have found their own balance in the deep caves of Mercury, and David Whyte's essay on Longing in his (gorgeous, strange, brilliant) book Consolations.

And for the song, of course, Life Is Better with You by Michael Franti. I'm rocking this one!

Excerpt from Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut

The planet Mercury sings like a crystal goblet.
It sings all the time.
One side of Mercury faces the Sun.
That side has always faced the Sun. That side is a sea of white-hot dust.
The other side faces the nothingness of space eternal.
That side has always faced the nothingness of space eternal. That side is a forest of giant blue-white crystals, aching cold.
It is the tension between the hot hemisphere of day-without-end and the cold hemisphere of night-without-end that makes Mercury sing.
…
There are creatures in the deep caves of Mercury.
The song their planet sings is important to them, for the creatures are nourished by vibrations. ...
The creatures cling to the singing walls of their caves.
In that way, they eat the song of Mercury.
…
The creatures in the caves are translucent. When they cling to the walls, light from the phosphorescent walls comes right through them. The yellow light from the walls, however, is turned, when passed through the bodies of the creatures, to a vivid aquamarine.
Nature is a wonderful thing.
...
Each creature has four feeble suction cups – one at each of its corners. These cups enable it to creep, something like a measuring worm, and to cling, and to feel out the places where the song of Mercury is best.
Having found a place that promises a good meal, the creatures lay themselves against the wall like wet wallpaper.
…
They do not reach maturity, then deteriorate and die. They reach maturity and stay in full bloom, so to speak, for as long as Mercury cares to sing.
There is no way in which one creature can harm another, and no motive for one’s harming another.
Hunger, envy, ambition, fear, indignation, religion, and sexual lust are irrelevant and unknown.
The creatures have only one sense: touch.
They have weak powers of telepathy. ... They have only two possible messages.
The first is an automatic response to the second, and the second is an automatic response to the first.
The first is, ”Here I am, here I am, here I am.”
The second is, ”So glad you are, so glad you are, so glad you are.”

Prioritizing Me

I'm keeping an intention to fold in physical activities high in my consciousness. It still hasn't turned into action much, but the realization that fun = moving my body is still motivating me to figure it out.

The latest scheme is to try for some family bike rides when it cools down a little. I think we're going to "borrow" my 80-year-old mother's Schwinn for Beckett (a much more appropriate age for biking!) so that we will all have decent-ish bikes. Umea's is a second-hand store find. Actually, I think Eric's is, too. And mine is the bike I bought in grad school, which I still adore. 

The other goal is to play tennis Monday evenings. 

And soon I'll be able to get back to yoga at lunch 2 times a week. 

I've done fairly well going for one long-ish run on the weekends. 

One of the fun things at camp was playing "ga ga ball," which I hear is taking the nation by storm, following the pickle ball revolution. My son was surprised but pleased that his mom did pretty well - for a beginner! It was a reminder that I'm kinda athletic. Felt like being little and playing baseball and kickball and all kinds of other things - and being pretty good at most of them just by being fairly coordinated. 

Although ABQ does not have gaga ball pits, it is embracing pickleball. Many of my older friends are enamored. Once the City opens the registration for pickle ball lessons, I'll sign up to learn that. Then I need to find a partner to play with!

All of this requires carving out time in the week for something that I actually find fun, even though my kids don't. The past 14 years have been trying to find things to do as a family. Now... it's probably ok to strike out on my own again and leave them to their screens and their friends. 

Church Camp

We just got back from a week-long UU kids camp. I've been wanting to go for years; we hear a lot during the year about "camp magic" -- a place where generally reluctant UU kids actually want to go every year. 

There are no "families" at camp, even though most (but not all!) adult "counselors" are parents. Some were, but their kiddos are now adults. 

Like most camps, there are campers 3rd grade through 8th grade. Then there are Counselors-in-Training (CITs). Because people continue to want to come back, there are also "Young Adult Mentors" (YAMs). 

My 14-year-old leaned into the no families rule -- generally not making eye contact but not actively avoiding me. 

My 10-year-old declared the rule stupid and refused to follow it, but even so, he did not seek me out much, although bedtime was still important. Lots of singing! Which worked out well for his roommate, who was more homesick than most. 

So I was left as just myself - an adult among kids - parental but not a parent. At camp but not a camper. I found myself SO SELF-CONSCIOUS! Walking the delicate tightrope of asking questions but not be prying, being silent but not withdrawn, being present but not centering myself. I was the only adult who had not been to camp before, so I found myself empathizing with the new kids, who were also the quiet kids, on the edge of every game, sitting alone during meals. What is more tortuous than being a new kid? Turns out... being a new adult. The responsibility to do something about both my own discomfort and theirs made the discomfort urgent. So I went about gathering the loners into community. And by day 3, the CITs had been admonished enough that there were many helpers in this quest. 

And by day 5, there were no outliers. There were certainly still moments of discomfort and shyness and awkwardness that all kids - and all people - have. But camp magic worked. Many became one. And had fun. And accepted our infinite, unique quirkiness. 

I think all camps do this, some better than others. Some more intentionally than others. Our UU camp was very intentional, teaching the skill of inclusion and practicing the courage to show up. So vulnerable and so beautiful. 

The call to worship today at church:

Let's not go building new walls around our hearts

We have already enough that keeps us from each other

Enough that keeps us from ourselves.

For this hour we practice showing up with a willingness to see, to be seen

To remember ourselves, whole, and still becoming better

To believe it is ok to not be ok

That we are loved, even when we feel unlovable

That we belong, even when the ground comes out from under us

To be for each other a surprising generosity, a sudden

sweetness, a sign of hope the start of a new day.

Together, we can be this brave.

The welcoming song:

I pray for you; you pray for me. I love you; I need you to survive. 

I won't harm you with words from my mouth. I love you; I need you to survive. 

Groundedness

Umea asked me if I was ever fun. An old friend asked me what I did for fun. A new friend told me how he fills his days with joy now that he is retired. 

I have a new answer: tennis. To be more specific, tennis lessons. Turns out, I do not like playing matches, but boy do I love drilling! I've been doing it for several summers now, and this year, I seemed to come into my own. 

And the other things I fantasized about when picturing my retirement were similarly active - riding my bike, going for hikes, running. Turns out that what's fun is moving my body. 

How ironic when what I prioritize is being in my head. 

 It's so easy to get lost in there. 

When we talk about grounding ourselves, we so often mean in our bodies. Moving our breath from shallow to deep. Settling our weight into our hips. 

The metaphor for grounding to me has always been the rootedness of a tree - slow growth outward to grasp the earth and hold on, hold onto more and more as you grow. But today, listening to a meditation about courage, the metaphor the woman used was lighting, and I realized lighting grounds, too. A flash of electricity that connects sky to earth with violence and awesome beauty. There and then gone. A strike. 

I had asked some people at a party on 4th of July when they felt grounded in who they were. My friend's mother said - "Oh, very early. I was lucky to have people who mentored me toward leadership." This matches what I knew of her but was not the answer I was hoping to hear. But today, after telling that story, my friend said, "Sure, she felt grounded early, but she never felt free." She could never jump into a new situation, travel to Europe by herself. She was rooted to her spot in the world but didn't see much of it as a result. 

And so I now have 2 metaphors for groundedness that give me more freedom, more hope that whatever I am feeling is what I am supposed to be feeling - connecting to the here and now, digging deep and wide - and branching out (oops, still tree metaphor!) because I feel safe in who I am and so can leap into something new, strike out in a new direction and see what there is to see. 

For today, this feels revelatory. And enough. 

Meditation for Anxiety

As you breathe, feel how your anxiety is the high strung vibration of too much too fast, and how as you breathe out, you can deepen that tone, bring the high whine from your head and your face and your throat into a low vibrato in your core, like a tiger's roar, pushing you forward into movement from the icy block of your stuckness and fear. 

Dissatisfactions

I'm struggling this week with feeling out of balance on multiple tightropes. (Warning: much whining ensues.) 

Work feels so overwhelming that I don't have time to get organized enough to delegate work to others and free up time to work on what needs to be done. I am canceling meetings so that I can meet with others. I am working on the weekend so that I can actually put in time on tasks that take concentration. It's ... exhausting. And feels like there's no end and no solution and no way to continue. 

Exercise feels like there's never enough and no motivation to do more. I had been running with some ladies training for a marathon, but a few weekend trips away left me behind the wagon. Now I'm dragging myself 3 miles before it gets too hot by 8 am. Thankfully, yoga at work twice a week seems to be holding (and holding me steady), but while that is a GREAT deal and good value, it's still too much money. But I know investing in myself and my balance is worth a whole lot more. 

My relationship feels distant. My partner's been not feeling well for a couple weeks, which has left our schedules out of sync and our energies missing each other. And I have been hiding. Turning inward and then wondering why I feel so alone. 

My daughter continues to struggle with cutting. She seems joyful and yet emerges from multiple nights with visible scars of her anxiety. I do not know how to help her, and she seems wrapped in teen solipsism that leaves any solutions years beyond her reach or consideration. 

My son is addicted to a video game with shooting and death at its center. He rolls his eyes at us when we express worry and actively resists any attempt at redirecting his time and attention to other things. We have some leads about how to keep making other activities more viable, easier to choose, and yet the effort to keep them in front of him is relentless. 

My mother is far away in Michigan, and the physical distance is only one symptom of how far away she feels. My oldest sister went to my niece's wedding shower and wedding and did not give her a gift. I'm struggling with how to feel about that and whether there's anything I should do with my feelings. I'm angry and disappointed and feel protective of my niece and righteous about what my sister should have done. 

But there are blessings, too. This Friday I'm meeting up with one of my favorite work people who is in town. Next weekend, my neighborhood friend growing up is visiting from California. The next night is my 30th high school reunion. Then I spend a week at church camp. Then go to Navajo Lake with my old boss who has become the summer grandpappy for our family. 

And today I'm headed to a friend's house for wine. Tonight I'm meeting up with high school friends who were all thespians together.

There are many blessings. And maybe a little of this is an introvert feeling overwhelmed at living out loud in front of so many people. 

But maybe it's also that I am hiding from myself and what I should be doing to make my life what I want it to be. And it's hard to hide with so many people asking questions and loving me into showing up. 

Remembering the Future (prayer) by Theresa I. Soto

Can we develop the skill of remembering the future?
Can we commit to build the community that will extend
into a time that we only know by memory because it
will outlast us?
Memorize the compass points of the day
yet to come: the truth, the love, the fire, the endless yes
of the horizon.
Shake the scales from your imagination:
Reach. Stretch. Rise.
There is no more time for pretending
that everything can be all right without your care, without
your attention. You can mourn, grief being more real at times
than the promise of the sunrise. More real than the piece
of the moon, that by inconstant silver turns, disappears.
And yet. While we may mourn changes, losses, deceptions,
and betrayals, beneath the ash we find the ember. We
weep and then, as we have learned from labor movements,
we organize. Remember the day toward which we gather,
the tomorrow toward which we advance. It is with
your actions today that you engage that muscle memory,
that sense of smell, the ragged velvet feel of a day that
you have never lived. It is also your day. Remember it well.

Continuity of Experience

47 seems to be a year of reconnecting with my past. This summer will be my 30th high school reunion. 30 years. I dove into the rabbit hole of my high school year books and cybersleuthing to find those whom I remembered and cared about. Some have died. I'm reaching out to set up a Zoom reunion with my fellow Thespian officers from my junior year. 

And a poet I loved once passed away this summer. I re-entered a closed chapter of my life at his memorial. So strange to be remembered. And cared about by people who have kept me in amber as a twenty-something fun person in their memories. 

Umea had just asked me about my past - how often had I done drugs, was I ever cool, was I fun? I tried to explain to her that if you live long enough, you have eras in your life. Your own experience of yourself is continuous, but you are constantly changing, growing, pruning, shedding parts of yourself and what you used to care more about, what you used to do more of. And it's not just life and time that spurs these changes. Every person brings out more of this or that in you, the alchemy of connection or repulsion. You learn from it all. Learn about life but also yourself. What you like. Who you like. Why.

I drank a bottle of wine this week with a friend made during that poetry era. I liked who she loves. She sees the steamroller in me and knows it can make paths for those I value - like poets, like community-makers and storytellers. 

I dine tonight with my oldest friend, who came to every birthday since my 2nd ever through high school. We drifted apart in college but reconnected when we both ended up in Seattle after the turn to the new millennium. And stayed in touch through her saying goodbye to her father in a prison hospital. We grew life at the same time, gave life within a month of each other. We had girls, then, later, boys. We have lived our lives in parallel. Not the same. Not even together. But coming together every so often to witness, to share, to commiserate, to wonder and take turns feeling lost and confused.

And after finding pictures of our parents enjoying games and drinks, I sent them to my childhood neighbor friends. In some ways, those are my strongest memories. Because they were my first memories? Because they were so full of love and fun and joy? All of that. 

And this blog is filled with me realizing again and again that I don't remember if I don't write it down. And weeks and months and years pass, and the continuity of my experience means I don't learn, don't note the passing of time and lessons and love and joy. So, here is one. I am so grateful. I am so full right now of the bigness and strangeness of life. 

"Finding Your Own North Star" - Martha Beck

 Martha Beck - we carry 2 different selves in our heads, some speaking more loudly than others.

• Social self - learn from our families and cultures about what's "good" and what we "should" want. But also provides the skills that carry us toward our goals.
• Essential self - get from your genes. our inner child. helps you to know what you "really" want (even if no one else benefits).

Meditation

 Be here, be present. At peace with what is, and if not, pushing in the direction I want, if things can be changed, and if they can't, pushing back on my want to change me so that I can be at peace with what is. 

Retirement Planning

 Talking to my friend this morning about how he fills his days, since he's retired (and has been for 6 years, starting at age 56).

It's got me thinking about how I would spend my days if I wasn't on the treadmill of all that I have to do - driving kids to school, going to work, driving kids to therapy, cooking "dinner" that everyone will eat. There's probably 2 hours of "family time" that's either watching something together, doing homework, or playing games (not as often as we should, but supposedly every Tues/Thurs eve). Then there's 2 hours of time that I can read or watch something that I want before sleep. Too often that's falling down the rabbit hole of news or Seth Meyers or Stephen Colbert while I play Yukon solitaire or do an online jigsaw.

Good nights are when I do a 20-minute Yoga with Adrienne. Or walk the dog. Or read when I go to bed. Or fall asleep early.

And if I don't make great choices most nights with my 2 hours of me time, what on earth will I do with a whole day? A whole "rest of my life" of days?

So, to set some intentions or imagine the world I want to birth with possibilities, here's an ideal day:

I wake up when I wake up. No alarms. Go for a run or walk. Yoga. Meditation. Puttering/picking up. Put something in crockpot for dinner. Lunch with a friend. Head to volunteer job at church or around town. Reading with kids? Working in the church office? Then dinner with my husband. Watch a little something. Yoga or meditation or walk before bed. Maybe a little reading or journaling. Sleep when I want. Wake when I wake.

That sounds SO GOOD. 

What we pay attention to makes up our lives. What we practice grows stronger.

Morning Meditation - Jonathan Lehmann

 Video

Affirmations:

1.      I make plans but remain flexible. I try to say yes as often as possible.

2.      I cultivate patience, and by doing so, I cultivate self confidence

3.      I welcome the opportunity to step outside my comfort zone, and I do not let myself be guided by fear.

4.      I love myself unconditionally because it’s essential to my happiness. I love the person who I am, and I do not need other people’s approval to love myself fully.

5.      I’m going to drink water, eat fruit and vegetables, walk, take stairs, and exercise. Today, I’m giving love to my body.

6.      I give everywhere I go, even if only a smile, a compliment, or my full attention. Listening is the best gift I can give to those around me.

7.      I try to be impeccable with my word and to speak only to spread positivity. It’s counter productive to speak against myself or others. 

"Sorrow Is Not My Name" (poem) - Ross Gay

- after Gwendolyn Brooks

No matter the pull toward brink. No
matter the florid, deep sleep awaits.
There is a time for everything. Look,
just this morning a vulture
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
and I looked at him, admiring
the sickle of his beak.
Then the wind kicked up, and,
after arranging that good suit of feathers
he up and took off.
Just like that. And to boot,
there are, on this planet alone, something like two
million naturally occurring sweet things,
some with names so generous as to kick
the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon,
stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks
at the market. Think of that. The long night,
the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me
on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah.
But look; my niece is running through a field
calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel
and at the end of my block is a basketball court.
I remember. My color's green. I'm spring.

—for Walter Aikens

"Wait" (poem) - Galway Kinnell

Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven’t they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness to the old.

Wait.
Don’t go too early.
You’re tired. But everyone’s tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a while and listen.
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.

"To the Young Who Want to Die" (poem) - Gwendolyn Brooks

Sit down. Inhale. Exhale.
The gun will wait. The lake will wait.
The tall gall in the small seductive vial
will wait will wait:
will wait a week: will wait through April.

You do not have to die this certain day.
Death will abide, will pamper your postponement.
I assure you death will wait. Death has
a lot of time. Death can
attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is
just down the street; is most obliging neighbor;
can meet you any moment.

You need not die today.
Stay here--through pout or pain or peskyness.
Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.

Graves grow no green that you can use.
Remember, green's your color. You are Spring.

Mary-Frances Winters - 4E Model of Inclusion

Exposure

Experience

Education

Empathy

Then audit / scan for Effectiveness.

Winters Group - Inclusion Solution

Everyday Grace (poem) - Stella Nesanovich

It can happen like that:
meeting at the market,
buying tires amid the smell
of rubber, the grating sound
of jack hammers and drills,
anywhere we share stories,
and grace flows between us.


The tire center waiting room
becomes a healing place
as one speaks of her husband's
heart valve replacement, bedsores
from complications. A man
speaks of multiple surgeries,
notes his false appearance
as strong and healthy.

I share my sister's death
from breast cancer, her
youngest only seven.
A woman rises, gives
her name, Mrs. Henry,
then takes my hand.
Suddenly an ordinary day
becomes holy ground.

Meditation - Isn't This Surprising? - David Steindl Rast

Tonight’s meditation come to us from David Steindl Rast, a 96 year-old author, scholar, and Benedictine monk. 

He offers, “we [need to] wake up. Wake up to what? To surprise. As long as nothing surprises us, we walk through life in a daze. We need to practice waking up to surprise”. 

He suggests as a meditative practice, a simple question – used as a type of alarm clock: “Isn’t this surprising?” 

[and] “Yes, indeed!” will be the correct answer, no matter when and where and under what circumstances you ask this question. 

After all, isn’t it surprising that there is anything at all, rather than nothing? 

Ask yourself at least twice a day he says, “’Isn’t this surprising?’” and you will soon be more awake to the surprising world in which we live”.

As we sit in silence with one another – you’re invited to reflect on where you experienced surprises today.

For Joy by Jan Richardson (poem)

 

You can prepare

but still

it will come to you

by surprise

crossing through your doorway

calling your name in greeting

turning like a child

who quickens suddenly

within you

it will astonish you

how wide your heart

will open

in welcome

for the joy

that finds you

so ready

and still so

unprepared.

Chalice lighting - Kristin Famula

 

(quoted parts from “The Aesthetics of Joy”)

 

“Research shows that small bursts of positive emotion 

can help reset the body…”

“can reset …[our] physical responses 

to stress…”

Joy.

Research says

and yes, somehow we already know…

that joy…prepares our bodies.

JOY makes it possible

for us to show up

and show up…

to keep showing up.

 

Oh joy. 

Sometimes hidden.

Sometimes found in unexpected places.

joy… silly and small.

The free flowing sweetness,

and unbridled giggling.

sometimes even found in overwhelming sadness. 

Oh joy. 

Let this light be a reminder.

That “JOY is resistance” .