Remembering What You Already Know

When was the last time you paused and took the time to be curious and observe children at play? Each person in the world is a teacher and there is something to be learned from everyone no matter what age or stage of life. I believe children are our greatest teachers – especially those around the age of four or five. Robert Fulghum highlighted this notion when he wrote his poem (and subsequent book) about kindergarten.

“Most of what I really need

to know about how to live

and what to do and how to be

I learned in kindergarten.”

Everything you need to know about being a fabulous, perfect YOU is already present in that early stage of life. As a little girl growing up in Oklahoma, I loved to skip around the block, ride the miniature roller coaster at my backyard kindergarten, hang out with puppies and kittens, eat ice cream, take naps, dress in sparkles and have permission to get dirty. I could ride my bike for hours without exhaustion because I loved it so much. Chalk was my favorite writing utensil and Tarzan and The Three Stooges brought me adventure and laughs. Road trips to the California beach and floating for hours on a raft in the middle of a peaceful lake still resonate. In fact, most of these things (or at least their essence) are where I find love and joy today. They are the things I know about living my life and being me—both then and now.

Several decades later, I still know it feels delicious to take a nap on a warm or rainy afternoon and there is sweetness in being gently awakened by someone I love. Sharing is delightful whether with a friend or stranger. Seeing a person’s face brighten is worth offering a lick of my ice cream cone, a seat on the bus, or a kind word. I also know it’s physically impossible to be angry while skipping. Doing something that elevates my heart rate with excitement and a touch of trepidation is worth the risk. Coming out on the other side and saying “I did it!” is one of the best sensations ever. Undertaking something risky each day brings living into life... and you get to decide what “risky” looks like for you.

We innately know what’s best for us (although it’s sometimes forgotten through years of poor habits and trying to follow everyone else’s advice). Our bodies know what is satisfying and nourishing... whether it’s cookies and milk after a lingering nap or gluten-free pizza and fresh garden veggies that comfort the soul.

An adult’s knowledge and a child’s wisdom are the perfect prescription for living life beautifully. Today, imagine what it might be like to nurture and trust the wisdom you instinctively knew as a healthy child. If you’re uncertain as to how or where to begin... Start slowly, be gentle with yourself, and explore...

·      Watch children at play.

·      Notice what you love and who makes you smile. Acknowledge generously.

·      Laugh every day.

·      Skip when angry. (If you find yourself in a situation where skipping isn’t immediately possible, then imagine doing it. The results are nearly as effective!)

·      Eat well. Dine when hungry. Stop when full. Ask what would best nourish you in the moment.

·      Move your body.

·      Claim peaceful moments.

·      Remember what you already know!

On Turning Thirteen...

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.” Rainer Maria Rilke

Inspired by a friend’s request to share my words of wisdom to her soon-to-be 13-year-old daughter, I decided to share a slightly expanded version of my letter here. As I began to write to my young friend, I realized that the message I would have wanted at her age was the same one I need to hear today. Learn to Trust Yourself.

Me @ 13

While I can’t remember exactly what it’s like to stand on the threshold of turning 13, I do recall it as a time of exhilaration and uncertainty with lots of questions. I remember being too afraid to ask the questions for fear of looking dumb. I’d like to say I was filled with curiosity about who I would become in the world and what great things I was capable of doing. I’d also like to tell you that I was brave and didn’t worry about what everybody else was doing... But, in reality, I was more concerned about how my hair looked and whether or not I’d blend in with the rest of the kids my age. [Hmmm... Thirteen or not, how might this still resonate today?]

What do I wish I had known at 13? As I said earlier, it’s the wisdom that grounds and motivates me today: Learning to Trust Myself! I grew up thinking everyone else had the answers to all my questions. But how could they when they were my questions and we each are prone to see things differently? Only I can decide what I like and what feels right for me [and the same goes for you]. It’s kind of like sharing clothes with other people. We come in all shapes, sizes, likes and dislikes, so it’s important to try on different things to see what makes us sparkle. That’s how we learn to trust ourselves. [If you are still learning to do this at your age (I know I am), then read on...]

Ask lots of questions, don’t be afraid to stand out, and explore boatloads of things to see what makes you a trustworthy You. Taste new foods. Listen to different music. Watch movies that none of your friends have seen. Learn a language. Travel to an unexplored destination. Revamp your wardrobe. Throw out what doesn’t fit. Keep what you love. Be curious and don’t be afraid if you don’t know the answers (even if the questions are Who am I or What do I like?) Keep asking and exploring.

My hunch is that you already have a pretty strong sense of who you are and what you like [although it might need a little refreshing], so Trust Yourself and you’ll never go wrong... And if things get confusing or you feel a little lost that’s okay, too. Blend in if you need to. Stand out when that feels good. Ask for help when you don’t know the way. Keep trying things on as you learn to trust and refine your perfect self! And if it helps... you can always pretend you’re standing on the threshold of adolescence.

Ponder this: What words of wisdom would you offer to a 13-year-old?

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 23

Dragonfly Wisdom

Dragonfly. Damselfly. You swoop into my world unannounced. Subtle. Natural. Compelling. Dancing across the silken pond, offering me respite from my restless perch. Witnessing you in your natural habitat, it's easy to dismiss your powerful medicine. Still, you persist on your quest as you serendipitously meet me in the gem store. One tiny bead buried in the midst of thousands, you place yourself within my hand and heart - a talisman of our magical first meeting. Still, I am slow and don't consciously take notice until finally while I repose upon my landlocked deck, you spontaneously arrive and perform your splendid show in my barren yard.

You come in threes and fours until I can ignore you no more. Showing up brilliantly alive, in a bead, a word, a wing. You draw me in and tell me I can fly. It's time to spread my wings and share your light. The rainbow of colors - clear, dark, iridescent, solid and clear. Reflections deep and pure.

Oh, sweet dragonfly - subtle and not so shy. Thank you for your persistent wisdom. Is it just me who takes so long to recognize and hear what lies right along my path?

Today's Ponder inspired by Helice B. "Animal Totems." Thanks, Helice!!

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people recover and nourish personal delight & joy in life.

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 20

Table of Truth

If I simply told my truth without caring if it's been told before or wondering whether it were special enough or too dark to reveal, I would write it all. The words would flow uncensored as I cherished and exposed the beauty, the broken, and the unseemly. I would offer both heartbreak and joy. I would not hold back nor would I overtly embellish. The prose would be raw, revealing and revelational. My truth would weave this brilliantly unique tapestry that is only me.

I would not compare or judge and wonder if every mother were critical or if other offspring had experienced tragedy. I would reveal my own ugliness without apology and my beauty and pain without permission. I would share the whole journey. I would speak of becoming an enraged woman who screeched into the face of a child. I would become the little child, muted with the crook of a finger and silenced by a commanding nod. I would write of mythical experiences and struggles with spirituality. I would acknowledge my deep faith and abolish the voice of tyranny. All tales would have their place. Each thread of color and strand of reality would be welcomed at the table of my truth.


Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people recover and nourish personal delight & joy in life.

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 17

Kingdom Come

Nestling into my throne of stone, I settle back and allow the earth to hold me. "Can you open and close the gate of heaven without clinging to earth?" the Tao te Ching whispers in my ear. Here I rest, planted in an oasis where heaven meets earth. My self-proclaimed mermaid chair carved out of ebony rock graciously embraces my dreamlike form. Scottish trees wave and rise in the midst of this high desert plateau. Dragonflies chase and tease across the cerulean-blue pond. They swoop and veer dangerously near the large-mouth bass that lurks beneath. If not planted in this solid seat, I, too, would magically arise and join the dragonflies in their dance. Or swim through the depths waving my mermaid tail. Painted on the same canvas, butterfly wings and buzzing bees beckon me to follow their lead. Be. Be still. Be beautiful. Be me.

Do I cling to this earth or am I opening the gates of heaven here in my repose? Are clinging and earthbound one in the same? Cannot the gates of heaven be seen through a dragonfly's wing? Is the bass' wide mouth a gateway, too? Is it possible to be on this earth and NOT be in heaven at the same time? Nestling into my majestic throne, I gratefully embrace this kingdom that has come.

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people recover and nourish
personal delight & joy in life.

Whidbey Island Wisdom

The cormorant perches on a half-submerged buoy, both floating in the transparent morning light – not sunny, not quite gray with a touch of gentle mist in the air. Ocean angel opens her wings and balances like a scene from The Karate Kid. What does Madame Cormorant say to me? Balance, my dear. It’s time to regain your balance.

Swallows chase playfully past the bedroom window – moving at such speed they threaten to bounce off the crystal clear glass separating our worlds. Oh, precious swallows what say you? Play. Play. Play. It’s the essential beat of your heart. Wait no longer to play. It is the air you live and breathe.

Waves rhythmically lap against the sandy shore – licking the wet gray sand with their gentle tongue, kissing the earth while holding floating fowl. Love, they whisper to me. Open your heart like the cormorant. Play with abandon like the swallows. Kiss the world with sweet compassion.

I just had the incredible pleasure of spending two days on Whidbey Island, dreaming and scheming with wonderful friends. Above is the view and wisdom the Island offered to me. May your days be filled with earthly wonder!

My Friend, Acedia

Oh my, I’ve had quite a few days. After reading Christine’s reflection early in the week, I realized I’ve been caught up in a bout of acedia (i.e. lack of desire or initiative.) Rather than sinking into it or being curious, I grumbled and complained about not feeling good or getting anything done. This managed to only feed the overall sense of blah and keep me from (surprise surprise) feeling good or getting anything done.

This morning something began to shift as I decided to have a conversation with my companion. It went something like this:

Me: Hello, Acedia. What do you have to teach me?
Acedia: Patience, faith and the ability to sit in discomfort.
Me: Oh. But, I like things to happen quickly. I am a fearless warrior. I like to step in and heal things – quickly. (Oh geez, I sound arrogant. Somehow thinking I’m magical and believing I’m in control. My Ego is operating on high. )

Me: Hello, Acedia. What else have you got?
Acedia: I’m here to humble you. To let you taste that place of despair.
Me: Yuk, and?
Acedia: You haven’t been there in awhile, but you are not immune. All your tricks and magic won’t keep you from feeling pain and despair. It’s time to make peace with me and stop battling. Do you not see the risk? The more you battle, the stronger my hold becomes.
Me: Hmmm. Very interesting.

Then Acedia and I had a little conversation about the should’s. Beginning with the thought of “I should know better”. Having done tons of therapy, practicing as a therapist/life coach/spiritual director and overall being a pretty grounded and solid person, I have somehow convinced myself I shouldn't have bad days or make mistakes. (How realistic is that?!?!?). Thinking the thought of “I should know better”, I felt the weight of responsibility and the amount of EGO attached to it. It leaves me trying to do other people’s work for them AND messing around in God's business. It takes me totally away from the business of caring for myself. When I let go of the thought, "I should know better", I burst out laughing as I realized what a total mind-game that is... Geez Louise.

Using Byron Katie's technique of the Turnaround, my thought shifted something like this, and with it, the acedia lifted:

I shouldn't know better... Whew! I can only know what I know.

I do know better... I have everything I need and I can see it when I get out of my own way.

God knows best... I'm part of the Universe (God) and it takes all parts - the space - the light - the dark - the "mistakes" – the acedia – the fearlessness – the glory - ALL of it – to create a whole human being.

It appears I need to keep learning these lessons over and over again. Ain’t life grand?

Robin's Song

I awoke feeling a little restless today. Kind of excited and a bit overwhelmed. That’s what sometimes happens when life presents so many full possibilities – ranging from new creative adventures to curling up with my Lenten readings.

While sitting at my desk just now, I caught sight of a glorious robin sitting at the tip top of a barren tree. She takes my breath away as I hear her song across the rumble of a school bus and the music playing gently in the background of my room. Her wings flap and I see the brilliant orange of her chest. Ahhh. Breathe. One. Two. Three. Four. I am here now.

A friend wrote me last week about a robin that’s been banging on her window whenever she tries to sleep or read in her room. My friend was not quite as enamored with her robin and was considering homicide (due to sleep deprivation). I encouraged her to not shoot the bird as it might be a sign of new growth in her life.

When I revisited Animal Speak this morning these words for robin showed up:

“The song of the robin is a cheery, rolling trill. Part of its purpose is to help the robin establish territory… This is very significant when robin shows up in your life… it reflects a need to sing your own song forth if you wish for new growth. Any confrontations or hindrances are more show than actual threats, so go forward.”

Oh my, there’s the call of the fierce warrior yet again. Breathe. One. Two. Three. Four. I am here now.

Where are you being called to sing your own song? Can you offer it with a cheery rolling, trill like the robin?

© robin's song 3.29.11

Lenten Pilgrimage

Somehow the season of Lent allows me to sink more deeply into listening, waiting and letting go. Delightful themes and synchronistic opportunities have presented themselves abundantly and the journey has barely begun. As I mentioned in my last post, I had the beautiful opportunity of physically going on pilgrimage to the desert last fall. In conjunction with that trip, my fabulous guide invited me to write a short article for an upcoming website. It was indeed a delight when Christine @ Abbey of the Arts then invited the Lenten pilgrims to answer this question:

How have great pilgrimages and journeys brought you to a new insight about your daily life?

Today, I am pleased to share the words I had already penned for my Sapira friend.

Pilgrimage calls us to find that which is essential. We learn through preparation and packing for the journey. Along the way, we explore what nourishes us through feast of eyes, body and soul. Necessity changes shape as normal routines drift away. Paring down and moving toward simplicity, a sense timelessness envelops those who dare to step into the unknown.

Having participated in three intentional journeys (two of them with Sapira), I have come to know more of myself, and the world as a whole, through these travels. To fully enter a pilgrimage is to take off your shoes and stand on Holy ground. My toes have curled in the chilling loam of Ireland and danced across the swirling sands of the Sinai. My heart has opened by stepping into the gentle rhythms of the pilgrim’s clock. Pilgrimage is like walking an ancient labyrinth – each step intentional with no straight pathway – moving toward center and then returning back into the world with heart and soul forever changed.

My blessings envelop each of you who stops by this place. My hope is you will move more deeply toward your own center during this Lenten season and return back into the world with your heart and soul forever changed.

Peace.

Quiet Voice of Wisdom

The season of Lent begins today with Ash Wednesday. Words like surrender, sabbath, and begin again greet me with the journey. Step by step I inquire where I'm going. Today happens to be a day with a bit more spaciousness surrounding me. While I have lots to do, I don't have any "official" meetings scheduled so I am able to slow down and listen more deeply. For some reason a great scene from the book Eat, Pray, Love keeps coming to my mind. (btw - the scene is in the movie, but doesn't do the book justice) In the passage, Elizabeth Gilbert has her first intentional meeting with God. As she waits for wisdom in a time of crisis, she hears the simple words, "Go back to bed, Liz." This scene is so profound for me, because that is how I often experience the still small voice of wisdom.

Today's quiet has offered direction moment by moment: read this, write that, shower now, rest, fix dinner, sit, rest, and so on. When asked a question offered by Abbey of the Arts, these words arose:

What is the grace I am seeking this Holy season?

Surrender to the voices of Sabbath.
Let the timelessness was over you.
Trust. Laugh. Love more.
Rest and restore.

What is your still small voice inviting today? What grace are you seeking this season?