Thursday's Reflection: The Endless Practice by Mark Nepo

An ongoing theme for me in my writing and in the rest of my living is to become the person I was created to be, to let my essential being thrive and grow. Imagine my delight, therefore,  when I discovered Mark Nepo's most recent book The Endless Practice, Becoming Who You Were Born to Be. Nepo, who is a poet, philosopher, cancer survivor and author of fifteen books, is one of my sacred companions, even though I have never meant him, but his words have often offered me exactly the direction or insight I needed.

My gift to you today is a sampling of Mark Nepo's wisdom found in The Endless Practice. I invite you to read them carefully, perhaps even reading them out loud, and allow the teaching to enter your heart. What is the meaning for you? Is there a reason these words are offered to you right now? What is the invitation for you in these words?

Here we go. 

Life is now about uncovering the essence in each moment, each conversation, each experience, and less about building anything or journeying toward some imagined destination. At this stage of life, I'm being asked to exhaust the struggle and deepen my relationship to the mystery. p. 55

Often, in our drive to make sense of our experience, we go too far and assume our experience is the experience. In our want to find patterns, we often extrapolate what happens to us into a philosophy of life, which in time we think is the philosophy of life. We burn our hand on a stove or break our heart in love and then we're teaching others that fire and love are dangerous, not to be trusted. Soon, the only ideas that have value are those that confirm what happened to us. We certainly need to make meaning and form our own direct understanding of life, but only to offer that understanding, that philosophy, as one thread in the fabric of life. To understand the weave, we need to find other threads. pp.94-95.

Being human, there are always cloud like veils that drop between us and our direct living. Sometimes, we have to part the veil with the clarity of our mind. Sometimes, we have to let the rush of our heart billow the veil away. Sometimes, we need the love of others to pull the veil aside. Parting the veil is a working act of faith; an act of ultimate concerns; an act of bringing all of who we are to bear on opening ourselves up when we're shut down. For when we're shut down, we tend to sink. When we're open, we tend to meet that buoyancy and rise. p. 193

Little by little, it's the courage to assume our full stature one more time that enables us to do the heartwork that always makes us come alive. It's the turn from hiding to giving that releases Heaven on Earth. p. 232

Quick Hits

"daily taste of holiness"
"repotting ourselves"
"living a life of care"
"Lean into the tender place."
"Experience is the taste of God."
"We are here to love the light out of each other."
"What's in the way is the way."

More Nepo--My Favorites
* The Book of Awakening, Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have
* Facing the Lion, Being the Lion, Finding Inner Courage Where It Lives
* The Exquisite Risk, Daring to Live an Authentic Life
* Seven Thousand Ways to Listen, Staying Close to What is Sacred

Also,  http://threeintentions.com and http://www.marknepo.com

An Invitation
Do any of Nepo's words resonate with you? I would love to know. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Little By Little, Step By Step

I had one of those "I might as well give up" moments again the other day. This fall I took an excellent online writing class through The Loft Literary Center, https://www.loft.org ,"Your Book Starts Here" taught by Mary Carroll Moore. Doing the work for that class propelled me from envisioning and imagining the book that has been in my head for quite some time to the first stages of writing it. The class is over, Moore's weekly blog http://howtoplanwriteanddevelopabook.blogspot.com, however, helps keep me on track with its suggestions and exercises. Usually.

Last week's post cautioned before spending much time structuring a book, it is wise to have about 90,000 words of free writing or rough unrevised drafts. I thought I had about 60,000 words, but after checking my drafts I discovered I only have about 28,000. EEEK!

Immediately, I spiraled out of commitment into despair and discouragement, disillusionment. Lots of "dis" words.
             Disheartened
             Disinclination
             Disjointed
             Disappointment

I left my garret office wondering why I was wasting my time. After all, lots of people my age are more than content to move through their days without any big shining purpose to guide them, motivate and stimulate them. I could do that, too. Why am protecting my mornings for writing? Think of all the book shelves and drawers I could reclaim, if I donated my writing books some place and shredded my files. I'm in my mid-60's, and maybe I don't have the kind of energy or time left to accomplish what I have set before myself. 

Yes, I tend to get a bit dramatic. 

The next morning I went right back up the stairs to my garret and re-introduced my writing self to my disgruntled and despondent self. I remembered Anne Lamott's words about facing big projects, "Bird by bird. Just take it bird by bird." Bird by Bird, Some Instructions of Writing and Life, p. 19. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Lamott

Yup, I needed to move forward word by word. Morning by morning. Day by day. Page by page. This was not the time to focus on all the words not yet written, but instead, the 28,000 I have written already, even though they await drastic revision. This was the time to focus on the current word, the one coming out of my fingertips in the present moment. 

And so I did. This past week I wrote almost 5,000 words--word by word--and, of course the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write and the more ideas I had, and the deeper commitment I felt, and the more possible this project seems. 

Over the weekend my husband and I went to see the movie Wild based on the book of the same name by Cheryl Strayed http://www.cherylstrayed.com about walking the Pacific Coast Trail by herself. In many scenes Reese Witherspoon, who plays Strayed, stops to look at the trail stretched out in front of her, and you can see on her face the temptation to give up. Somehow, however, she takes the next step and the one after that and on and on until she makes it months later to her destination.  Step by step.

Obviously, I have not had my last experience of falling into the "dis" words nor was it the first. You might recall an earlier post in which I was tempted to disown myself as a writer.  http://clearingthespace.blogspot.com/2014/11/thursdays-reflection-am-i-writer.html For now, however, I am on the path again, remembering that each step is preceded by a previous one, and each step adds on to the steps before and the steps to come. What is easier to recognize at this stage of my life is that my goal to write a book is not so much about accomplishing the goal as it is about writing the book, word by word, learning as I go, digging into clearer understanding of who I was created to be and forming a deeper relationship with Creator God.  

Mark Nepo says, "Little by little, the way the hundredth drop of water opens a seed…Everything on Earth moves by this inching between ease and pain. It's how we grow. And praising both, surrendering to both, accepting both is the work of love. The Endless Practice, p. 116.  http://www.marknepo.com

Perhaps you have a "bird by bird" in your life, although it may be drawer by drawer or box by box as you attempt to organize and simplify your home. Or perhaps it is pound by pound or class by class. Or conversation by conversation as you attempt to forgive or seek forgiveness or restore or deepen a relationship that matters to you. Whatever is in front of you, calling you, can only be experienced step by step. 

An Invitation
What in your life needs to be divided into smaller increments? What are the bird by bird lessons waiting to be revealed and practiced in your life? I would love to know. 




     

Thursday's Reflection: Living Mindfully

On my way up to the garret, I glanced out the window and what did I see? This agile and daring squirrel. He was willing to stretch and take a chance in hopes of getting the desired morsel of bird seed. I suspect he was successful. If he wasn't successful, chances are he will try again until he gets what he wants or until he decides the effort isn't worth it, and he spots another place with potential for an afternoon snack. 

This squirrel is always good for a laugh and a smile. And a pause in the day. 

I had been gone all morning, attending a workshop at church about health care directives. Although not the lightest of topics, the time was congenial with pleasant people and helpful information.  However, I was eager to return to my desk before it would be time to pick up our granddaughter from school. The time seemed to be oozing away from the day. More than pressured to accomplish some self-designated task, I was eager to return to the writing I had started earlier in the day. I didn't want to lose momentum or what seemed to me to be deep insights--so deep they may have disappeared. 

But then there was that squirrel, showing off, auditioning for Cirque du Soleil, and cheating the birds out of what should rightfully be theirs. I had no choice but to pause and watch and even now as I sit at my desk, I wonder what that squirrel is plotting next. 

Mark Nepo http://www.marknepo.com uses the phrase, "a daily dose of holiness," in his book The Endless Practice, p. 192. I'm not saying the squirrel is holy, but if you want to view him that way, that is fine with me, but the pause I gave myself to stand and watch him and delight in his antics, even though only moments earlier I had been pulled in my own direction was holy. The lure to pause was holy. 

How many opportunities are there in your day for a dose of holiness? The trick is to be aware of them, to allow them past your closed door, to soften and soak up the scene. What was the soft drink slogan? "The pause that refreshes."

In the unplanned moment, I was holy. 

By "holy," I don't mean wearing long robes and removing myself from the world, and I certainly don't mean being better than anyone else. Holiness is not about perfection or about being wrapped in some golden light, too pure to be touched by what is harmful or hurtful. Rather, holiness is being alive to the extraordinary in the ordinary, returning to our center, even though the feeling may last no longer than one cycle of inhale and exhale. 

We each have the potential to bring holiness into our day to day experiences and realities. We each have the promise of noticing the holy and therefore, bringing holiness into our being. 

Perhaps the following prayer will encourage your own practice of holiness.

Surprising One, coming in ways I least expect, open me to your dynamic presence.
          Awaken me, Surprising One!
Perceptive Guide, always available o direct my ways, advise me in self-discipline and decision-making.
           Awaken me, Perceptive Guide!
Freedom Bringer, asking for my willingness to surrender, help me to let go, to let in, to let be.
            Awaken me, Freedom Bringer!
Source of Power, providing stamina and strength for my soul, support me when I am weak and vulnerable.
             Awaken me, Source of Power!
Arousing One, stirring up why is dead or stale, urge my stagnant, sleeping gifts into life.
              Awaken me, Arousing One!
Divine Transformer, encouraging continued growth, grant me both patient and acceptance.
               Awaken me, Divine Transformer!
Peacemaker, offering forgiveness and understanding, encourage me to communicate love.
                Awaken me, Peacemaker! 
Bearer of Love, never-ending font of charity and compassion, may I share my goodness generously.
                Awaken me, Bearer of Love!
                                                adapted from Out of the Ordinary Prayers, Poems, Reflections for Every Season, Joyce Rupp http://www.joycerupp.com

An Invitation
I invite you to see the holy and be the holy. What happens as you invite the holy into your life and as you offer your own holiness into the life around you? I would love to know. 

Thursday Reflection: Happy New Year!

Dear Friends, Happy New Year and welcome to 2015!  

New Year's Day is not the only time during the year when we experience a fresh start, a new beginning. Perhaps you have that feeling at the start of the school year, even though you haven't been in a classroom for many years, or maybe it occurs on the first day of  turning earth for a new garden or opening a can of paint to bring new life to an outdated room. Have you have known that feeling of "newness" with the birth of a grandchild or a decision to make a major change in your life? Yes, one can experience a feeling of beginning anew often throughout the year, but somehow January 1 is unlike all other launches. 

In January we seem to be bombarded with suggestions about how to organize and declutter our lives. Target's aisles of plastic bins are marauded by those who have resolved to bring more order into their lives. Magazines and newspapers and blogs and other websites all give hints for how to deal with the material stuff in our life, all in the hope of living easier. 

Many of us create lists in these first days of the new year of what needs to be done in our homes. In our home, today is the designated "demolition" day. No walls are coming down. Just the Christmas decorations. As much as I have loved decorating this year, and the house has been so cozy in the glow of candles and Christmas lights, IT IS TIME! I can't wait to return Christmas bins to the storage area, and then my first 2015 house task will be to tackle the laundry room. Mundane, I know, but so be it. 

My list is long as we continue to deal with all the possessions from a lifetime of collecting. Not only do we live in a much smaller home now, but we are oh, so ready to shed, declutter, and lighten up, giving us both the appearance of a new beginning, as well as the space and the emotional energy to live anew. To be open to the new, instead of attached to whatever has cluttered, not only our homes, but our hearts and our minds.

That, of course, is the real purpose of decluttering--to let go of what no longer serves us well, of what impedes us from being the person we were created to be. Dealing with all the physical stuff in our lives is important, but it is not enough. 

What is cluttering and burdening our hearts and minds?

I am reminded of what one of my favorite spiritual guides, Mark Nepo, says on the subject of decluttering and letting go in his book, The Book of Awakening. He tells the story of a friend preparing to paint his family room. He mixed the paint outside and then loaded himself with everything he needed to begin painting. You can guess what happened. He struggled to get the door open and in the process spilled the gallon of red paint. 

          It's such a simple thing, but in a moment of ego we

          refuse to put down what we carry in order to open the

          door. Time and time again, we are offered the chance

          to truly learn this: We cannot hold on to things and 

          enter. We must put down what we carry, open the

          door, and then take up only what we need to bring

          inside. p. 3

The spiritual writer Joyce Rupp refers to this time of year as a time of "freshness," a time when we are encouraged to let go of old hurts and fears; feelings of failure and weakness or of the old stories dwelt on for far too long. She quotes the poet Gerald Manley Hopkins, "There lies the dearest freshness deep down things." and then Rupp goes on to say,

          Freshness. That's it. That is what this new year is 

          offering me as I pray to God of my life this sparkling

          morning. God is holding out a freshness of life to me.

          God is offering me a new beginning with this new 

          year.

                                Fresh Bread And Other Gifts of Spiritual

                                Nourishment, p. 19

As we declutter our homes and attempt to live simpler, easier lives, what I think we are moving towards is that feeling of freshness, like putting fresh sheets on the bed or eating fresh grapefruit in the morning or looking out into the fresh morning sunshine even on a below zero day. We yearn to see life with a fresh perspective and to live with fresh pep in our steps. We want to freshen up! 

Freshness comes when we forgive ourselves and others, when we move through and beyond the ways we restrict ourselves, when we recognize what is stale in our inner lives and needs to be tossed. Along with freshness comes deeper and wider compassion or as Nepo says, "our heart becomes our skin." (The Endless Practice, Becoming Who You Were Born to Be, p. 119)

Call it decluttering or downsizing or call it creating freshness. Whatever you call it, make 2015 a year when you open the door and cross the threshold holding only what you need. 

An Invitation

What areas of your inner life need decluttering and where does your life need freshening? What are your plans for bringing freshness into your life? I would love to know. 

          

On the Bridge, the Spiritual Practice of Transitions a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

    I am frequently aware of being in the midst of transition, and that interests me and becomes an opening for examination of both my inner life, as well as what is swirling around me in my outer life. 

   Fall into Winter

   This morning I noticed evidence of transitions as I walked through the neighborhood. Mainly, the transition between fall and winter, between Halloween and Christmas. Pumpkins, some almost melting in on themselves thanks to frosty nights, along with pots of mums, browning and losing an intensity of color still dominate the scene, but at the same time Christmas decorations are beginning to appear. Greens in window boxes. Lights on trees. Even an artificial Christmas tree on a front porch where pumpkins still march up the stairs. We know we are not quite done with one season, but still there is the temptation and inclination to move into the next season. We treasure and exalt Thanksgiving as a holiday that demands little of us except turkey and mashed potatoes and offers us a chance to express gratitude for our many blessings, but at the same time time, we feel the urgency of Christmas looming ahead in a countdown of shopping days. I say this not to pass judgment or to plead for simplicity and sanity. Instead, I think about the movement in our lives.

     A Transition of the Heart
     Earlier this week my husband needed a heart catheterization in order to determine if the symptoms he was experiencing were the result of blockage and damage to the heart. The good news is that no stent or bypass is needed, but instead drug therapy is proscribed, along with some life style changes that will be good for both of us. The day in the hospital awaiting the procedure was long, but we both remained calm and patient. Bruce rested, and I gazed out the window with its soothing view of Lake Monona over the bare treetops.  Time to breathe and time to be. 
      Later I thought about how my diagnosis of uterine cancer 10 years ago when I was 54 felt like an experience out of time.  Not in the rightful order of things. I felt too young for that to happen. A totally unrealistic assumption, of course. Now we are 64, and as we face this wake up call, it feels as if we are taking a major step into the next stage of our life.  We can't dismiss the possibility of physical issues beyond the norm of colds and flu. Dear friends face cancer or recover from surgeries of various kinds. We are getting older. We are in transition. 
     Bridge Work
     When I meditated the other day, a word arrived in my heart. Bridge. That is how this time feels. We are on a bridge. At times the bridge seems to sway in a strong wind and at times I lose sight of where I have come from, and the way ahead is not very clear, but I don't feel threatened by that. Instead, I am aware of the importance to take every step, to stop and pause often. To breathe and to be. 
     The morning of the heart cath I spent my meditation time with   the new book, Seven Thousand Ways to Listen, Staying Close to What is Sacred, by one of my spiritual guides, Mark Nepo and was given a gift of two words: unplanned unfoldings. This is how transition feels to me. Nepo says, "The larger intention is to stay in relationship with everything that comes along, at least long enough to taste what is living." As I become aware of where I am on the bridge, I pray I accept the invitation of unplanned unfoldings to live fully with love, instead of fear. 
NOTE: As I have been writing this post I have observed a hawk on a nearby tree. As I entered the last word, he flew away. I am grateful for his watchful presence.