Behind the soulfulness of pure, saturated light and color, as best seen in the myriad flowered faces of Nature, is the beautiful face of God smiling down in blessing upon us. -- Narana
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Soulful Solitude
While in Atlanta, while I was thinking I was on this "business trip", while I was busying myself with the busy-ness of conferencing, something amazing transformed me.
I wish I could say it happened in a class that I was sitting in at the conference center. I wish that I could say, too, that it happened while I interacted with someone who I profoundly admire.
I don't know about how the spirits work -- I only know that that at times there is a presence that is either one of great comfort or one of great sorrow and sometimes you need both to get you to where you are going.
Whether it was the result of a beautiful surroundings, or eating certain kinds of food or getting rest...whatever created/caused it, all I can say it that I'm grateful.
When someone uses words like "spirit" or "sacred" around me, I get all nervous and twitchy, so engrained from my fundamentalist heritage are these words that they've lost their energy, they've lost their power. They tend to be reduced to some flannel-graph imagery associated with scratchy lace from my Easter Dress. Not a fun reminder. Not one that transports one into grandeurs of presence with a great Spirit.
But these moments aren't contained into things we always understand and I guess, because of my heritage, they have to be a bit more resourceful in sneaking up on me and bopping me on top of the head with insight.
And again, I'm grateful for that. As for flexibilty and workability, I'm not always an eager patient. I'm sure that whatever forces worked their way into my cranium this weekend had to work pretty darn hard to get there.
All I know is that there was a moment of such clarity that I had to stop -- literally stop -- in my tracks and look upward.
I didn't hear angels wings and I didn't see any great light -- except for the sun, which was just over my shoulder because this moment - like so many in my life -- happened in a garden while I was quiet and alone.
I believe there are great forces in nature that draw me to it that can shake the dreariest moments from my life simply by thrusting my hands into soil. I believe that these forces can lead us to ourselves in ways that no amount of traditional prayer can ever do so. I also believe that solitude can be a powerful way to connect with the things that matter -- yourself, your God and the things that are rustling between the two. I find that there is no place that I feel closer to whatever the spirit of God is than in a garden.
Today, I'm home and I've already been out in my little patch of paradise, thinking about the spring and what all it can be this year. My garden has waited for me -- like it does each year -- for this moment when I remember it, remember myself and remember the forces that draw me to it. And so today as I walked in my garden thinking about the garden of last year and the garden of the new year, I stopped for a moment and looked upward.
And I'm filled with gratitude and joy.
I wish I could say it happened in a class that I was sitting in at the conference center. I wish that I could say, too, that it happened while I interacted with someone who I profoundly admire.
I don't know about how the spirits work -- I only know that that at times there is a presence that is either one of great comfort or one of great sorrow and sometimes you need both to get you to where you are going.
Whether it was the result of a beautiful surroundings, or eating certain kinds of food or getting rest...whatever created/caused it, all I can say it that I'm grateful.
When someone uses words like "spirit" or "sacred" around me, I get all nervous and twitchy, so engrained from my fundamentalist heritage are these words that they've lost their energy, they've lost their power. They tend to be reduced to some flannel-graph imagery associated with scratchy lace from my Easter Dress. Not a fun reminder. Not one that transports one into grandeurs of presence with a great Spirit.
But these moments aren't contained into things we always understand and I guess, because of my heritage, they have to be a bit more resourceful in sneaking up on me and bopping me on top of the head with insight.
And again, I'm grateful for that. As for flexibilty and workability, I'm not always an eager patient. I'm sure that whatever forces worked their way into my cranium this weekend had to work pretty darn hard to get there.
All I know is that there was a moment of such clarity that I had to stop -- literally stop -- in my tracks and look upward.
I didn't hear angels wings and I didn't see any great light -- except for the sun, which was just over my shoulder because this moment - like so many in my life -- happened in a garden while I was quiet and alone.
I believe there are great forces in nature that draw me to it that can shake the dreariest moments from my life simply by thrusting my hands into soil. I believe that these forces can lead us to ourselves in ways that no amount of traditional prayer can ever do so. I also believe that solitude can be a powerful way to connect with the things that matter -- yourself, your God and the things that are rustling between the two. I find that there is no place that I feel closer to whatever the spirit of God is than in a garden.
Today, I'm home and I've already been out in my little patch of paradise, thinking about the spring and what all it can be this year. My garden has waited for me -- like it does each year -- for this moment when I remember it, remember myself and remember the forces that draw me to it. And so today as I walked in my garden thinking about the garden of last year and the garden of the new year, I stopped for a moment and looked upward.
And I'm filled with gratitude and joy.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Business respite
Over dessert, my friends were bemoaning their hotel accomodations during a hectic conference. They complained of most of the usual things that travelers complain -- too small rooms, feelings of overcrowded, views of concrete and parking lots.
I smiled as I thought about the cooked to order breakfast I had nestled in the dining room of the King-Keith Guest House (www.kingkeith.com) a fascinating historic Bed and Breakfast in Atlanta, GA. I remembered the walk in the garden that I had that morning before the business of the day enveloped me.
My room is huge with a private bath and I stay in touch with my internet, provided by high speed service that comes with my room. For midnight snacks, the pantry on the first floor is loaded with all my favorites, including animal crackers, cookies, soda, even wine. Admittedly, my own kitchen pales in comparison.
Yet all the antique furnishings and beautiful garden only compliment the casual graciousness of the Innkeepers who have that ability to serve without hovering. This is a place that has that elusive quality I like to call 'soul', which nurtures more than tired airport feet and weary conference blues. This place soothes and calms to make rest and respite possible.
The home is located in historic Inman Park whose rich history mirrors that of a city bustling with activities, from the oh-so- trendy Virginia Highlands Shopping District to the beautiful new Georgia Aquarium, there is much to do and see in this southern town. Just a few blocks from here is the Jimmy Carter Library and the CNN station heralds from just beyond the convention center. I expect to see Rev. Jesse Jackson or Jon Stewart or any of the Sierra Club at any local restaurant.
I crawled onto the plane hoping that upon my return, I'd have some time to rest. Not to worry, I'll arrive home rested and refreshed, filled with the comforts of southern Atlanta.
I smiled as I thought about the cooked to order breakfast I had nestled in the dining room of the King-Keith Guest House (www.kingkeith.com) a fascinating historic Bed and Breakfast in Atlanta, GA. I remembered the walk in the garden that I had that morning before the business of the day enveloped me.
My room is huge with a private bath and I stay in touch with my internet, provided by high speed service that comes with my room. For midnight snacks, the pantry on the first floor is loaded with all my favorites, including animal crackers, cookies, soda, even wine. Admittedly, my own kitchen pales in comparison.
Yet all the antique furnishings and beautiful garden only compliment the casual graciousness of the Innkeepers who have that ability to serve without hovering. This is a place that has that elusive quality I like to call 'soul', which nurtures more than tired airport feet and weary conference blues. This place soothes and calms to make rest and respite possible.
The home is located in historic Inman Park whose rich history mirrors that of a city bustling with activities, from the oh-so- trendy Virginia Highlands Shopping District to the beautiful new Georgia Aquarium, there is much to do and see in this southern town. Just a few blocks from here is the Jimmy Carter Library and the CNN station heralds from just beyond the convention center. I expect to see Rev. Jesse Jackson or Jon Stewart or any of the Sierra Club at any local restaurant.
I crawled onto the plane hoping that upon my return, I'd have some time to rest. Not to worry, I'll arrive home rested and refreshed, filled with the comforts of southern Atlanta.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Lunchtime writing
I'm sitting at my desk, putting the final touches on my morning. I'm returning calls, I'm returning emails, I'm doing, doing, doing.
But what I'm really doing -- is avoiding.
I'm avoiding tackling the writing assignment that I agreed to do. And I'm avoiding it very well. My excuses and my delays are all quality work. They sound good, like "when I'm done with this call, I'll start on that essay rewrite.." They are SO good that I believe them, I believe the lies that I tell myself, that I'm "going to get going.."
It's easy to see this in myself because for 14 years, I've seen it in other people that have told me without blinking that they were going to do such and such goal "as soon as... (the holidays, christmas, summer vacation, their divorce, when kids get out of school...).
The delays and excuses are all well thought out, rehearsed, just as mine are. We mean well, we really do. We really think that if we can just get over (blank), we'll have this time to do the things that we really WANT to do.
And each time I say the excuse, the stuff that's really important gets cast farther and farther from me.
The truth is, the only way to start is to start. To simply put down the phone, the email, to not answer the door or go on one more errand but to simply start. What is it that I am -- that we all are -- so afraid of?
I use to think that it was a fear of failure of some kind. Now I know differently. It's not failure I fear..it's finishing the feat and then saying, "wow, that's not so good after all. That achievement didn't satisfy my soul as I thought it would or that achievement, finishing of task didn't give me the thrill that was promised." I think the fear is more one of being let down when we throw our heart into something we love.
We're like crazed romantics, fearing to love with our heart and soul the things that we have hidden from ourselves for so long. Like the kid who fears asking out the beauty in math class because she just might say, 'yes'. And then there's that question, "NOW WHAT?"
I might finish my essay and find it's terrible. I might edit my novel and find that it really isn't that great of a story OR that the real story is still four or five drafts down the road. It might mean I have to work at this dream that has been tugging at my sleeve all my life. I might have to give myself over to the work of writing and then, have to rethink my life...that would be a LOT OF WORK!
I realize that dreaming is the easy part.
So I keep pushing the buttons on my phone, keep returning email, keep that dream at bay. Something about having the dream "out there" is alluring, like an unopened present that we think we'll get to open after all the other presents are opened from the tree.
Truth be told, chasing dreams is a heady business. It takes a lot of guts and soul to go after things that we've held close to us for years, kept quiet and thought about. It means that you may have to lay down some other things that you've become quite good at - maybe even excelled at -- so that you can become the person that you've always had in you to become. It means that you open up the toolbox of your skills and realize that you're short a few items and that getting those tools will require sweat, work, tears, pain. It means that you may look in the mirror in five years and look back over the first half of your life and say, "wow, what was all that other stuff about, anyway? How was I so far off track?"
It means engaging a larger world than the one you've beheld for so long.
So I start again. I make new resolutions, cross out meetings that I don't need to attend so that I can attend the soul work that is rising within me. I remember that the direction in which I go may be more important than the progress of that journey.
Excuse me, I've got work to do...
But what I'm really doing -- is avoiding.
I'm avoiding tackling the writing assignment that I agreed to do. And I'm avoiding it very well. My excuses and my delays are all quality work. They sound good, like "when I'm done with this call, I'll start on that essay rewrite.." They are SO good that I believe them, I believe the lies that I tell myself, that I'm "going to get going.."
It's easy to see this in myself because for 14 years, I've seen it in other people that have told me without blinking that they were going to do such and such goal "as soon as... (the holidays, christmas, summer vacation, their divorce, when kids get out of school...).
The delays and excuses are all well thought out, rehearsed, just as mine are. We mean well, we really do. We really think that if we can just get over (blank), we'll have this time to do the things that we really WANT to do.
And each time I say the excuse, the stuff that's really important gets cast farther and farther from me.
The truth is, the only way to start is to start. To simply put down the phone, the email, to not answer the door or go on one more errand but to simply start. What is it that I am -- that we all are -- so afraid of?
I use to think that it was a fear of failure of some kind. Now I know differently. It's not failure I fear..it's finishing the feat and then saying, "wow, that's not so good after all. That achievement didn't satisfy my soul as I thought it would or that achievement, finishing of task didn't give me the thrill that was promised." I think the fear is more one of being let down when we throw our heart into something we love.
We're like crazed romantics, fearing to love with our heart and soul the things that we have hidden from ourselves for so long. Like the kid who fears asking out the beauty in math class because she just might say, 'yes'. And then there's that question, "NOW WHAT?"
I might finish my essay and find it's terrible. I might edit my novel and find that it really isn't that great of a story OR that the real story is still four or five drafts down the road. It might mean I have to work at this dream that has been tugging at my sleeve all my life. I might have to give myself over to the work of writing and then, have to rethink my life...that would be a LOT OF WORK!
I realize that dreaming is the easy part.
So I keep pushing the buttons on my phone, keep returning email, keep that dream at bay. Something about having the dream "out there" is alluring, like an unopened present that we think we'll get to open after all the other presents are opened from the tree.
Truth be told, chasing dreams is a heady business. It takes a lot of guts and soul to go after things that we've held close to us for years, kept quiet and thought about. It means that you may have to lay down some other things that you've become quite good at - maybe even excelled at -- so that you can become the person that you've always had in you to become. It means that you open up the toolbox of your skills and realize that you're short a few items and that getting those tools will require sweat, work, tears, pain. It means that you may look in the mirror in five years and look back over the first half of your life and say, "wow, what was all that other stuff about, anyway? How was I so far off track?"
It means engaging a larger world than the one you've beheld for so long.
So I start again. I make new resolutions, cross out meetings that I don't need to attend so that I can attend the soul work that is rising within me. I remember that the direction in which I go may be more important than the progress of that journey.
Excuse me, I've got work to do...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)