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.

  

Cancellations as "Found" Time, a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

Recently, plans have changed. Dates and appointments have been cancelled. An evening out with friends. A phone date. A lunch date. A visit from a friend. A visit to a friend. Even an appointment for a showing of our house was cancelled. Most of these items on my calendar have been rescheduled (Not the house showing appointment, however. Rats!), and most are just examples of life happening. Understandable and acceptable. Rarely do I worry about possible motivations underlying the change. Most of the time I don't view the cancellation as a criticism or disinterest, but instead, just one of those things. 

The Gift of Found Time

     However, this bundle of recent cancellations does make me wonder why so many in a short period of time? Is the Universe trying to tell me something? A message to be more flexible? An opportunity to be present to challenges in others' lives? A chance to let go of some control? To breathe? 

    Over the years people in my life have heard me use the phrase "Found Time." When plans change that open up space I didn't expect to have, I think of that as "found time." Sometimes found time happens when I am in the waiting room of a doctor's office or waiting to get my hair cut or an airline flight has been cancelled or delayed. I amaze myself, frankly, in those situations that I don't feel irritated or frustrated. Most of the time I am able to shrug my shoulders and exhibit patience.  I always have a book or magazine with me, so I relax easily into my found time with little or no  resentment. Sometimes, for example yesterday when the house showing scheduled for the mid afternoon was cancelled with a phone call first thing in the morning, I suddenly felt I had a whole day ahead of me; a day that did not need to include vacuuming and dusting. And a day that even included an extra hour, thanks to the clocks being set back, Talk about Found Time! 

How to Use Found Time

     I recognize that the experience of found time is a chance to listen to my heart. What is it I most want to do right now? My immediate inclination when there is a sudden appearance of found time is to fill it. Do errands I didn't think I would have time for. Do the next thing on the list of tasks for the week. Get a jump on something I planned to do tomorrow. Be productive. Accomplish something. Finish something I thought I would have to set aside. 

But sometimes I hear and respond to another message in the sudden appearance of found time. "Nancy, put your feet up. Sit. Relax. Enjoy time to read or write in your journal or take a walk. Slow down and listen to your heart." 

     Because there have been so many instances of "found time" lately, I have to wonder if instead of being asked to consider only my use of the immediate time, although that is a gift in itself,  am I being prodded to reflect on the bigger picture? How is it I want to be in the time I have left here on earth? How is it I am supposed to use my time? What is my purpose for this stage of my life? My call? I must admit I am struggling with that a bit these days, sitting in the midst of transition, a transition that feels a bit stuck to me. 

A New Intention 

     Therefore, now seems like a good time for a new intention; an intention that will not only help me respond to unexpected moments of found time, but will be a reminder to live in the present, for I believe it is in the present where we are given hints about the life we are meant to live

     My new intention:

For the next two months I will live fully in this house and in this holiday time of family and friends. I will honor requests for showings, but will treat them as a bonus and not as expected.

     As a sign of living fully here and now in this house, I moved my laptop back to the room on the lower level I have used as my office. Some potential buyers have not been able to imagine how to use this space, so I have "staged" it to look more like a family room. Many of my spirituality books, however, are still on the shelves, along with board games for family fun. This is where I feel most inspired to write and where I need to be. Here I can better fulfill my intention and find the time to write and study and pray. Here I can live in Found Time.

Reflection Questions

     How do you use "found time"? How do you respond when plans are cancelled? 

     What new intention is asking to be acknowledged in your life?

One last thing: Here in Wisconsin we continue to have lovely fall weather, although the temperatures are a bit cooler. These are "found" days. 

Do It! A Gentle Reminder by Nancy L. Agneberg

Need I say more?!!

Moving On and Standing Still, a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

I read recently that this elder stage in life is about the freedom to choose how I want to get tired. I like that, but this time is also about how I choose to stay awake. How I choose to engage, to stay engaged. 
     Recently, a friend introduced me to the book One Thousand Gifts, by Anne Voskamp, and she challenged me to start my own list of "gifts." An ongoing list in which I record "sanctuaries in moments," (p. 105) and "the cathedral of the moment" (p. 102). Keeping this list encourages me to notice all the gifts that surround me and fill my life. 
# 6    A fresh journal, a good fast-writing pen
# 8    The car seat warmer on an early morning
# 18  Spontaneous lunch with a friend
# 24  Reading on the porch in the late afternoon, wrapped in a shawl
# 36  A good hair day!
# 46  The thud of the newspaper as it is tossed on the front porch
# 58  The reds, the yellows, the oranges. Oh my!
# 68  The smell of zucchini bread baking in the oven
# 83  A picture of my father taken this summer--a martini in his hand
# 86  The smell of Bruce's soap when he emerges from the bathroom in the morning
# 99  Gelato from Target--amaretto cherry!
# 106 A full day with a longtime friend
# 128 Safe arrival of a newborn grandnephew
# 142 Sounds of Bruce and Peter playing "hockey" in the front yard
# 163 Pheasants crossing the road
# 170 Laundry chugging along
# 175 Dressing the bed for fall and winter
# 185 Leftover homemade chili
# 196 The gift of a friend's words--"develop a quiet heart"
# 204 Two new books on my desk
# 217 The early morning sound of sandhill cranes
# 225 A clean bathroom and a clean me by 9:00 am
     I love this spiritual practice, but I am also aware that as we age  these precious present moments are rimmed by so much past, and the temptation might be to let the past swallow us. Instead, I invite the past to be an informant, giving us hints about how to be more in the present. At the same time our present moments at this age are so much closer to the future we all share --our arrival at death's door. "The only place we have to come before we die is the place of seeing God." (p. 108) And that is what the present is all about for me --staying awake in order to see, to know, to experience God in ourselves and in all around us. At a time when the past can dominate, the paradox is to live fully now. At a time when there are daily reminders of our common future as we lose friends and family, the challenge is to live now.
     And that brings me to St Benedict and the tree by our garage. According to Esther de Wall in her book Seeking God, The Way of St Benedict, "St Benedict is the master of paradox, and if he tells us to move on he also tells us to stand still." (p 13) 
     The other day I felt at the center of this paradox. It was time to renew the lease on our apartment in St Paul. 6 months? Month to month? With our house still being on the market we are not able to take the next step and renewing the lease maintains the status quo. Standing still. That same day I packed up more dishes for the day when it will finally be time to move. Moving on. I wonder, Does this give the Universe a mixed message? How is it possible to move on and stand still at the same time? 
     What could be a better illustration of this paradox than the autumn trees? The leaves are falling, but the tree is still standing. The tree is not completely bare yet, but is in transition. Moving on and standing still seems to be happening at the same time.
     I think the paradox of moving on and standing still is all about paying attention. When is it time to move on and what preparation does it take to move on when the time is right? What does moving on mean anyway and what does it require? And move on to what? And when is standing still--persevering, being steadfast and stable--the way to deepen spiritually? What is the difference between standing still and being stuck? 
    As always there are spiritual lessons, and this paradox seems to lead me to reflections on trust and patience, but also openness and awareness. And about maintaining the spiritual practices that keep me grounded and growing at the same time. 
    How is the paradox of moving on and standing still evident in your life right now?
    And if you were to start a one thousand gifts list right now what would be your first item?       

Room with a View, a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

One of my favorite novels is E. M. Forster's Room with a View. I loved the movie, too. The story, set in part in Florence, Italy, involves a young woman from England and her chaperone who have been promised a room with a view of the River Arno, and they are incensed when they discover their room actually looks over a courtyard. If the book were set in 2012 instead of the early 1900's, I wonder if they would have pronounced the view a "major turnoff." 
     That's the feedback we received after a recent showing about the view from our kitchen, which is in the back of our home. We happen to love the view, which unfortunately is not given its due in this picture, and did from the very the first time we toured the house.  We love the rooftop view, the feeling of looking out and over and beyond. I stand at the sink and wonder about the families in all these homes. I love the diversity of roofline and shingle color and the mature trees framing and sheltering these homes. I love seeing the squirrels scampering on our porch roof as they plot how to steal the food meant for birds. I love seeing the sun creeping across our garage roof, conquering the dew on these cool fall mornings, giving me an indication of what to expect when I go outside. I love hearing the kids on their skate boards whizzing down the alley and seeing our neighbor working in her garden of every shade of purple. And in the winter I can see children playing in the snow in the open space on Strawberry Loop. I love being part of the neighborhood and yet having a sense of privacy. 
    Ironically, a neighbor the day of this showing commented,  "Today is a great day to show a prospective buyer the view from the back of our houses." Now I realize we don't all have the same taste and aesthetics, but honestly, this house selling process can make one feel crazy. How could I possibly have fallen in love with a house that has this kind of view from the kitchen? How could I possibly live in a home where I have to trudge from the garage through the screen porch and my office on the lower level to get to the stairs up to the kitchen? I could go on, but instead I stop, take a deep breath and gaze from the deck we refer to as "Paris," and did so even before our trip to Paris a year ago. 
     The view from the kitchen and the deck makes my imagination soar. I envision myself living in a Parisian garret, looking dreamily over the rooftops. The Seine is somewhere out there. Notre Dame is just beyond the trees. If I stretch maybe I can see the Eiffel Tower. What a magical and glorious life. 
     Here's something to consider. Looking for a home to buy is an invitation to stretch one's point of view, to think a bit out of the box, to imagine what it would be like to live here, rather than there. Living in a home is a creative venture and an opportunity to make something yours that formerly was someone else's. Buying a home is a way to challenge your values and priorities and to examine what really matters most in terms of how you live your life. If every time you stood at the sink, you thought, "I can't stand this view," and if that view made time in the kitchen much more of a negative than a positive experience, than that view clearly is not for you. Move on! I get it. After all, I happen to love water views more than mountain views. 
     I have apologized to the house for a comment that seems unnecessarily harsh and for other unkind things other prospective buyers may have said. In fact, these kinds of comments have made me think about my own words and reactions as I have looked at prospective next homes. I am cleaning up my own act, not wanting to leave a deposit of negative energy in someone else's home.  I have restated my deep affection for this house and the life we are privileged to have here. 

     We know this house is not for everyone. No house is right for everyone.  We are willing to wait for the person who will fall in love with this house, even the view from the kitchen, and will proclaim it in the spirit of Goldilocks, "just right."  
      
     

Habits of the Heart

An invitation: Read Healing the Heart of Democracy, The Courage to Create A Politics Worthy of the Human Spirit by writer, teacher, and activist (and resident of Madison) Parker J. Palmer. I have read other books by Palmer and therefore, knew the quality of his writing and thinking, but I was attracted me to the book in hopes it would help me approach this contentious presidential campaign without raising my blood pressure to dangerous levels. It has done that for the most part, however, there are days when the "you've got to be kidding" factor has to be addressed! 
     Early in the book Palmer reminds the reader of the ideal purpose and nature of politics.
     Politics "is the ancient and honorable human endeavor of creating a community in which the weak as well as the strong can flourish, love and power can collaborate, and justice and mercy can have their day. 'We the People' must build a political life rooted in the commonwealth of compassion and creativity still found among us, becoming a civic community sufficiently united to know our own will and hold those accountable to it."
     Furthermore, "Democracy gives us the right to disagree and is designed to use the energy of creative conflict to drive positive social change. Partisanship is not a problem. Demonizing the other side is."
     Palmer invites us to approach our life as citizens in a democracy with our hearts, for the heart is where our knowledge becomes more fully human. He is fully aware that at times we will be brokenhearted as with the recent killings in Libya, but here is what is so striking to me. Palmer draws the distinction between a heart broken apart and a heart broken open. 
     "If it breaks apart into a thousand pieces, the result may be anger, depression, and disengagement. If it breaks open into greater capacity to hold the complexities and contradictions of human experience, the result may be new life." 
     There's where the reading of this book as a context for the current campaign became a window into my life as a spiritual being. Am I living my life with an open heart, even when my heart breaks? As I look back on my life at times of deep sorrow and disappointment or grief, did I linger in the shattered pieces mired in fear and anger or was I able to use the reality of my broken heart to become more compassionate and to heal, truly heal? In what circumstances does my heart remain broken apart and how do I encourage a more open heart even as it breaks?
     Palmer suggests five Habits of the Heart for American citizens in our current life.
     1.   We must understand that we are all in this together.
     2.   We must develop an appreciation of the value of 'otherness.'
     3.   We must cultivate the ability to hold tension in life-giving ways.
     4.   We must generate a sense of personal voice and agency.
     5.   We must strengthen our capacity to create community.  
You'll have to read Palmer's book to get a full discussion of these habits, but I started thinking about how to develop these habits. What are the spiritual practices I can encourage in my own life that will support these habits of the heart? Here's my list for myself:
     *  Meditation and prayer,
     *  Opportunities for silence and solitude,
     *  Listening more and speaking less,
     *  Reflection through writing and reading,
     *  Stretching the body and the mind,
     *  Participation in community,
     *  Living in the present and with the Presence,
     *  Being aware of all the blessings in my life.
Almost every conversation I have had this week has presented an example of the choice between a heart broken apart and a heart broken open. There is no escaping heartbreaking situations. We all suffer losses, and as we age we will lose more. More and more grief will enter our life. And, in fact, with each day we are closer to our own death. Now is the time to build and reinforce the habits of the heart which not only can support us as we face inevitable challenges, but also can enhance our life, even create new life.  
     I invite you to share your experiences of being heartbroken and the habits of the heart that sustain you. 

Note: Here are other Parker Palmer titles I have in my library and have found to be thought-provoking and helpful:
* The Active Life, Wisdom for Work, Creativity, and Caring
* Let Your Life Speak, Listening for the Voice of Vocation
* A Hidden Wholeness, The Journey Toward and Undivided Life, Welcoming the Soul and weaving Community in a Wounded World

Check out Palmer's website: www.couragerenewal.org


  

The Symbolism of Tomato Soup, a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

I made tomato soup yesterday. What is blog post worthy about that? Well, first of all my tomato soup is absolutely delicious and a family favorite, but that is not the main reason I am writing about tomato soup today. The main reason is that the making of tomato soup yesterday represents a turning point in the process of selling our home.  Allow me to make the connection.
     It is now September, and I LOVE fall. LOVE FALL! I know the days are shorter, and I get up to go exercise when it is still dark, and I understand that it won't be long before shovels will be on the front porch instead of wicker furniture, but before then it is fall--cooler, crisper temperatures, sweaters, pumpkins, applesauce, fresh notebooks. Well, I could go on.... The point is I don't want to miss fall because I am cleaning the house everyday to the point of obsession, a new addiction, in anticipation of potential showings. We have had lots of showings, and I am more than grateful that there continues to be interest in our home, even two showings the week before Labor Day, which I am told is unusual. However, no offers--yet. 
     Because we have been living lightly in the house, very lightly, I have not done much cooking these summer months. It was time to mess up the kitchen and what better or messier way to do it than by making tomato soup. Making tomato soup takes a large saucepan, a medium saucepan, a colander, a big bowl, a smaller bowl, a Cuisinart or food mill etc. I end up with a red stained apron, and a sink full of tomato peels and seeds, and the best late summer supper ever. Well worth messing up the kitchen. 
     I came to the decision to make a batch of tomato soup not only because the Farmers' Market was laden with gorgeous tomatoes of all varieties, but because I was musing about what the coming fall season might bring. Of course, I would love to have the house sell before the cold weather arrives, and I would love to move into an apartment here in Middleton and our new home in St Paul before we are carrying boxes in below freezing temperatures, but I realize we truly can be content this way for as long as necessary. We have a great house here, and the apartment in St Paul suits our needs perfectly. There is nothing I don't like about living in Middleton/Madison. We have lovely friends and Bruce has a stimulating, challenging job that suits him so well. Life is good and it is time to live it in the present. 
     This new revelation has resulted in a new resolve to settle in a bit more and not be as focused on selling the house. Time is on our side, and the next owner who loves this house as much as we do will appear at the right time. 
     Is there something you have not been doing? Some way you have been putting your life on the side because of something you are waiting to happen? Well, fall is a bonus time of renewed or brand new resolutions. Happy fall and bon appetit!  

Herbed Fresh Tomato Soup
Serves 8

2 Tablespoons butter
2 Tablespoons olive oil
2 medium onions, thinly sliced
2 pounds fresh tomatoes, peeled and quartered (5 cups)
1 6 oz can tomato paste
2 Tablespoons (at least) snipped fresh basil. Actually, I prefer a handful of basil. Or if necessary, 2 teaspoons dried basil
4 teaspoons snipped fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dried thyme
3 cups chicken broth
1 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper fresh thyme or basil as garnish

In large saucepan, combine butter and the oil; heat till butter melts. Add onion and cook till tender, but not brown. Stir in tomatoes, tomato paste, the snipped basil and thyme. Mash tomatoes slightly. Add chicken broth. Bring to boiling. Reduce heat. Cover and simmer 40 minutes. Press through food mill or puree a small amount at a time in blender or Cuisinart. Strain. Return mixture to sauce pan. Stir in salt and pepper. Heat through. To serve, top with fresh herbs.