Glimmers

Dear Friends,

How are you as this new month arrives? Although its raining today at Lake Beseck, the promise of summer has already lifted our hearts and opened the windows. Time to pause and reflect…

Years ago, I was given this little story and subsequently shared it with others. It offers a piece of wisdom that makes sense.

An elder Cherokee Native American was teaching his grandchildren about life. He said to them, “A fight is going on inside me…it is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, generosity, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, truth, compassion and faith. This same fight is going on inside you and every other person too.”

They thought about that for a moment, when one child asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The grandfather looked his grandchild in the eyes and said, “The one you feed.”

And that is the end of the traditional story. We hear it and nod our heads, don’t we? We think, “Yes, I am invited to embrace the good in myself and stop ‘feeding’ the bad that is within me.” We nod our heads and move forward in our lives, believing we follow the better path.

But these days I find the story incomplete, for it leaves out another option. It leaves out a fuller understanding of our complex humanity. For me, that which we reject – our pride or guilt or sadness or even anger – is not a flaw to be eliminated. It is evidence of wounds. It is a form of coping with life’s challenges.

To reach our fullness as human beings we are invited to move out of the either/or mentality, of choosing between these wolves. Instead, we are invited to adopt the both/and point of view. We are invited to embrace all of ourselves, for we are creatures of both joy and fear, both hope and envy, both empathy and guilt.

Another option? Do not starve the second wolf, instead offer it the sweet milk of compassion. Help it find a new way to be understood and heard. Listen to the wolf’s cries, and even its growls, and provide a soothing touch to calm its pain. Life is not a tale of win or lose, but of healing and hope.

                               Trust the wisdom found in the fullness of life. Trust the wisdom found in yourself.

with love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

This May Glimmer comes just as the leaves are starting to show themselves in Connecticut. It was a long winter here, as you know, and Spring seems to be shy about arriving. Most of the people I talk to about the weather feel we deserve good weather because we have endured such a rough winter. It’s funny isn’t it? Why do we place entitlement on weather patterns?

I’ve been thinking about “rhythms” lately….the rhythms of weather, both daily and seasonally…or how about the rhythms of being busy or relaxed? Maybe this topic came up because I am in the process of creating my own daily rhythm, instead of responding to the demands of working for an employer. And I was thinking that many of the rhythms in people’s lives are imposed from the outside…a child needs you? you respond immediately. Refrigerator breaks? time to research brands and set up delivery. Friends ask for some time to visit or become too busy for a visit? you respond as it unfolds.

I was looking at one of our tall trees the other day, wondering when the leaves will arrive. As I considered the life of a tree, I realized the tree has a very slow rhythm. Unlike you and me, who dart around to complete, accomplish or do. The tree? It knows it’s job is to be. That’s all, just be. And it’s purpose in life, its “treeness,” is to be a tree. It’s calling is to wait, be, and slowly move through the yearly changes. The tree, by BEing, seemed to be teaching me about my own call to be.

Here’s my question for you. Is it possible to look at our lives and make choices that influence the patterns we follow every day? Can our rhythm be shaped from the inside, not just from outside influences? Can we respect our personal rhythms and make adjustments so we are living with greater connection to our true self and to the Divine? I’ve a friend who takes a “pause” after a meeting or encounter and checks in with herself. Instead of rushing to the next task, she is making a practice of listening inside, then trusting what she hears. She’s finding this new rhythm is keeping her more grounded and more “in the moment.”

We all hear God speak in different languages – a child’s laugh, a particular scripture, a brilliant sunrise or a moment of vulnerability. I would suspect, though, that regardless of the language chosen, our part in this conversation is our capacity to listen. To pause and to really listen. We will not hear Love through that little one’s laugh or a friend’s tears of gratitude unless we slow down. Our personal rhythm needs regular quiet time if we are to experience the fullness of life, the fullness of who we are.

Just as the tree is being “tree,” I am being called to be “me.”

with love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

As I begin this April Glimmer, my mind and heart turns to each of you. It really does! I’ve heard from enough of you to realize that we’re in a conversation – even if it happens only once a month. I have learned that my thoughts, feelings and prayer join with yours and in doing so, we create something new…maybe even something holy.

And so, I’m wondering…what does “holy” mean to you? Where do you find “the holy” in your life? It seems an appropriate theme this month as Christian friends walk through Holy Week and Jewish friends prepare for Passover. We usually find an understanding of “holy” in our religious traditions and stories – they invite us to move into realms such as freedom and resurrection that transcend our day-to-day experience. It’s a gift, in fact, to find an experience of “the holy” in our worship and to share it’s Presence in community.

But so many look outside religion for inspiration or may have stopped looking. And that pattern invites the question...What does “holy” look like for you? Years ago, I watched and listened as a nursing home caregiver combed and braided a patient’s hair. Her gentle movements and tender touch joined with a sweet melody as this holy moment unfolded. This caregiver’s song invited grace into the room. Another image comes from a friend who has set aside a place in her house for prayer and meditation. This space, cared for and filled with intention and love, has indeed become a holy space and supports her relationship with the Divine.

Yesterday, a friend told me about watching Boston Marathon bombing survivors coming onto the field at Red Sox Spring Training in Florida. As she described the scene and her own emotional response to it, I found myself praying for these innocent victims and those that did not survive. I entered into an awareness of the holy, as the horror of their lives sunk in. For me, when things make no sense I stop trying to cram the facts into a box of logic. I let go and ask Love to enter, to soothe, to heal all of us who’ve experienced or witnessed pain.

Holy is easily seen in the swell of a young mother’s belly or a young father’s kiss on the forehead of his sweet baby. Holy blazes forth as the sun breaks out into the morning sky and the birds rejoice. I invite you to look for your holy moments, wherever they may be. After you find them, stop. Pause. Reflect. Be.

“The Holy” invites to step into the fullness of life, the whole of life. Holy moments embrace brokenness and discord for they, too, are part of the amazing wholeness of creation. Holy moments remind us of fundamentals…being, trusting, loving. And for me, dear friends, this is one of those holy moments. As I write to you my heart reaches
out in love. As I see you in my mind’s eye, I
trust that which is greater than you and I. Our conversation becomes our communion as I let go into God. Be well…

With love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

A few years ago, I was driving in a long line of cars…. from the funeral to the burial of a good man. Traveling alone, I looked at the houses and tall trees. As I followed the car in front of me, I watched people mowing their lawn. Lots of time to think…..

I was thinking mostly about John, as we escorted his body to the cemetery. I was trying to find the words that I felt best described him, the words I would say as part of our prayer and goodbye. Of course, my thoughts wandered. Every loss reminds us of other losses, and I too dipped into that place of loss in my own life. It sits behind my heart, quiet most days. But life sometimes draws back the curtain and returns us to the uncertain feelings that reside there.

I have learned to trust the feelings and thoughts that emerge from that space behind my heart. They, like John, reveal the gift of integrity. Let me explain...

John’s 90 year old body survived a long-ago stroke but responded with atrophy and spastic movements. John managed in a wheelchair, but with only one hand working his progress was slow. When I asked him if I could push the chair to events at the nursing home, I waited for his answer. It was important to recognize his choice in that moment. In spite of the serious challenges of aging, he retained a dignity and warmth that instructed all his caregivers. This was a man of integrity. A man who knew himself as whole, despite his broken body.

Each of us have broken places, some more obvious than others. Life brings loss, doubt, rejection, pain…all sorts of experiences that erode our self-esteem. Each of us have gifts, some we’re willing to name, others not so much. But as humans, we have these wonderful capacities to love, be patient, to create, to choose hope, and so many more. The call to integrity invites us to gather the “whole of ourselves,” to honor our brokenness and accept our giftedness. The call to integrity beckons us toward a life of standing in our own spot, with ease and grace, as we stand in and among the world.

We know what integrity looks like: a tree in its fullness, a chair well-made, a handshake of forgiveness. May these images and John’s story inspire you to take some time to experience your own integrity.

Honor and accept your flaws, welcome and embrace your gifts.

The world needs the whole of you, the “you” that God created you to be.

with love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

As 2014 comes to an end, I sit in wonder at the year’s lessons and transitions. If we are awake to it, life is filled with moments and invitations for deeper awareness. Some transitions are painful, of course, as we are hollowed out to contain so much more of life’s energy and gifts. And still we keep going…taking risks, loving, staying alive to life.

I’ve been thinking a lot about change and transformation lately. We choose a major in college, a mate, a house. We seek new friendships, retirement, or adventures. At the same time, though, friends move away, we face a serious illness, a job ends, a loved one dies. It seems change is both an internal and external presence in our lives.

As Buddha taught, “Everything changes, nothing remains without change.”

But transformation is a different matter, isn’t it? I’m wondering…is transformation how we response to change?

Victor Frankl explains in Man’s Search for Meaning that

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” 

That is how I understand the invitation to transformation, and it’s an invitation that many don’t want to accept. This type of change requires digging deep and facing truths. It requires letting go of painful patterns and attitudes that are familiar, even safe. Transformation means considering a new “way of being.”

If my words have touched upon the unending or demanding changes in your life right now, I’d like to suggest an experiment to help soften the daunting task of transformation. 12-step programs call it “Act, as if” or “Fake it until you make it.” I call it “It’s time to play dress-up!” Do you remember digging through a box of old clothes as a young child? Were you blessed to jump into this world of imaginary play where skirts, hats, wigs or suspenders became a spark for a whole new way of talking or interacting in a made-up scene?

I offer you, friends, this image of playing dress-up to try new responses to the changes that come your way. Try on “Life is ok” for 10 minutes or pull “I am ok” over your head for 8 ½ minutes. Walk in the shoes of “I can do this” for that next difficult encounter and see what it feels like. Give yourself a break from self-consciousness or anxiety and, instead, breathe in peace or confidence. This experiment is not offered as an alternative to inner work, but as a companion or respite from the hard work of knowing and transforming oneself.

I’ve also been thinking about courage. As we consider and embrace the invitation to transformation, let us call upon courage to guide the way.

Poet EE Cummings reminds us, “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

Blessings to you this day, Lisa

Dear Friends,

I am pondering the dance between technology and a reflective life….

Have you found yourself missing steps or tripping over yourself as you keep up with your newest device? Or are you madly following a new set of instructions, as if learning dance steps in a crowded room, eyes locked on the instructor? What am I talking about? We all know that our day-to-day lives have changed with the increasing use of and dependence upon technology. And we have acknowledged that things can get lost when we take on this relentless relationship with our smartphone, computer and GPS. These amazing tools provide instant connection and information, and at the same time, they are distractions from the voice within… a sense of peace… or of Presence.

So before the added energy of the holidays take hold, let us take a minute and consider…the pause.

In fact, take a pause right now as you’re reading this November Glimmer.

Come on….no one’s looking….big breath in….let it out slowly….pause.

To pause, to linger, to tarry – do we even use those words anymore? Aren’t they lovely? Instead of seeing myself match steps with the dance teacher and avoiding the moving bodies around me, I imagine a quiet lane through a park or sleepy town. I experience myself meandering, (another lovely word) and taking in the sights and sounds as they appear. Big breath in…let it out slowly….

When I give myself permission to pause, I honor my inner world. When I choose to slow down and listen to the music from within, I am introduced to new dance steps that seem more organic, more me. Let us raise a glass to the holy pause. Let us embrace JRR Tolkien’s line “not all those who wander are lost,” as we take a big breath in…let it out slowly…

The dance between technology and a reflective life? My husband and I have discovered the pause button on our TV remote. We just do it! This simple act allows us to place one another as a higher priority than images on a screen. May we all learn to do that for ourselves, to pause and to welcome Mystery into our lives.

Thinking of you this day with love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

I find I am falling under the yearly spell of falling leaves. Do you know what I mean?

Do you feel a shift as summer turns to fall? We are, indeed, part of creation and, if we wish, can tune into the seasons and let them teach us. Year after year, autumn arrives and reminds us of “letting go” as the leaves change color and tumble down.

Unfortunately, its far easier to say “letting go”, than actually do it. In fact, I find the leaf imagery a little misleading. I mean, they’ve been around for only a year! And the leaf is holding onto the tree by such a little stem! What about feelings we’ve held onto for a decade? Or longer? What about the fears that have become part of our identity or the way we look at the world? How do we move beyond such fundamental places inside of ourselves, even if they’ve become self-rejecting beliefs or outright lies?

Lately, I’ve been paying attention to pieces of bark I’ve found on the ground. A tree sheds its bark because its literally growing out of its skin. For me, this is a more apt image of the difficult transitions in life…as we evolve, our old layers of protection are no longer needed. We “shed” attitudes, behaviors or beliefs and sometimes are left with an open place, almost a wound, as new bark or new wisdom grows back in its place.

My pondering has reminded me of a story from long ago. Do you remember “The Velveteen Rabbit” by Margery Williams? It tells the tale of a little boy’s toy and it’s desire to be loved. When the soft velveteen rabbit feels displaced by the newer, more exciting toys, he turn to the wisest toy in the nursery, the Skin Horse, who explains that love from the boy is indeed a great gift. Love, he tells the rabbit, is how you become Real. The idea of becoming Real captures the rabbit’s imagination and he asks more questions:  “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

Love is how you become Real. Love softens hard edges, eases fears, and transforms hurting hearts. A friend of mine says, “It’s an inside job,” because when we welcome Love into ourselves the transformation can occur. As created beings, we too are invited to grow from within and shed the layers that no longer fit.

Our journey toward Realness isn’t easy and may never be complete, but it is always sacred. It cannot be simplified by a phrase, instead it is lived into, trusted. Love is both the path and the sustenance for such a journey.

I send each of you blessings on your time of shedding.

With love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

“Light, dark, light, dark…..light……dark, light, dark…..light….”

This was one of the favorite games we played with our young sons on road trips. Perhaps you’ve played it too? We traveled along in the car, surrounded by trees, the sunshine coming through the leaves and creating a pattern of light and dark on the grey road. Because of our continuous movement through the pattern, we experienced the transition almost as a staccato of shadows.

“Dark, light, dark….dark…..dark, light, dark, light….”

I remember the fun of trying to keep up with the pattern as it flew by. I remember the trust this game cultivated for me, I could rely on light or dark to fill my senses. Sometimes in a flash, sometimes for extended periods of time. I could rely on the trees and the sunshine to play with us, even if it was just a ride to the store.

Recently, my husband left for work and said, “Enjoy the ride,” as I prepared for the morning commute. Long ago, we learned that “the ride” on our motorcycle was far more important than the destination. When our awareness is on the ride, we smell the orchards we’re driving through, feel the coolness of a nearby lake, and lean together as the curve invites us to the left and then to the right.

As September appears in our view, its easy to complain about summer going by too fast. Its easy to focus on the “end” of summer or the next event – school, fall foliage, Hallowe’en. If our attention is on the next thing, however, we can forget to enjoy the ride. Perhaps what caught my interest in our “light, dark, light” game was the requirement to stay in the present moment. I had to pay attention to each shift of brightness and shadow to name it.

Lately, I’ve been paying attention to some darkness in my life. Some old memories that were hidden away under the demands of everyday life and years of growing older. Into my growing awareness, I brought my trust that light always follows dark. With focused attention, I engaged my capacity to stay in the present moment. I stayed with the memories allowing them to teach me and to release me from patterns and beliefs that are no longer life-giving.

Our capacity to see and name the darkness is just as important as reaching out and dwelling in the light. Our willingness to move between the two, teaches us how to lean into the curves and keep our balance. As the new season brings shorter days, let us call out the shifts that we see along the way. Let us trust the ride, and each other, as we embrace both the dark and the light of our lives, as one.

With love along the way,
Lisa