To Be, Or Not To Be

Last Tuesday, June 21^st, was World Yoga Day as voted on in a resolution by the United Nations. Programs, classes and interviews with the world’s leading teachers and inspirational leaders were broadcast online all day and well into the night due to the time differences. I spent the day awash in the beauty of the teachings, the fluidity of the movements, and the yearning in my heart that the music and chanting uncovered. One teacher in particular seemed to reach out to me across the air waves and hold me in his words and his eyes. His name was Mooji. I was so taken with him that I looked up his website and found that he had dozens and dozens of free video sessions, or “satsangs” as they are called. In one of them, he was talking to a young man who was trying to live his life spontaneously instead of always having to live by a plan. Mooji turned to his students and, looking out at them, invited them to throw away the life they planned and learn to “just be.”

The next day I took some time to ponder on that and made it the focus of my morning meditation. At first my mind balked at such a thing. Sure, it was okay to do that once in a while, or even to make some time each day to just be as I was doing at that moment with my meditation practice, but to live your whole life that way? It seemed irresponsible to me at first. So I sat with it a while longer. Opening my eyes I looked out into the garden and sat in perfect stillness, with no noise except that of the birds and the farm trucks that passed on the road. For almost an hour, I sat … and sat … and sat. I looked at a patch of daises that had popped up out of nowhere this year and were waving their faces in the morning breeze. Those daises, I thought, have no plan. They do what they need to do to survive, like reaching for the sun, and taking in water and nutrients from the soil, but they do not plan to live, they just live. I looked at the purple spires thrusting up from the Lamb’s Ear plants, and the hummingbird that was going from one to the other getting what it needed. It had no plan for the day. It didn’t say, “Well, I’ll go visit the Lamb’s Ear this morning, and then I’ll go over to the farmhouse across the street after lunch and see what the lady put in the feeder.” No, he simply went about his business being a hummingbird. Sure, he had a job to do which was to feed and protect himself, just as we all do, but he didn’t agonize or obsess over it. He was just “being” a hummingbird.

As I look back over my life, I am amazed at how I managed to arrive at this ripe old age intact and sane. How many years I wasted as I drove myself to distraction with planning my life. It is certainly okay to have dreams and goals, but if we don’t allow ourselves the space to just be who we are, and be okay with it, we cut ourselves off from our real lives. In the end, as Mooji told us that day, we don’t really need anything to be happy, but we do need something to be sad. It takes no energy to be the Self, but a lot of energy to be a person. I’d rather be a happy self than a sad person.

I still get up every morning now and do my morning prayers, my chair yoga and my meditations. I still make the bed, wash the dishes, sweep the kitchen floor and attend to my daily responsibilities. I still show up at my keyboard or journal and write. The difference is that I don’t do any of it according to any plan or timetable. I do it as it comes. I don’t fret over it or complain about it. I am just “being.” And when the time comes for me to sit, I give myself over to the Self that witnesses all, sees all, and needs nothing. Not a bad way to live, don’t you think?

And so it is.

P.S. For those of you who read my post about Doris the Morning Dove, I have an update: she's found a boyfriend! All of that lonely cooing and calling paid off in the form of a stout-looking guy who follows her everywhere. Let this be a lesson to all of the ladies: when you send out love, love flies back to you!

The Right Stuff

When I was a little girl, these were my heroes - The Mercury 7 Astronauts! You could have your cowboys, movie stars and superheroes. I could not imagine anything braver than going out into space, the great unknown, to see the stars up close and look for life on other planets. That was the kind of stuff that heroes did. Little wonder that some years later, the move, "The Right Stuff" became one of my favorites. However, none of these brave men were my very first hero. My very first hero was my Dad.

My dad was not very big in statue. He claimed to be 5'9", but I don't think he ever made it past 5'6". He was the youngest of three brothers with one sister who was the actual baby of this Italian family back in Brooklyn, New York. My grandfather, his dad, died in a work related accident when my father was only 11. Born in 1903, those were the days before workers' comp or social security so there were no death benefits. It was also before child labor laws and mandatory school ages were imposed. So at the age of 11 my dad left school to get a job along with his brothers to help support the family. He kept up his math and reading skills on his own and taught himself how to be an auto mechanic by apprenticing with someone. By the time he was an adult, he had taught himself enough to open his own service station which he kept up and running for over 40 years, and which supported his wife and children until he retired.

We were a family of 3 girls, so I, being the middle child and, therefore, neither the oldest nor the baby,  became the son he never had. He was always patient with my endless questions as I watched him work on cars, or fix things around the house. He would explain the different parts under the hood, what they did, and what they were supposed to sound like when they were working well. If I didn't understand something, he would draw me a picture to show me how it worked. He let me handle the tools and he never talked down to me because I was a girl. He treated me as a person in my own right. I repaid his kindness by being the one who sat with him on Sundays to watch his westerns and war movies with him, even though he had seen most of them a dozen times and usually fell asleep half way through them. Hey, you can never get too much John Wayne!

Even though he worked long hours and did not have a great deal of time to spend with us, he always asked how we were doing in school, what we were up to, and how our friends were. He always "showed up" to be a dad, even if it wasn't as often as I would have liked. He would be the peace keeper in disputes between myself and my mom, or myself and my older sister who was 2 years older than I (my younger sister came along when I was 8 and I became her self-appointed second mother). He was always calm in an emergency, always looked for the logical solution to a problem, and always told us that no problem lasted forever if we just let it go.

We lost my dad in 1991, right before his 88th birthday. Before the dementia and Alzheimer's claimed his memory and personality, he gave my mom a very special Christmas present, a Fisher-Price little boy doll named My Buddy. He told my mom that it was the son he was never able to give her. When my mom died 10 years later, Buddy came to live with me and has the place of honor on my bed - my little brother!

The first heroes in our lives should be our dads, and I salute all those men who "show up" and take on that responsibility. I know it isn't easy to raise kids in these days of terrorists and wars, and hate-filled politics. Our dads need to be the ones who let us know in no uncertain terms that he has our back and that we are safe. So for all of those dads out there who have The Right Stuff, I say Happy Father's Day. May you raise sons that follow in your footsteps, and daughters who marry a guy just like their dad.

And so it is.

Always Stay Humble and Kind

"Hold the door, say please, say thank you.

Don't steal, don't cheat and don't lie.

I know you have mountains to climb,

but always stay humble and kind."

Time McGraw

The first time I heard this song, I was so struck by the words and the intentions. Sometimes a song comes along that just stops you in your tracks and makes you listen. Like the song "Happy" that went on to become such a phenomenon, "Humble and Kind," by country superstar Tim McGraw calls to us to find the best in ourselves, and remember that love, kindness and compassion should be a way of life, not something out of the ordinary. Kindness breeds happiness, for the giver as well as the recipient.

I can remember a time when holding doors, saying please and thank you, addressing people as Mr. Miss, Mrs. and Sir (and yes, even Ms) was the norm. Saying excuse me, pardon me, and the big one, I'm sorry, came as easily as breathing. Where did that all do? When did we decide as a nation that kindness, compassion and even common civility was not longer needed? Have we been so hypnotized and addicted by technology that every day, decent, human interaction has been marginalized to the back row?

Call me old fashioned, but I still believe that peace in the world begins with peace in the home and the community, and all of it begins with kindness, compassion and civility. I even say "excuse me" when trying to get past a fur baby blocking my path in my apartment, or disturbing them when I need to turn on the vacuum cleaner (they hate that). I understand that everything and everyone responds to kindness. Yes, I am one of those people who talk to their plants, the neighborhood animals both wild and domestic, and perfect strangers. I am that person who will smile at someone walking down the street, or at the girl behind the counter at Dunkin' Donuts, or to the checkout lady at WalMart.  Mine could be the only smile they get that day, or the only kind words they hear. I like to think that I am doing my part for the healing of the energy on Mother Earth and all of her children. It doesn't cost you a cent to be kind, but the return on your investment is beyond measure.

We all have problems. We all have "mountains to climb." Doesn't the climb get a little easier, though, when people are kind to us? I know I see things much more clearly and with a much more positive perspective when I have been the recipient of unsolicited kindness. I'm not talking about anything huge. I'm talking about the simple things like having someone hold the door, letting me get ahead of them in line if I only have one item, serving me in a restaurant with a big smile of welcome. When you do that for others, it makes them feel special. They feel seen, validated ... they feel that they matter to someone.

So what do you say? Let's start a Humble and Kind Campaign! Let's make it a priority to see how many times during the day we can be kind and polite to a total stranger. Maybe we can start a Facebook page called Humble and Kind so we can post our list and the reactions of the people who are on the receiving end. Who knows? Maybe we can start a world-wide phenomenon called Humble and Kind. Stanger things have happened.

By the way, thank you. No special reason. Just because you're here.

And so it is.

On Which Side Of The Road Do Your Flowers Grow?

Sometimes a book just kind of falls into your lap that quite simply steals your heart. Such is the case with the book: "On Which Side Of The Road Do The Flowers Grow?" by Wendell E. Mettey. The author is a minister who has compiled a collection of stories about some very special members of his church who came into his life with a special gift to give that even they didn't know they had. The title of the book refers to a story he tells at the beginning of the book that sets up all of the essays to follow. I will paraphrase the story here:

     There was once a servant who was given the job of water carrier by his master. The job entailed carrying the water jugs to the village each day, filling them at the well, and carrying them back. The servant thought that the master had made a mistake as this was the lowest job in the house and the servant was too smart and resourceful for such a lowly task. Every day as he went back and forth to the village for water, he grumbled and complained. He didn't even spend a few moments talking and exchanging pleasantries with the women who gathered at the well every day. He was convinced that his master had made a mistake and that he deserved better.
     One day as he was walking into the village he was struck by this thought: what if it wasn't the job that was the problem but the servant himself? What if he decided to not only do his job without complaint, but to become the very best water carrier that his master, or anyone else for that matter, had ever seen? He decided then and there to do just that. He started by carving a yoke from which to hang his water jugs. That way he could carry two at one time, one at each end, and carry even more water than before. 
     From that moment on, he became a better servant, and a better man, than anyone in the village had ever known. Not only did he treat his job with respect and mindfulness, but he took the time every day to stop and speak with the women at the well and travelers he met on the road. He would listen to their problems and concerns, and give them his advice and blessings. He soon became a blessing to the entire village.
     When the time came for him to pass, the entire village came to pay their respects. They even went into the shed where he kept his precious jugs, thinking to do his job for him. They were surprised to see that along with the new, well kept jugs were jugs with cracks in them. One good jug was tied to one end of the yoke, and one with cracks were tied to the other. When the townspeople asked him why he carried cracked jugs and wasted so much water, he told them that when they returned to the village, they should look to see which side of the road the flowers grew on. Indeed, one side of the road from his master's house all the way to the village was a bounty of beautiful flowers. His cracked jug had grown beauty for everyone to enjoy as they made their way up and down the road.

 The moral of the story, of course, is that we do not need to be perfect because it is from our imperfections that beauty is born. And so the rest of Rev. Mettey's book is filled with stories of imperfect people, some of them with many, many cracks, that watered the spirits of all who came in contact with them.

  Perfection is the realm of The Creator. Just look at a flower. For the rest of us, we just have to do the very best we can with the cracks we have and know that it is through the cracks that we water the flowers of not only our lives but the lives of everyone around us. We just need to listen, learn, and then water where needed.

And so it is.
   
     

     

A Lesson In Friendship

This is Doris. Actually, it’s Doris 2. Allow me to explain.

If you’ve followed this blog for the last few years you will remember that previously I lived in an urban area. I had a bird feeder outside the window of my office in my apartment on the top floor of the building. There was a small wooden back porch with steps leading down to the parking lot that allowed me this little bit of country living. Every day a parade of birds and squirrels came by for a visit. Some of them were very distinctive and the writer in me (okay, the child in me as well) started naming them. 

There were Mr. and Mrs. C (cardinals), Freddie the adolescent blue jay who crashed into everything like a gawky 14 year old kid, and a rather disheveled looking squirrel I called Little Tail because some predator had tried to capture him by grabbing his tail but only succeeded in pulling out the fur, leaving a skinny string behind him. Then there was Belle, another squirrel who had her tail completely torn off by another predator (I highly suspected the neighborhood cats in these attacks) and had to go through life with just a fuzzy nub. There was a flock of starlings who ate everything in sight and scared everyone else away that I nicknamed The Angry Birds. Finally, there were the morning doves that I affectionately named Doris, Lucille and Rocky. Doris was the more demure of the two females. When Rocky would try to get closer to her, she just kept ducking her head and moving away. We he tried it with Lucille, he got pecked good and hard on the head. While I applauded Lucille for letting Rocky know she wouldn’t be pushed around, I totally gravitated to Doris. She was shy and quiet, and made a sound like a sweet note of music that floated on the breeze. She became a sweet friend who visited with me daily and serenaded me while I worked.

Alas, when I moved, I had to say goodbye to my animal neighbors. We had spent several lovely years together and had weathered some pretty severe winters. I always made sure the feeder was filled with food, that there was some water that wasn’t frozen and extras like suet and nuts. I filled everything for the last time the day I moved and left it there, hoping against hope that the next inhabitants would see the beauty that I saw and carry on the tradition.

When I moved to the country, I was ready to be surrounded by birds, squirrels, rabbits and anyone who happened to live nearby. Alas, it has been over a year and a half, and I have not seen one squirrel. I have only seen two rabbits, and an occasional cardinal or blue jay. I do see many, many finches, and a whole slew of Angry Birds whom I have decided to make peace with. In exchange, they have gifted me with shows of remarkable synchronized flying. I have become enthralled watching honey bees at work, spiders weaving magic and the sweet lowing of cows on the hill. When I asked the neighbors what was up with the lack of small wildlife in the area, the answer was that there were a large number of predators in the area, eagles, hawks and owls especially, and that most of the smaller animals made their homes somewhere else. I was devastated. There would be no friends to name, no daily visits. No Freddie, or Belle, or, worst of all, no Doris. Or so I thought.

The other day, as I was tidying up the kitchen, I heard a familiar sound from outside. It was the unmistakable sound of a dove calling out. I ran out to the front room and looked out of the big window. There on a fence post sat a sweet little morning dove, all shades of grey and beige with what I called beauty spots all over her. She called and called for a while, then floated down to the grass where she commenced to picking up bits of straw and grass. She took a mouthful up to the little willow tree in the garden and came back for another load. She was building a nest.

My heart broke open with happiness. I know there are bigger things in the world than the return of a bird into my life even if it wasn’t actually the same bird.  I understood that while the world seemed to be going to hell in a hand basket all around me, I had been grieving for my little feathered and furry neighbors to appear and welcome me to the neighborhood as if they could help to assure me that I had made the right decision by making such a big move. What I didn’t understand was that it wasn’t the animals themselves that had made the difference, it was my reaching out to them unconditionally from where I lived, giving in love, always there when needed, giving them a safe place to rest. What they taught me was all about love and friendship. It comes in all shapes, sizes and species. It gives from the heart and doesn’t ask anything in return. That’s what friends do.

So now Doris and I are reaching out and making new friends. I go out every morning and walk around the yard, wishing all of our feathered friends a good day. Doris is still busy building her nest and the Angry Birds are happily hanging out up the hill at the cow palace hoping for some dropped grain and practicing their new flying routines. The geese from the pond down the hill do a few flybys every now and then, and I swear our robins are the fattest birds I’ve ever seen – which could be why I never see any worms! My human neighbors see me out strolling and give a wave or stop to say a few words on their way here and there. The rural bus drivers and school bus drivers honk and wave as they go by. This is why I came. This is why I decided to make this place my home. Here we are giving from the heart, even if it’s only a wave or a crust of bread.

And so it is.

Would You Care For Some Peace?

"Do you want to be right, or do you want peace?"

Dr, Wayne Dyer

We've all been there. Someone says or does something that sets off alarm bells in our head. We know they're wrong. They're not only wrong, they are really, really wrong. Then that voice of the ego kicks in and tells us, "well, you'd just better set them straight because you know you're right and they're wrong!" Before you know it, the need to be right, the need to change other people's ideas and behaviors, takes over like kids on a sugar rush after a birthday party!

What is it with humans that they feel they have to be right all of the time? I'm not saying that there aren't circumstances where things are happening in the world that are definitely wrong from anyone's perspective, like violence, terrorism, pain and suffering - and let us not forget the current political atmosphere. We can see the wrong in all of it like a neon sign blazing through the darkness. Yet if we rush at it with philosophical and verbal guns blazing, all we do is fan the flames and give whatever we are fighting against more fuel. 

Then how do we deal with all of this and still find peace? We start by choosing our battles. Our egos start taking charge when we are very little. We mimic the behavior of our elders. We hear them  yelling at the TV, or at each other, fighting to prove who is right, who has the superior position, what is acceptable and what is not. Often it's over things that, a year from now, no one will even remember, but that will have robbed them of a few moments of peace that they can never get back. So what if you don't like the fashions your kids like, or the music? So what if your front and back yards don't look like House Beautiful? So what if you decide to stop dying your hair, wear yoga pants and take up organic gardening? Does it bring you peace? 

On the other hand, when we see harm coming to ourselves or others, when we see injustice and hate gaining ground, we need to step in but not with the same ego infused idea that being right is an excuse for acting out in negative ways. If peaceful protest and strength in love and numbers worked for Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr., it can certainly work for us. Do what you can, with what you have, from where you are and find like minded people to join you. Fighting for animal rights? Go vegan. Petition for jail time for people who abuse animals. Politically involved? Volunteer to make phone calls, stuff envelopes, knock on doors and hold peaceful town hall meetings. Get involved but for the right reasons, not the ego's reasons. 

As I write this I am running a few loads of laundry using chemical free detergents and dryer sheets. I am sipping organically grown coffee and nibbling at toast made by a local baker smeared with a vegan cream cheese substitute. After I post this blog I am going online to write a letter to my state senator in support of keeping fracking out of my area. Tomorrow I am going to the local farmer's market to support my neighbors and buy local. This is what I can do, with what I have, from where I am. I don't have to be right. I just have to do right. 

And so it is. 

Feed a Cold, Starve a Limiting Belief

I have a cold. I hate spring colds. Just when the weather is finally getting better and you yearn to be outdoors with the birds and the bees, you suddenly start sneezing about 15 times in a row and your eyes start feeling like they are sinking under water. “Maybe it’s just my allergies,” you try to reassure yourself, except you know don’t have any spring allergies. You have fall allergies. Then the headache and the urge for a blanket, a cup of tea and endless reruns of Columbo all converge on you and you know without a doubt – you have a cold.

At this point we remember that old tried and true saying passed down from mother to daughter for generations: “Feed a cold, starve a fever.” So you brew a pot of herbal tea and make sure you have OJ and soup on hand. Actually, what you’re doing is making sure that you stay hydrated in order to flush the cold virus out of your system.

It occurred to me as I curled up on the recliner with lemon ginger tea at my side and my journal on my lap that it would be lovely if we could stretch this idea to include starving those bad habits and beliefs that no longer serve us and flushing them right out of our system. If we don’t feed them, or encourage them, they die. For example, how many times do we criticize ourselves, judge ourselves, speak harshly to ourselves and buy into what other people say about us? We spend hours being bombarded by ads that tell us that we’re not acceptable unless we lose 30 pounds, use certain make-up, wear designer clothes or drive a certain car. We believe people who tell us we’re not smart enough, pretty enough, worth loving or capable of achieving our dreams. All of that can add up to a pretty heft case of unhappiness fever. 

So how do we flush all those nasty defeating behaviors out of our system? By filling ourselves up with positive beliefs every minute of every day. Like a cup full of nasty tasting medicine, if we just keep pouring sweet nectar into the cup, eventually it will push the nasty stuff out and the cup will overflow with nectar. I am a big fan of Louise Hay’s Mirror Work and I can’t think of a better brand of nectar to use to flush out what is making us heart sick. For example, every time you pass a mirror, you look into your eyes and say something positive, like: “I love you, I really love you.” Coach and author Cheryl Richardson keeps a mirror on her desk and has a whole litany of positive affirmations she uses, such as: “You’re the smartest woman I know,” or, “I always have your back,” and, my favorite, “How’d you get so cute?” The ones I personally use are: “You are perfectly capable for every situation”,” I am enough,”  “Only good lies before me,” and “All is well.”

When we take the time to treat ourselves like we would treat our best friend, we flush out everything that no longer serves us, or is making our lives “sick,” and create a beautiful and healthy relationship with ourselves, the most important relationship we’ll ever have. If we don’t “feel well” when we’re alone with ourselves, how are we supposed to build healthy relationships with others? We have to make ourselves a priority and treat ourselves in healthy and healing ways.

So today I am giving myself the gift of extreme self-care. I am keeping the fluids going, making sure to flush out the bad stuff to make room for good health. I am eating healthy foods, popping my vitamin C and curling up with a good book. I may even allow myself a nap later. Hopefully by tomorrow I’ll feel better. What a nice way to care for my BFF!

And so it is.