Recent days have felt more like a transition from August to September than July to August. Something in the air. A tired, worn out green on some of the trees. My pots of basil begging for harvesting. And, of course, school supplies taking over a big section in Target.
I know the temperatures are climbing back up to high 80's here in St Paul this week, but still, the sand in the summer hourglass is flowing from top to bottom faster than a couple weeks ago.
We are in the midst of a seasonal transition.
But isn't that always the case? Aren't we always moving closer to the next season?
And isn't that the case in our lives as well? Aren't we always in some kind of transition?
We tend to think of the big transitions in our lives. Moving from one house or city or state to another. Saying goodbye to colleagues at one job and getting to know others as you start a new job. Or ending our work lives and thinking about what retirement might offer.
Some transitions are less obvious. Healing physically or emotionally, for example. One day at a time you may notice you have a bit more energy or experience less pain or sense of loss. The change may not be--probably won't be--in even increments and there may be set backs, but something is happening.
We open and shut doors and cross the threshold from one room to another. We end one activity and start another many times a day. We greet someone and then say goodbye as we make our daily rounds of grocery shopping or exercising or carpooling. We turn the page of a book or newspaper or scroll down through emails or Facebook posts.
Julia Cameron says in her book Transitions, Prayers and Declarations for a Changing Life
All life can be expansive in potential. The
choice is ours. As I open my heart to accept
change, my heart softens and grows larger.
Every experience carries the seed of
transformation. Every event can bring blossoming
and wealth. My personal will can resist change
or embrace it. The choice is mine and determines
the life I will have. p. 3
It is in the in-between time, however brief, however tiny the transition is, that we learn how to be present. We learn how to be in the fullness, the wholeness of our lives.
An Invitation
In what ways are you in transition now? I would love to know.
BONUS: Here's an antidote to the article I mentioned in my post on Thursday, July 26th. Signs of hope. Read it here.
I admit I have felt a bit cranky lately. For one thing I have a cold that has depleted my energy. For another thing the house is a mess in part because I have no energy to clean, but our sweet granddog, Ralph, is staying with us for a few days and he may have an excellent disposition, but he also has long white hair and you know what that means!
And then, of course, there is the ongoing agitation I feel as there are more reasons to resist and to persist in that resistance.
One of the books I have in the stack next to my comfortable chair in the garret is It's Never to Late to Begin Again, Discovering Creativity and Meaning at Midlife and Beyond by Julia Cameron of The Artist's Way fame. In the introduction Cameron writes about making a list of twenty-five things she loves. That list, which included many items describing the Southwest, led to her move from New York to Santa Fe. A clarifying and motivating list, to say the list.
I wasn't looking for such a major insight, but by making my own list I hoped I could lift my spirits. Here's my list --in no particular order, by the way, and please note, this is a list of things, not people or specific places.
1. Books and bookstores
2. Lavender
3. Snow
4. Quiet and solitude (I know this is not a "thing," but it feels tangible to me.)
5. My laptop
6. Fresh Flowers
7. Big water
8. Hawks
9. Live theatre
10. Old houses
11. Country roads
12. My mother's pearls
13. Diet Coke
14. Shawls
15. PBS/NPR
16. Labyrinths
17. A chaise or comfortable chair with
an ottoman
18. A good pen
19. A new journal
20. Sidewalks
21. White blouses
22. Vintage handkerchiefs
23. Our son's landscape paintings
24. My desk
25. My bicycle
Maybe soon I will add another twenty-five items to this list, but right now, I am feeling ever so much better. I already know, however, what would be my #26: the white lights around my garret window.
An Invitation
What are your twenty-five favorite things? I would love to know.
Resistance Notes
I recommend the following link: Ariana Huffington
I woke full of memories of a long weekend in Chicago with our daughter and grands. Our family tradition is to celebrate 8th birthdays with a trip to Chicago. We had walked miles through the Shedd Aquarium, the Museum of Science and Industry, and the Field Museum. We had the traditional massive sundae at Ghiradelli's and the beyond delicious pizza at Gino's.
Peter, our new 8 year old, had pronounced it all "amazing."
I woke eager for the day. In the morning I would facilitate my monthly contemplative writing and spiritual direction group at church. In the afternoon my writing group would gather in our living room as we do every other week. I had a new chapter to share with the group, and I was eager for their inspiration and insights, but also to hear their current work.
And then, as I drove to church, I heard the news. The news about Brussels. More bombs. More violence. More deaths. More injuries. More uncertainty. More discord. More fear.
What I needed more of was peace.
I do not want the peace which passeth understanding.
I want the understanding which bringeth peace.
Helen Keller
I decided I could continue to hold within the delight I felt about our recent happy family times and the pleasure and awe I feel when I am in the presence of those seeking deeper connections with God and with each other. At the same time I could feel deep sadness about the gap in the world --the gap between peaceful understanding and such limited hate-filled views of living and being in the world.
This morning I sat with these words by Julia Cameron in her book, Blessings, Prayers and Declarations for a Heartful Life.
Distance and diversity are part of me. I bless
my width and depth. All that is foreign and
unfamiliar is yet part of who I am. Mine is the
family of man. My tribe inhabits the earth,
walking in different lands, speaking in
different tongues but living one life as we go
forward. Knowing that I am a part of all life,
I cherish differences. I embrace diversity.
Recognizing that all faces and forms are my own
face and form, I treat myself and others with
dignity. We are brothers. We are sisters. We are
husband and wife, mother and father. We are a
family of many colors and many cloaks. We are
one life. The language of the heart speaks to us
all. I cherish that which my brother cherishes. I
walk in harmony, generosity, and abundance.
I share my gifts from the gifts I share. p. 21-22
I read these words aloud. More than once. I invite you to do the same. Let's read them together.
An Invitation
How do you respond when peace seems invisible? I would love to know.
NOTE: In November I wrote my response to the bombings in Paris here.
I am about to embark on a big adventure, and I must admit I am a bit nervous. Nope, I have not signed up for skydiving or kayaking down the Mississippi. I am not doing yoga on a paddle board as our daughter did this past weekend. I am not walking across the desert--walking in our neighborhood suits me just fine, thank you very much. Nor have I decided to buy a Harley and go on a road trip.
Those of you who know me understand I am not much of a risk taker, especially when it comes to physical feats. I so admire my friend who recently went to Mongolia and stayed in a ger, also known as a yurt, a portable round tent covered with skins, and other women I know who grab zip lines in the jungle or who live and breathe for the next challenging ski run. That is not me.
My big adventure doesn't involve leaving home or wearing special gear or applying for Visas. Preparation and hard, everyday work have been involved, however, and will continue to be necessary, along with the ongoing presence of a guide.
If you have been reading this blog for some time, you know that I am writing a book. This past year I have spent focused time on this project, especially this summer when I have been taking an intense online twelve week class, Your Book Starts Here, Part 2, offered through The Loft. (I took Part One last fall.) A major aspect of each week has been to submit the draft of a chapter from my book to my small group of three other memoir writers for their feedback. At first that was scary, and I felt unsure and vulnerable and sometimes I was ready to turn and run back down the mountain, but I trusted my guide, the most excellent her royal highness Mary Carroll Moore, and opened myself to all the feedback my fellow writers have suggested. I am grateful for their support and camaraderie.
This week we are embarking on the next part of this trip, one that causes me to hold my breath and wonder if I am strong enough for the challenge. Our assignment this week, along with continuing to write and also submitting a chapter to our group as we do every week, is to read our entire manuscript from beginning to end.
I have compiled, organized, and printed every chapter, every piece of unworked free writing into one document of about 71,000 words, 235 double-spaced pages, and it is now sitting on my desk. Waiting for me to take the plunge.
Why is this so scary? Well, what if I hate it? What if I feel I have totally wasted my time? What if I regret spending the four hours or so every day this summer working on this project? And then there is the other side as well. What if I basically feel good about the direction of what I am doing? Do I then have the stamina and the courage and commitment to see this book to its fruition? Will I ever be able to find an agent and if that happens, will a publisher want it? Or should I self-publish it? EEEEK--I'm a writer not a publisher. Do I have to learn all about that, too? Well, the list of fears and what ifs can go on and on.
How easy it is to jump ahead when all that is required of me in this moment is to grab this stack of paper and sit in a comfortable chair with a Diet Coke next to me and a pink highlighter in my hand and begin to read.
Before reading, however, I will close my eyes, lightly, not tightly, and I will breathe, first deeply and then more evenly, as I find my own rhythm. I will rest in the quiet for a few minutes, listening for that inner voice that called me to show up and to do what I have said I have wanted to do--to write. I will listen again to that voice, the voice of Spirit who lives within me and gently supports me as I attempt to be the person I was created to be. I will listen to the difference between Spirit and my active Inner Critic, who thought it would be a good idea to stop working on this pipe dream of writing a book when I didn't get the grant I applied for this last spring. That inner critic who urged me to stop working so hard. "For what? You'll never get this book published any way and you might not even finish it. You don't have to do this?"
Julia Cameron, as quoted in Creative Authenticity, 16 Principles to Clarify and Deepen Your Artistic Vision by Ian Roberts says,
Creativity is really a spiritual issue, point blank!
Period! It takes courage. Another word for courage is
faith--and scripturally we say "faith without works is
dead". Creatively, it is exactly the same thing, so the
whole trick is to get people into action, to take creativity
out of the realm of theory and into the realm of practice.
What that means is to show up, to take the next step, however scary and uncertain. For me, today, that means daring to read what I have written. Just that. The next part of the adventure will unfold, I am sure of that.
Therefore, I have packed my backpack for this big adventure, and I bring the following with me for sustenance and inspiration:
I cherish my own courage. I salute myself for the
brave action I undertake in my life. I focus with
clarity and appreciation on the choices I have made
which have required courage and self-determination.
I applaud myself for my strength and my daring. Rather
than belittle myself for my fears, I choose to honor
myself for the bravery with which I have often walked
through my fears. I count back in specific ways and
enumerate for myself examples of my own courage:
the new friendship I have undertaken, the steadiness I
have shown in a difficult job, the honesty I have
displayed in opening a difficult conversation. I honor
myself for my bigheartedness in the face of challenges
from which I could have--but did not--shrunk back. My
courage brings blessings in my life. My courage blesses
the lives of others.
Blessings, Prayers and Declarations
for a Heartful Life, pp 74-75
Julia Cameron
An Invitation
In what ways are you asked to be courageous in your life right now? Is there a Big Adventure that is calling you? Is there an Inner Critic or Naysayer who gets in your way? What words do you have for that negative, nagging voice? How is Spirit guiding you and what is the next step? I would love to know.
Resources
The Loft Literary Center https://www.loft.org
Mary Carroll Moore http://www.marycarrollmoore.com
Julia Cameron http://juliacameronlive.com
Ian Roberts http://www.ianroberts.com
Yes, another one of those just right mornings. Not too hot. Not too cold. Just right. I could hardly wait to hit the pavement this morning, in spite of the garret desk pulling me. Maybe because of all I felt I needed to accomplish today.
I set off with words of Thomas Merton in my head.
All we need is to experience what we already possess.
This seems to me to be a statement about awakening and awareness. Such good words. Therefore, I set out easily, joyfully, to see what I could see, to bless what I saw, and to reflect on what entered my heart.
Here's my morning inventory.
Roses. I love the exuberance, the abundance of roses that have been allowed to grow with enthusiasm for many years. How can I live more exuberantly, more enthusiastically, sharing the abundance of my life?
Curbside Garden. In Cleveland this area between the street and the sidewalk was called "tree lawn," a most appropriate name, I think. In our neighborhood of small lawns I love seeing how people use the spaces available to them. How can I best use these years given to me?
Screen Porch. I admit it I still have porch envy. Not many of the homes in our neighborhood have an open or screened porch, and those that do, don't seem to be used. I rarely see people sitting on their porches, and I wonder why that is. Don't they know what they are missing? In each house we've owned that had a front porch we used it fully. What is it in my life I am not using fully?
Sidewalk Saying. I laughed out loud when I read this one, for it is such a good representation of male Scandinavian reticence. If you listen to Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion or just live in Minnesota you know what I mean. What feelings am I not expressing and why is that?
Neat yards. When does neat and well-tended become rigid and boring? Are there ways I need to loosen up?
Messy yards. I wonder about the people who live in homes where the yards and gardens seemed to have taken over, where all control seems to have been lost. Have they lost interest or physical ability or do they just not notice anymore? What is their story and is there someone who knows and cares? What am I no longer noticing and what do I need to tend?
Two Wishing Wells in One Yard. Does the owner have wishes that are too big for one well? What are my wishes, spoken and unspoken, known and unknown?
Hammock. This house not only has this luxurious hammock and pillow just ready for an afternoon book and nap, but also a screen porch. I wonder if they would like a new friend. How do I nurture myself?
Grecian Lady. The house where this elegant lady stands is simple and unadorned and in no way resembles a Greek temple. She doesn't seem to fit the location. What areas of my life do I need to accept with more elegance and grace?
Mixed Metaphor. First, I notice the tall iron fence and concrete planters, and then I see the tin goats and gnome on the lawn. I laugh outloud and wonder how and why someone created two such different looks in one small yard. How can I live with greater lightness and humor?
Ah, the gifts of a morning walk.
The quality of life is in proportion, always, to the
capacity for delight. The capacity for delight is the
gift of paying attention.
Julia Cameron, The Artist's Way
An Invitation
I invite you to go for a walk today. What do you notice around you and inside of yourself? I would love to know.
I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.
Joan Didion
When people learn I write a blog, they often ask "Where do you get your ideas?" I am always a bit stunned by the question, because ideas are not the problem. Making time, taking time to write is much more of a problem for me.
Ideas are scrawled on little scraps of paper in the car, and notebooks of all sizes are filled with pages of writing ideas. My journal overflows with drafts for further development, and now I even use my iPhone for noting something I heard or saw that sparks a thought within me. Ideas are NOT the problem.
I do appreciate the question, however, and it deserves a reflective answer. Where do the ideas come from?
The Writing Life
When I started keeping journals in a regular, ongoing way almost 40 years ago, Christina Baldwin, who has written brilliantly about journal writing, said to my burgeoning journal writing group, "The more you write, the more you find to write about and the more you find to write about, the more you write."
How true that is! Writing requires living fully--being with family and friends and enjoying a diversity of activities and interactions, as well as time to do all the "stuff" of life. Just as important are gathering days, percolating days as ways to open to and relax in the possibility of new ideas and stimulation. Julia Cameron in her classic The Artist's Way calls these days Artist's Dates.
Perhaps you are one of the many who are declaring days of the week or hours of the day as times of non-connection meaning turning off the cell phone, staying away from all your tech devices. Those are times to let your mind and soul breathe, a kind of breathing essential to my writing life; times when ideas flow and develop and grow and then magically come to fruition the next time I sit down to write. In reality, those may be times of greatest connection, cosmic connection.
Paradox and Gratitude
Being a writer is not without its paradox. How do I stay fully engaged with life and the life around me and at the same time be the listener, the observer, that opens my mind and spirit to ideas, which I translate into my writing? Often I say in the midst of a conversation or activity, "I feel a blog post coming on," and in that moment I have removed myself from the present moment. Instead, I start thinking about what I am going to write.
Trust enters this paradox. The need to trust that if my focus is staying awake and bringing my full self into the moment, when the time comes to bring my full self to the writing, the ideas will be there. That is the moment when I feel immense gratitude, and each writing session becomes a way to give thanks.
I am often surprised, however, when I sit down to write by what idea comes to the forefront. I often think I am going to write about x and have been thinking about how to develop that idea and what resources I have in my library to support and expand that idea. When the time comes, I sit quietly at my desk and close my eyes before picking up a pen or opening the "new post" section of my blog. I breathe a deep cleansing breath and ask that my writing partner, Creator God, be with me. Sometimes something entirely different rises to the top and demands attention. It is in that moment when I feel fully awake and when my True Self feels alive.
The Practice of Being Awake
Writing, and in particular writing this blog, is a spiritual practice and as with any spiritual practice, I need to be awake in order to bring myself to the practice. And not just awake when I sit at my desk in front of my laptop and declare the next hour or two as writing time, but all the time--as much time as possible.
And not just caffeine awake either.
The ultimate spiritual practice is being awake.
Being aware.
Being mindful.
Being in the present.
Being.
Listening with the eyes of my heart.
When I am awake, so much more can enter into my being, and I become aware of Presence, which enriches and draws me further into specific practices. For me that is writing, but also meditation and prayer and study. And sitting in spiritual direction with a directee. For you that might be gardening or doing yoga or painting or working at a food shelter.
I desire that kind of alert attention for every aspect of my life.
My intention is for my life to be one of spiritual practice.
That's where I get my ideas.
An Invitation
If you live a creative life, where do your ideas come from? In what ways is your creativity a form of spiritual practice? What are your intentions for living a creative life? A spiritual life?
I would love your comments about staying awake to your whole life.
Recent days have felt more like a transition from August to September than July to August. Something in the air. A tired, worn out green on some of the trees. My pots of basil begging for harvesting. And, of course, school supplies taking over a big section in Target. 
