I have nothing profound to say today.
I have nothing momentous or earth-shattering or life-changing to report.
What I do want to say, however, is that each day is a gift, but somedays are better gifts than others. Saturday was one of those days.
Bruce started the day with his men's book group at church, which has become an important part of his life. Yes, they discuss a book, but sometimes the book is merely an excuse, a tool, for these men, who, by and large, are of retirement age, to connect with one another, to explore the value of friendship in their lives.
While he was gone, I did some home tending, still in my pajamas, which is my favorite cleaning attire. Not much was needed, but nonetheless I zoomed around with duster and vacuum cleaner, channeling my mother, Mrs. Clean.
Once Bruce was home, the adventure of the day started. Now for those of you who define "adventure" as trips to the other side of the world or doing something with a high risk factor, feel free to smile and roll your eyes. We got in the car and drove along our favorite Minnehaha Parkway route and then around Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun to Lake of the Isles, once again admiring the varied architecture and the large, elegant homes. I always play the House Game: "If I could, I would choose to live in that one. No, this one." I wonder about the people who built those homes in the golden age of Minneapolis history and about the people who live in them now. If you love Downton Abbey like I do, you will understand.
Our destination was Birchbark Books, an independent bookstore owned by the author Louise Erdrich. A favorite place, but we don't go there often enough. At least we make up for our infrequency by always buying a pile of books. Saturday was no exception.
We then decided to have lunch at a restaurant next to the bookstore. New to us, The Kenwood Cafe may now be our favorite brunch spot. I had eggs cocotte with mushrooms and spinach and a shaved black truffle on top. Delicious. We stacked our books on the banquette and talked about summer landscaping plans and also the idea of adding some built-in bookcases in the sun porch, which we call the snuggery. Good easy talk.
We ambled our way home along Lake Street, a street of many worlds and much to explore. And every variety of restaurant. We noted some for our "must try" list.
Finally, home. Bruce headed to the bedroom to take a nap, and I settled into the snuggery to finish the book I had been reading, The Marriage of Opposites by Alice Hoffman. http://alicehoffman.com/books/the-marriage-of-opposites/synopsis/ I am quite sure this novel will go on my year-end "favorites" list, even though it is only March.
The rest of the day included some ironing, fixing dinner of salmon and our favorite pea salad, and also fresh strawberries, and then watching some television. It was just one of those easy, happy, companionable days. A gift.
But here's the thing. Sometimes you have to go after the gift or create the gift. We decided to live the day mindfully, to be present to each other, to be present to ourselves, to be present to the life around us.
Every day is a gift, if that is the way you choose to live it.
An Invitation
What does the gift of a day look like to you? I would love to know.
We needed to park several blocks away from the site of our caucus meeting, amazed and delighted to see the throngs of people gathering to be part of our political process. Apparently, that was the case all over Minnesota Tuesday night, and although I would have preferred a Clinton victory, how good it is to know people care enough to uphold the rights and responsibilities of citizenship in this country.
By working in this manner,
for the sake of the land and the people
to be in vital relation
with each other,
we will have life,
and it will continue.
Simon Ortiz
Last night as I looked at the long line of people from our neighborhood waiting to register and then vote, I thought about all the times I took our young children with me when I voted. I wanted them to know this is something we do in this country. I am not a big activist, but there have been times over the years when I have written letters, stuffed envelopes, canvassed neighborhoods, marched in demonstrations, and made financial contributions. How fortunate I have felt to be able to participate in ways I choose and of my own free will.
Last night was clear evidence of a caring and committed people.
The time for healing of the wounds has come.
The time to build is upon us…
We pledge ourselves to liberate all people
from the continuing bondage of poverty, deprivation,
suffering, gender and discrimination…
There is no easy road to freedom…
None of us acting alone can achieve success.
We must therefore act together as a united people,
for reconciliation, for nation building,
for the birth of a new world.
Nelson Mandela
We may get tired of the hype and the rhetoric and the political ads, but last night was a reminder that we get to decide what we want this country to be now and in the future.
Who is fit to hold power
and worthy to act in God's place?
Those with a passion for the truth,
who are horrified by injustice,
who act with mercy to the poor
and take up the cause of the helpless,
who have let go of selfish concerns
and see the whole earth as sacred,
refusing to exploit her creatures
or to foul her waters and lands.
Their strength is in their compassion;
God's light shines through their hearts.
Their children's children will bless them,
and the work of their hands will endure.
Psalm 24 (version by Stephen Mitchell)
An Invitation
How will you engage in the political process in the coming months? I would love to know.
Ah, March. We made it through January and February. Winter has been relatively easy this year here in Minnesota, but still talk in the line at the grocery store and post office seems to revolve around an eagerness for spring. This is the time of the year when gardeners plot and plan, even though planting is yet months away. This is the time of the year when mittens are lost and heavy sweaters and coats look tired and dreary. We yearn, it seems, for green, for sprouts, for front step sitting, for asparagus and strawberries, instead of crock pot stews.
We are ready for change, for movement into another season.
The new season will appear, no matter what, but exactly when is out of our control. Eventually, however, there will be the first garage sales of the season, and there will be pussy willows and tulips. There will be umbrellas and rain boots and finally, finally, dry, brown Christmas wreaths and garland will be removed from front doors. And Easter will come, as it does every year -- this year in March. Early. Winter will change into spring.
But what change will you make in March? What change have you made this winter?
My favorite phrase these days is "Nothing changes if nothing changes." How obvious this is, like the title of John Kabat Zinn's book, Wherever You Go, There You Are or another favorite refrigerator magnet, "If you do what you've always done, you get what you've always gotten."
We have no choice but to wait for the new season, but that is not true of everything in our life. We can choose to live more mindfully. We can choose to let go of past hurts and regrets. We can choose to forgive ourselves and others. We can choose to experience each day as a sacred gift. We can choose to give more of ourselves. We can choose to say "yes" to what matters most to us and "no" to what matters most to someone else, but leaves us frustrated and over committed. We can choose to enlist help as we struggle with our demons, our closed doors, and our default responses.
We can choose to integrate a spiritual practice into our life and by doing so prepare for the inevitability of unwanted change.
I tend to hold onto winter for as long as I can. I love this time of hibernation, but, if I were to be truly candid, I might admit that delaying an acceptance of a new season is false security. I know in my soul the only time I have to change and become the person I was created to be is NOW. March 1 seems like a good day to start.
An Invitation
What change will you welcome into your life as you welcome the new season? I would love to know.
Last Sunday a friend and I presented a talk about mindfulness at church. We started by inviting the group to enter into the time and space with a brief breathing exercise by Thich Nhat Hanh:
Breathing in, I calm my body.
Breathing out, I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment,
I know this is a wonderful moment.
I invite you to breathe gently in and out as you read these words or say them to yourself. Feel any different?
The fullness of joy is to behold God in everything.
Julian of Norwich
As you look ahead to this day when could you pause for a mindfulness moment? For example, can you imagine standing at the door before leaving the house, and giving thanks for the gifts in your life? Can you imagine sending your loved ones off to their day with a blessing?
Where are the natural transitions in your day and how could you transition more mindfully?
Keep you heart in wonder at the daily miracles
of your life.
Kahlil Gibran
What are the obstacles in your life which prevent you from living more more mindfully? With greater awareness?
How we live our days is how we live our lives.
Annie Dillard
Today is Thankful Thursday, but every day includes an invitation to live and love mindfully.
Faithful Friday
Sacred Saturday
Sabbath Sunday
Mindful Monday
Tranquil Tuesday
Watchful Wednesday
An Invitation
When are you most mindful? I would love to know.
Since returning from vacation I have been in a state of preparation, presentations, and projects. For the most part I have been present to each task and event, but by Saturday I needed to pause.
I suggested to my husband that we drive to Wabasha, MN to the National Eagle Center, which is located on the banks of the Mississippi River. The water remains open there all year round, making it a natural gathering place for eagles in the winter time. The center houses non releasable bald and golden eagles and offers ongoing education programs to the public. http://www.nationaleaglecenter.org
We talked last winter about making this trip, but somehow it never happened. Saturday was a perfect day -- fairly mild temperature, occasional sun highlighting the bones of the bluffs along the river. The bare trees reminded me of porcupine quills poking up from the bare hills.
We had a two hawk and 15 eagle day, not counting the eagles we met at the center. Just imagine coming around a curve and seeing a tree with five eagles in it or having an eagle swoop down in front of your car, as we experienced, twirling and swirling, dancing in a private performance.
During the hour long presentation by an enthusiastic and knowledgeable naturalist, we not only were engrossed watching one of the center's eagles as he enjoyed his rabbit lunch, but we also learned so much about eagles. I was particularly intrigued to learn about how eagles molt or shed their feathers. The process happens over three years, one feather at a time. When a feather is shed from one side of the body, the next feather shed is in the same location on the other side of the body. In that way balance is maintained and so is their ability to fly.
There is a lesson there, I think. The importance of maintaining balance in our lives, but also the patience needed to achieve a needed change.
Native peoples view eagles as sacred, a symbol of Spirit, and they envision eagle carrying our prayers to the Creator God.
I had prayed earlier in the day that I might be able to set aside the tasks that were preoccupying my heart and mind. I prayed I could relax in the day and enjoy both my husband's company and the beauties we might encounter.
My prayers were answered, and the eagles were both the source and the means.
An Invitation
What feathers are you hoping to shed right now? Are you prepared to soar like an eagle?
Two stories.
1. Sunday morning, Valentine's Day, I head to the lower level to take a shower. I would have preferred to sleep in late this morning, but I am one of the presenters at adult forum between services at church, and we will go to the early service first. I have prepared my brief talk, a quick three minute one, and am not nervous, but nonetheless that is on my mind. I walk through the kitchen and down the stairs. I take my shower and dress and walking through the kitchen again, I return to the first floor bathroom where I put on my make-up.
Great--I have time for a bowl of cereal before we need to leave for church. It is then, only then, I notice something new in the kitchen, the teeny, tiny kitchen I have walked through twice already this morning. On the window sill over the sink are four small red pots filled with fluffy, fresh herbs. A Valentine's Day present from my forever Valentine. How could I have missed them?
2. Monday afternoon I get in the car to drive to a friend's apartment. We will meet to plan a talk on mindfulness we have been asked to give at church. Yes, mindfulness. As I drive the familiar Mississippi River Boulevard, cross the river on the Ford Parkway Bridge into Minneapolis and then turn towards Minnehaha Falls Park and the route I take when I drive to my father's apartment in Edina, I think about how much I love that drive. And about the intentional decision I made quite sometime ago to choose that route, although longer, rather than taking the freeway. The changing river, little traffic, beautiful old homes, trees and green space now covered in winter white. A mindful decision, until I realize my destination this afternoon is not my father's apartment, but Ruth's apartment. I needed to take a left in the park, instead of a right.
I laugh at myself and resolve once again to "begin again," as I think St Benedict said. I wasn't mindful. I wasn't present to the present moment, but I have yet another chance to begin again and to practice awareness. To wake up and be mindful.
Mindfulness is not mysterious or magical nor is it something one accomplishes and can check off one's life or bucket list. Every moment is another chance to practice.
In a way when we stir ourselves awake from a mindless moment, we are offered a gift. Now every time I walk into our kitchen, I smile at the cheery green herbs in their red pots and think about the considerate. loving nature of my Valentine. And the next time I drive the familiar route I suspect I will pay more attention to where I am going and what I am seeing. A good thing.
An Invitation
What has jolted you into a mindful moment recently? When have you realized you weren't mindful? I would love to know.
This is me unplugged. I am tucked under a beach towel on a windy day at one of Florida's sandy beaches. What do you look like when you are unplugged?
Our church has selected "unplugged" as the Lenten theme this year. We are encouraged to unplug from "things that interfere with our relationships and faithful priorities."
There are some obvious ways to unplug, even though they may not be easy to put into operation. For example, before our recent vacation time in Florida, I thought about how I wanted to unplug during that time. I decided to unplug from this blog for two weeks, and I told friends and family not to expect frequent email updates. I have some presence, but not much, on Facebook and decided that could be set aside as well.
I have a feeling, however, the invitation to unplug from what interferes with who we were created to be can lead us into a deeper dialogue with our hearts. In what more profound ways do I need to unplug? What am I holding onto that is begging for release? What about you?
I invite you to close your eyes lightly, not tightly and take a nice deep breath. Imagine standing in front of an electrical socket and holding onto a cord. The cord is attached to a long held belief, a regret, fear, or anxiety. Or perhaps an expectation of yourself or someone else. Even a routine, which you no longer recall the reason for establishing.
Name what needs to be released.
Take another deep breath and gently ease the plug from the socket where it has been held in place for a long time. Far too long. Continue to breathe. Pause in the stillness and the new space. Experience the freedom of movement you have when you are not shackled to that plug. Experience the movement of God within and around you as you discover the possibilities of new and creative life open to you.
Don't be scared. You can always plug back in. Unplugging is not an irreversible decision, although in some cases you may wish that were the case. But give yourself a chance to try out a new way of being.
An Invitation
What needs healing in your life? How would unplugging be a step towards mending the brokenness? I would love to know
I have nothing profound to say today. 
We then decided to have lunch at a restaurant next to the bookstore. New to us, The Kenwood Cafe may now be our favorite brunch spot. I had eggs cocotte with mushrooms and spinach and a shaved black truffle on top. Delicious. We stacked our books on the banquette and talked about summer landscaping plans and also the idea of adding some built-in bookcases in the sun porch, which we call the snuggery. Good easy talk. 
