Gingko Trees in the Fall: Thursday's Reflection

NOTE: I am going to take a short break--a fall break--from posting. I will return on Tuesday, November 12.


"Today is the day," announced my husband.

A few days before he had learned that gingko trees all drop their leaves at the same time--all their leaves--and as I drove through the neighborhood to meet a friend, I discovered that seemed to be true. 

The leaves on some of the gingko trees were yellow-gold and others were still summer green. That made no difference. The gingko trees were blithely letting go of all their leaves, and cars and streets were covered in piles of shed leaves. 








Now you know I love a metaphor, and this one is obvious, but too good to pass up. 

I wonder what leaves I need to shed. Why shouldn't today be the day?
What collection of past hurts and slights need to go?
What painful memories need to be transformed into a new season?
What illusions and denials need to float away?
What attachments need to disconnect?
What would happen if my branches were allowed to breathe and open to the sun? 
What would be possible if I graciously and gracefully created space in my life for new growth? 
What stories have been told over and over again without new understanding? How would it feel to write a new story? 


How odd it would be to see a gingko tree in the Minnesota winter still holding onto all its leaves. Wouldn't we wonder what was wrong with that tree? Well, I need to ask myself that same question. Here you are, Nancy, 70 plus years, in the autumn of your life, how are you preparing for your life's winter?

I would like these years to feel lighter. 
I would like more emotional and spiritual space in which my essence can thrive. 
I would like to be the tree I was created to be. 

I think that means letting go of the leaves that no longer serve me or those who love me; the leaves that weigh me down, instead of giving me life. 

So, why not let today be the day. 

To close, here is an unpublished poem by visual artist Janet Higgins, who is in my writing group. You can often see her work at Highpoint Center for Printmaking. Thanks,Janet, for allowing me to share this poem. 

      Time -- like a River --
      Freezes, Cracks and Falls
      Around my head....
      Scattering illusions and
      Whispering secrets from a
      Time almost forgotten --
      Re-member the path to
      The Garden...
                         

An Invitation
Is today the day for you? I would love to know. 

Highpoint Center for Printmaking

Sidewalk Poetry:Thursday's Reflection

         

                                       

                               I don't know enough

                               about balance to tell you

                               how to do it

                               I think, though

                               it's in the trying

                               and the letting go

                               that the scales measuring

                               right and wrong --quiver

                               and stand still

                                                    Georgia A. Greely

My morning walks nurture me in many ways. I awaken to beauty and take care of my body. I allow ideas and new perspectives to flow through me, and sometimes I even solve a nagging problem. I observe and appreciate the ways people take care of their homes, and when I notice a home that looks neglected, I wonder about the story behind the front door.

And sometimes I read poetry, thanks to the over 1000 poems stamped on St Paul sidewalks. (Sidewalk poetry) Many of which are in our neighborhood. Most recently, I noticed the one pictured above on the sidewalk outside of the dry cleaners at the corner of St Clair and  Cleveland. Had I not spotted this one before? Had I walked right over the words and not received their gift? Probably.

"Perhaps I need these words now," I said to myself, as I paid a bit more attention to the way I was walking, making sure I didn't lose my balance. 

Balance is one of the issues older people hear a lot about. We are encouraged to do certain exercises to maintain our balance and prevent falls. But here is another perspective--the encouragement to let go, or at least try, in order to balance the quivering scales. How hard it is to maintain balance when we hold on to weighty stuff from the past--regrets, sadness and loss, the betrayals, hurts, and disappointments. 

Of course, letting go is not easy, and I think being balanced is an elusive goal, but trying is key to our ongoing growth. 

During my morning meditation right now I am reading Living an Examined Life, Wisdom for the Second Half of the Journey by James Hollis, PhD, and on the same day I encountered the poem about balance I read this:

          Just as we periodically clean the house, go through

          old clothes and fashions and discard the no longer

          germane, so we have to go through our accumulated

          histories, our driving attitudes, reflexes, and responses,

          and discard what is no longer useful, productive, 

          relevant, or serving growth.

When we let go of those burdens, we can stand straighter, taller and be more balanced in body, mind, and spirit. 

An Invitation

How balanced are you?  I would love to know.  

A Gentle Reminder and Open Invitation

On Tuesday, June 5 from 7-9:30 I will participate in a reading, along with other members of Authors' Circle. We will be reading from works in progress, and you are invited. The free event will be held at 2615 Park Avenue South, Minneapolis, MN.  https://www.facebook.com/events/416831295437677/permalink/428351497618990/

                                

Letting Go: Tuesday's Reflection

Saturday I attended a retreat at Wisdom Ways facilitated by the gifted teacher/writer Karen Hering. How perfect, I thought, to attend a retreat on Epiphany--a day of gifts from wise beings. 

Karen led us through a breathing exercise to simulate how the body feels when it stops clutching and is able to let go. We each know what it means to hold on to something when it no longer serves the person we were created to be, but still we cling to the emotion, the thought, the belief, the habit, the person, the job, the possession. 

As we inhaled we closed our palms tightly into a fist, and then after holding our breath, feeling that tenseness, we exhaled through our mouths. Loudly. And as we exhaled, we opened our palms. 

Such a good feeling. 

During writing time, we each made a list of everything in our life we need to discard.  I've done that before and no doubt you have too. Maybe not formally, but in your head when you snarl to yourself and say, "I wish I wasn't so...." or "Why do I always ...." or when you open an overfilled drawer or closet and admonish yourself to do something about that soon. 

I didn't have trouble making my own list, a boring, often repeated one.

What felt different this time was the next part of the writing prompt. Complete the phrase "letting go now... ." Here's what I wrote:

Letting go now
        I have more space.
        I create spaciousness for all I was created to be, for my own essence.
        I am able to move forward lightly, but at the same time deeply,
honoring myself and being present to the fullness of my life.
        I am lighter.
        I am able to be more present to the movement of God within and around me.
        I feel hope. I feel gratitude. I feel joy.
        I feel possibility. I feel contentment.
        I am able to listen to each Sacred Yes, but also each Sacred No as they appear in my life. 

Trust me, I have not done the complete work of letting go--I cling to far too much--but this exercise helped me envision how letting go feels and for a moment I was in that spaciousness. It is worth moving towards that reality. 

May this new year be one of discovering what is means to let go now. 

An Invitation
What's on your Letting Go list? How would you complete the phrase, letting go now....? I would love to know.                

Shoes and Other Mistakes: Tuesday's Reflection'

I bought these shoes impulsively. Did I need them? NO! In fact, I have a bag of shoes and other no longer wanted clothing in my closet, which I plan to take to Goodwill.

I didn't have an outfit in my mind when I bought these shoes, but I was attracted to the bright colors and just generally, to their fun look.

These shoes have sat in my closet unworn for a couple months now. I did think about wearing them recently and even put them on. I quickly took them off. They didn't fit right. They didn't look right. In fact, they looked like me ten years or so ago. 

These shoes were a mistake. 

Do you know the feeling? Have you ordered dessert at a restaurant when you are already more than full? Have you sat through a movie or continued reading a book when clearly you didn't like it? 

Have you painted a room and before the brushes were clean, you knew it was the wrong color or have you said to the hairdresser "I want it SHORT," and only when it was too late, did you realize her idea of "short" was not your idea of "short"? Well, it's only paint. It's only hair. 

Correctable mistakes. Just like my shoes. 

I won't waste time agonizing over these shoes, but I admit I do think occasionally about past mistakes I have made in my life. Bigger mistakes. Sins of commission. Sins of omission. 

Some of these mistakes require apologies or acknowledgements. Some of them may need a ritual in order to relegate them soundly to the past. Some of them may need further reflection. Why is it I can't let go of this? How has this mistake influenced my life? What can I learn from this mistake that will enhance my life now? 

I've learned that what plagues me is not the mistake itself, but the way I obsess about the mistake. Sometimes reflection turns into haunting or torment. 

Here's what Hugh Prather says in his The Little Book of Letting Go, a book I often recommend to my spiritual directees. 

             We all nurture and exercise our misery with 
             countless little thoughts throughout the day. Yet, 
             all we need is to be aware of how and when we
             do this, and the door to freedom swings open.

He recommends we adopt the following affirmation:

             I will practice noticing just this much today: I alone
             choose what ruins my attitude and complicates my
             life. I live with the decisions I make about everything
             and everyone around me. I move among these decisions.
             ... An overcast day is nothing more than an overcast day 
             until I decide what it withholds from me personally and
            pick what mood it must inflict...I see what I decide 
            and react as I choose.

Out with the shoes. 

An Invitation
What mistakes dominate your thinking and actions? What are you willing to do to let go of those mistakes? 



           

Letting Go, Part 2: Tuesday's Reflection

Intending to Let Go

In response to my Thursday, October 19 post, a dear friend emailed to say she has been letting go of a "lifelong pattern of holding too tightly," and she now considers this to be her "lightness of being" stage of life. I love that phrase, and I honor my friend for recognizing what needed to change in her life, in order to live more fully and authentically. 

My friend had a number of trigger events in her life that made her aware of the need to shift, but awareness does not always make it so. 

Along with learning to "quiet your mind," which I suggested in the previous post, often a necessary step to cultivating lightness of being is to practice forgiveness of yourself, others, and even God. Forgiveness, too, is a process, but what I have felt in myself is how powerful even the intention to forgive can be. The intention becomes the beginning, the first step. 

Forgiveness brings clarity. It's easier to see what you need and how to go about achieving that, especially if you let go of blaming others for your problems. 

Along with practicing forgiveness, consider asking for help. From a therapist, a spiritual director, a trusted friend. You need not be alone in this process. Each issue has its own story and its own wisdom to reveal. We have the choice every moment of our lives to learn from our experiences and to use those learnings to create peace and love in the world. 

Finally, give back to others. Giving back is not just a way to distract us from our own challenges, but is a way to live as our very best selves. 

An Exercise for Letting Go
Sit on the edge of your bed, spreading your arms wide open,  closing your eyes, and imagining you are surrendering to whatever the Divine has in store for you. Assume God is there to catch you, just as sure as the bed supports you. 

Now actually lean back slowly until you are resting on the bed. As you lean back, let your fear and helplessness go. Trust that you will be held. 

Then lie on your back with your arms wide open, feeling the bed supporting you. 

Whenever you feel anxious during the day, take a few minutes to imagine yourself leaning on the bed. 
Adapted from The Seeker's Guide, Making Your Life A Spiritual Adventure by Elizabeth Lesser

An Invitation
Do you really want to let go or do you just say you want to? I would love to know. 

Letting Go, Part One: Thursday's Reflection

Have anyone ever said to you, "You just have to let go." Or have you said that to someone? We might add with a shrug of the shoulders, "I know that is easier said than done." 

I love this quote from Beatrice Brute in Radical Optimism.

        I think most of the spiritual life is 

        really a matter of relaxing--letting 
        go, ceasing to cling, ceasing to
        insist on our own way, ceasing to 
        tense ourselves up for this or 
        against that. 

Ok, so we can agree--letting go is important. Letting go is a spiritual challenge, but HOW do we let go?

Here is my basic belief about the practice of letting go. 

First, you have to line yourself up with reality. You have to accept where you are and trust that even in the midst of your confusion and pain there is wisdom to be gained. You can use what you have been handed for the kind of inner growth that will make your life happier and more meaningful. 

The first step in the letting go process--and it is a process--is to quiet the mind. A still mind sees what is here. A busy mind sees what is not here. 

Our lives are filled with useless battles because our minds are filled with useless thoughts. We carry around unhappy scenes from the past as if they are still happening. We chew on the memory of what we did or did not do. Problems assault us to the degree they preoccupy us. The key to inner freedom is not the elimination of all external difficulties, but the willingness and intention to change a pattern of thinking, of reacting to what distresses us. 

Here's a promise to make to yourself: 

                Every time, and I do mean every time, a thought 

                of anger or anxiety comes to the surface, I will take a 

                cleansing breath and imagine my mind as a calm 

                pool of water. 

                The next time I notice myself being caught in a 

                line of thought I know is destructive, I will interrupt 

                it. I simply won't complete it. Instead, I will think of

                something, anything that contains love or connection. 

Sometimes all that is needed is a shift in focus.

If quieting your mind is challenging for you, try using the "Be still and know that I am God," prayer. 

           Be still and know that I am God.

           Be still and know that I am.

           Be still and know.

           Be still.

           Be.

           Be still.

           Be still and know.

           Be still and know that I am. 

           Be still and know that I am God.

An Invitation

What has been lingering in your heart for far too long? Are you willing to let go? I would love to know. 

NOTE: Because the topic of "letting go" is such a big one, I will continue the conversation in my next post on Tuesday, October 25. Stay Tuned!

Also, two books have given me great help as I integrate this topic into my own life. The Little Book of Letting Go by Hugh Prather and The Seeker's Guide, Making Your Life a Spiritual Adventure by Elizabeth Lesser. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Preparing for a Garage Sale

This weekend we are having our second garage sale since moving here, and it won't be the last. After over 40 years of happy antiquing, we are letting go of our treasures, but not of our memories. 

Antiquing has been our hobby. Some people play golf or tennis or have a boat or sew or paint, but what we have loved doing together almost from the beginning of our marriage is searching for treasure. We have loved exploring small towns and urban neighborhoods all in pursuit of pottery bowls and green depression glass and one more vintage tablecloth, oh, and something for the garden that will look just right next to the roses. We have eaten burgers and fries at small town drive-ins and oohed and aahed at valleys flowing into the next county or a farmhouse where we know we could be happy if we lived a different life. We have gotten up early on cold Saturday mornings in order to pass through the gates of a outdoor antique market before someone else buys just what we always wanted, but didn't know that till we saw it! We have taken home bits and pieces of those places--those lives--over the years and created our own version of home. 

Such wonderful memories I have, as well, of antiquing with friends who have shared the same passion. Friendships were deepened as we talked in the car or walked aisles of an antique mall. When a  long time friend and I invited my sister and daughter to join us as "Girls on Safari," awarding prizes for the first purchase of the day or to the person who got the best bargain, we enjoyed times of play and silliness. 

Letting Go
But now, as Joan Chittister http://www.benetvision.org in her book The Gift of Years, Growing Older Gracefully says, "The time for heaping up is over." (p. 90)
She also says, 
         
         Life, it seems, follows a relentless cycle: in our early
         years we accumulate, but in our later years we divest.
         Both of them have a place in life. Both of them are a
         struggle. Both of them are liberating. p. 89

The struggles in those years of accumulating were in the form of working long hours and of balancing family time with couple time and individual time and in making decisions about how we wanted to live and where and making that happen. At the same time growing our family and ourselves brought so much joy and love into our lives. How lucky we have been.

Now the struggle comes in the process of divesting. I hasten to add that my husband has been taking the lead with the garage sales, doing the vast majority of the work, and I am grateful. This is just one step along the way of lightening the load, however. Earlier I became the Queen of Craigslist and 1-800-Got Junk, and we have both made countless trips to Goodwill. We have gathered in over time, and it will take more time to disperse the booty, but we are on our way.

An Example from the Past
Many years ago, when our children were young, we were invited to a 4th of July party given by an older colleague of my husband's, another doc. They had lived in a grand, old home near one of the lakes in Minneapolis, but recently they had sold that home and built a much smaller and far more contemporary styled home on the back of their original lot. The home was stunning, and we were intrigued by what they had done. It was clear they were thrilled with their accomplishment. They had lightened their load and you could see it not only in the sparse furnishings, but also in the way they talked about their lives as being freer and less constrained, even though they were living in far less space. I admired them. I even recognized the wisdom of what they had done, but I wasn't at that stage yet myself. 

We have a long way to go before our load is that light, but we are making progress, and I hope the upcoming garage sale will bring us closer to the goal. I know I still love beautiful and interesting things and am not ready to let go of everything, but I am surprised as Bruce opens yet another bin how easy it is to say, "Yup, sell it all." I have no regrets about our acquisition process, although I wish this part of the process would be easier. That being said, even a garage sale brings unexpected pleasures, along with empty bins--meeting our neighbors and seeing two young boys' delight when they bought an ice cream maker or a young woman who bought a quilt because it reminds her of her grandmother. They are in another part of the life cycle, and that's the way it should be. 

The Reason for This Process
As I lighten the load, however, I need to keep asking myself, "What am I creating room for? What is important about clearing the space?" Yes, it will be helpful to my children if there is less stuff when the time comes to sell this house for whatever reason, and I know I don't want to spend as much time cleaning and arranging and hometending, and I would rather spend time doing other things, writing and reading and being with family and friends. Once again Chittister offers words of wisdom, 
          
          Little by little we begin to strip down a layer at a time…
          And little by little we become less of our outer image 
          and more of our inner selves." (p. 92) 

This is a time of spiritual acquisition--of deepening our relationship to God, in whatever way we define and name the sacred and the holy, as the people we were created. That is the true goal. 

An Invitation
Have you started this divesting process and if so, how is it going for you? What are you learning about yourself as you do this? I would love to know. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Dumpster in the Driveway

We are now at the "Dumpster in the Driveway" stage at my father's house. For weeks we have been emptying closets and cupboards and sorting and piling and delivering load after load to Goodwill and the Women's Assistance League resale shop, which my sister manages as a volunteer. We have listed and sold many pieces of furniture on Craigslist (Anyone want a pristine dining room set or couch?) We have waded through boxes of newspaper clippings and photographs--the stuff of a lifetime--and stacks of cupless saucers and decorations for every holiday of the year. On and on and on.

And now it is dumpster time.

Surprise!
Unknown to all of us, underneath the carpet in every room of the house, except the kitchen and bathrooms, there are untouched hardwood floors. My parents bought the house new in 1965, and before we moved in, had the whole house carpeted. That was the style then. Over the years the carpet has been replaced, and the floors were protected in their original state--just what buyers today want.

Thus, the dumpster, which is now loaded with old carpet, along with bags and boxes of miscellaneous items I would rather not recount or remember. For years my brother has joked that when the time came, he would "just get a dumpster." Well, as he and the rest of us have done the dirty work, it's not so funny or easy!

A Spiritual Dumpster
With each trip to that dumpster in the driveway, the house has seemed lighter, and it has occurred to me how amazing it would be if we could rid ourselves of old, unhealthy patterns, hurts and regrets by tossing them into the dumpster.  How much lighter I would feel and be if I tossed the worries and cares and preoccupations into my own personal dumpster. 

I envision filling my own personal dumpster with those hurts and fears, big and small. I know it takes many trips back and forth and lots of digging and letting go before what is no longer needed or usable can be hauled away. As I meditate and pray and reflect, intentionally tossing aside all that prevents me from being the person I was created to be, the harder it is to recall specifically what's buried in those piles. It no longer matters. The hard and dirty and exhausting work will have been done. Work worth doing.

Another Image of Letting Go
Years ago at a retreat I led a woman provided the group with her image for releasing the thoughts and burdens along with the minor irritations, that plagued her from time to time. She imagined herself unplugging, pulling a cord from a socket, cutting off the power source from what was draining her energy. She acknowledged that sometimes the unplugged thought, worry, or  expectation --the buzzing in her ears-- replugged itself into the source, and she would need to jerk it out again. Eventually, however, there simply wasn't enough wattage to keep the old thought alive. 

Along the way, of course, there are light moments, including picnics in the living room where no one was ever allowed to eat. In fact, we only gathered in there as a family a couple times a year--Christmas Day and Easter and the occasional graduation or wedding party. We have laughed and told lots of stories and then we have resumed the work of filling the dumpster.

An Invitation
What needs to go into the dumpster in your driveway or what needs to lose power in your life? Close your eyes and imagine yourself throwing whatever needs to be forgotten or resolved into a dumpster or envision yourself pulling the plug on whatever prevents you from moving forward. You can do it. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Surprise!

I am not someone who relishes surprises, and I happen to be married to someone who not only loves to surprise, but is expert at planning them. For example, for my 40th birthday he planned an elegant surprise luncheon with my lovely women friends as guests. More recently, he flew in my dear friend from Ohio for a surprise birthday weekend at a luxurious spa. What could have been more generous and loving. However, there was also the time very long ago when the kids were young, and I was working full-time in a demanding job, and all I wanted for my birthday was a quiet evening reading in bed. All of a sudden friends were in our bedroom shouting "Surprise!" I faked my delight. 

I understand my discomfort with surprises has to do with loss of control, but I also know how much I love the anticipation and even the preparation, leading to something special.

A Surprising Question
Therefore, I was surprised, yes surprised, when during retreat time at the beginning of 2013, one of the questions that arose during my quiet time was, "Will it be a year when I surprise myself?"

It is one thing for someone to surprise you, whether it is with a totally unexpected gift or perhaps a response you would not have anticipated, but quite another when you surprise yourself. 

The Surprise of Letting Go
Now that 2014 has arrived, I have been thinking about this question and yes, 2013 was a year when I surprised myself. The first surprise that comes to mind, of course, is related to our move to St Paul. One of the tasks we have had to do because we are drastically (and willingly, even eagerly) downsizing is sell or dispose of large pieces of furniture. Antiques we have loved and used in a variety of ways. The one I most dreaded parting with was our harvest table bought for our 1802 farmhouse. In our Middleton house it did not fit in the dining room, but instead became my desk in my large lower level office. I loved spreading out my work on that desk, books and papers and laptop, a candle and other treasures, and while I worked, I could recall memories of Thanksgiving dinner at that table or gatherings of my women's spirituality group or easy meals at one end for just my husband and myself. We had added our own patina to that simple farmhouse table, and I thought parting with it would be wrenching.

Reluctantly, I listed it on Craigslist, along with many other items, and surprise, it was the first item to sell. A bigger surprise to me was that I had no trouble letting go of the table or any of the other things I had loved and enjoyed over the years. It was more than recognizing that it was only "stuff," I was letting go of, but it was recognizing that in order to move on, I needed to shed layers of our material life.  In our case, a lot of things!!!! And that process will continue for a long time, in order to live more simply and sparer in a much smaller home. 

The desire to move forward, to be where we want to be, to focus more on the people in our lives, rather than taking care of possessions, and in my case, to create spaciousness for writing and other growth-giving, life-sharing endeavors, is stronger than clinging to the "stuff," and then mourning its passing. I hasten to add that I loved the process of gathering and have great memories of wandering country roads in search of antique shops, and then finding just the right spot for the acquired treasure. I hope our home will always be a place of beauty and comfort and now in this new little house, I once again am happily home tending, creating our nest. 

At the same time, I surprised myself with my ease of letting go. Of course,  I realize letting go of stuff is not anything like letting go of people whom I love or as time goes on of my own abilities or capabilities or vision of myself, but now is the time to learn the skill of letting go.  

Words of Wisdom
Here's what Joan Chittister http://www.benetvision.org/vitaJoan.html says in The Gift of Years, Growing Older Gracefully as she describes this stage of life being one in which we "travel light."
     When I look around the crowded room and wonder why I
     am keeping the large desk when a smaller one would do 
     just as well, something inside of me is beginning to change.
     When three sets of dishes are two sets too many, I have
     begun to need more than just things. When the house is
     too crowded and the car is too big and the perfect lawn
     too much of a bother, I have begun a whole new adventure
     in life…It is the shaping of the soul that occupies us now.
     Now, consciously or, more likely, not, we set out to find 
     out for ourselves who we really are, what we know, what
     we care about and how to be simply enough for ourselves
     in the world.

She adds:
     A burden of these years is the temptation to cling to the 
     times and things behind us rather than move to the 
     liberating moments ahead.

     A blessing of these years is the invitation to go light-
     footed into the here and now--because we spend far too
     much of life preparing for the future rather than enjoying
     the present.

An Invitation
How do you respond to surprises and what has surprised you about yourself recently? How are you challenged by the idea and process of letting go? What are the fruits of letting go for you? I am eager to know.  
        

The Biggest Changes are Within, a Post by Nancy L. Agneberg

Meet my father. This picture was taken in his home the day he came home from rehab following back surgery. Looks pretty good for almost 90, doesn't he? His physicians, nurses, physical therapists, and other health care providers were all astounded at his age and said they guessed he was much younger. Of course, he is delighted with those compliments, but still, he knows that living alone in his large home is no longer the best option for him. He has made the decision to move into a new senior living complex in the fall, and while this will be a major change for him, he is expressing eagerness and even excitement about the move. Ever since my mother died 10 years ago he has stated firmly that he wanted to stay in the house, so I wondered if he might have second thoughts the day after making the deposit for his new apartment.  He assured me that was not the case and furthermore, he said, "I will not make this hard on you." 
     Amazing! Believe me, I know how fortunate I am to have an elderly parent who is undemanding and also willing and able to make good decisions for his own health and wellbeing. I know of too many cases where that is clearly not the case. True, there may be days ahead of negotiating, but his outlook is positive, and he is open to this next stage of his life.  
     The thing is that not only is this the next stage of HIS life; it is also the next stage of MY life, and I need to be at least as open to change as he is. As I think about the last few weeks, I am aware of so many moments of learning and flashes of insight. I will share three:
1.   Do the next thing. There were moments when I felt overwhelmed and remembered why I chose teaching as a profession and not nursing, but a friend told me I could do anything. She reminded me I am the woman who wrestled a sheep in the ditch, after all! When we lived at Sweetwater Farm, we had three sheep, Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, and one of them escaped from the barn one morning after Bruce had gone to work. I heard cars honking on the road in front of the house and what option did I have but to go charging after it? Amazingly, I tackled it to the ground and then wondered what to do! A passing motorist took pity on us and helped me restore Blynken to its proper place, and all was well. Blynken was safe, and I had a great story. So yes, I am the woman who wrestled a sheep in the ditch, but I can't do everything. What I realized, however, is that I can do the next thing. These past weeks I did whatever the next thing was and then the next thing and the next. The feeling of being overwhelmed lessened as I reminded myself to focus on the next step. 
2. Grow bigger and deeper. I have said for years that as I get older I want to expand my world. I want my world to get bigger, instead of smaller. Even as I have said that, however, I have been aware that in many ways one's world actually gets smaller with age--friends and family die, one's ability to be out in the world or to experience the world lessens due to health or financial issues, and even one's physical space, moving from home to apartment to nursing home, gets smaller and smaller. A friend commented recently that his father in-law's world has gotten smaller and smaller, and I suspect in his observation was a desire not to let that happen to himself and perhaps an unconscious fear that it will. I know people who are squeezing as much travel time into their lives right now, for example, because they know at some point travel will not be as easy a proposition. For many retirement represents a loss of interaction in the world, and there can be a feeling of diminishment and lack of purpose. 
     Still, I feel a commitment to the idea of an expanding world even into the late years. What I realize is that my definition of "world" is changing. Where I sense the expansion can come is in my inner world, my spiritual world, my knowledge of my essence, my True Self, my acquaintance with the God within and without. There are not limits to that kind of growth.
     "A door opens in the center of our being and we seem to fall though it into immense depths, which although they are infinite--are still accessible to us All eternity seems to have become ours in this one placid and breathless contact."  Kathleen Dowling Singh in The Grace in Dying, p. 15. 
     My father is a model for me in his dedication to his spiritual practice of reading scripture and other devotions, including studying a section of Luther's Large Catechism every day. He may not be doing all the things that previously gave him pleasure and stimulated his intellectual growth, but his spirit is getting bigger and bigger. 
3.   Let go and live. When it was time to say goodbye to Dad before they took him in for surgery, I was aware that this could be the last time I would see my father alive. Given his age and his past history of heart issues, surgery was a risky proposition. I thought about all the other times I have said goodbye to him or other loved ones, in most cases fully expecting that a hello would follow soon. This time the outcome seemed good, but was not a sure thing. I told him I loved him, said goodbye, and let go. 
     Letting go of hurts, of disappointments, of expectations, of hopes and dreams, of fears, of possibilities, of plans and routines, of viewpoints, of worries, of control is no small task, but it is one we are asked to do every day of our lives in some way. Each time we let go of our grasp on whatever binds us, we practice dying just a bit. We move towards an acceptance of our own physical death. With that understanding comes freedom, I think, to live in a way that can be transformative. A life full of the fruits of the Spirit--"love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness, and self-control." Galatians 5:22. A life that provides evidence of an ongoing encounter with God. 
     
     Everyday it seems I discover opportunities to relearn the lessons that offered themselves so clearly these last weeks with my father. Do the next thing. Grow bigger and deeper. Let go and live. I welcome hearing how these lessons are alive in your own life.   
      
     

A Change in the Season and A Change of Attitude, A Post by Nancy L. Agneberg

Sometimes I shock myself--and not in a good way. I am stunned and embarrassed by how attached I can be to my view of how things should be and how I want them to be. Having our house on the market has certainly revealed that tendency. This past weekend a home just down the block from us came on the market at a price far below the assessed value. I obsessed and fretted about how that will affect the potential sale of our home. I tried to lift compassion towards the owners, knowing there must be a logical and perhaps difficult reason for their decision, but frankly, I was wrapped up in my own plans and hoped for outcomes. As I said, I am embarrassed. 
     I mentioned the new development to my exercise buddies Monday morning, saying, "It's done," meaning that our chances of selling our house have greatly diminished, but the minute I said that I realized I actually meant something quite different. I should have said, "I'm done. I surrender."
     Sara Davidson in Leap! What Will We Do With the Rest of Our Lives? says that giving up is being defeated, but surrender is an "expansive state, something active and pulsing...You open yourself to the unknown." As I said "It's done," I felt a physical response. I could feel myself expanding and opening. I relaxed and released, as Michael Singer encourages over and over in Untethered Soul, The Journey Beyond Yourself. 
     I have not given up. I will continue to welcome showings whenever they are requested, but I am not waiting for them nor anticipating them. If the house sells this spring, I will be delighted and will take a deep breath and shift gears into packing mode, but I am not counting on it and instead will be surprised and pleased. No, I don't feel defeated, but rather, I surrender, and amazingly, the fruits of surrendering appeared in my life almost immediately. 
     I am swelling with ideas for the writing projects I have started and increased interest and energy for working on those projects. I have an idea about a group I would like to start and am swirling with thoughts about developing that. I wake up in the middle of the night wondering if it is time to get up so I can return to my desk. I feel like popcorn exploding, and I am exhilarated gathering the ideas as they burst forth. At the same time I am relaxing my tight hold on the house and my vision of a constant "showing ready" state. It is all good. 
    Of course, surrender is a process, and I realize there will be setbacks. My challenge will be to let go of the thought that these past months have been a waste of time. I don't like wasting time, and it will be hard for me to reframe these months into a time of inner growth and greater insight into my spiritual being. Once again I turn to my well-worn copy of The Little Book of Letting Go by Hugh Prather (What? You don't have this book? Locate it immediately!) and read this statement, one I have read and reflected on many times, "By letting go of our desire to dominate outcomes, we don't sacrifice anything real, but we do open our heart and mind to the experience of wholeness." 
     We are in the midst of both Passover and Holy Week. Passover is a time to express gratitude for movement towards freedom, and Holy Week leads from Christ on the cross conceding "It is finished," to resurrection and new life. Yes!

What is hovering within you waiting to be surrendered? And what new thoughts and ideas and attitudes are poised to be born through you?