Roll out the chesnuts, the warm ones we hold and the verbal ones we speak. It's Thanksgiving Day in the United States, arguably the most American of holidays, and some would add, a cliche factory of enormous output.
An "attitude of gratitude," recovering folks and others suggest, is a perfect counter balance to cynicism, discouragement and despair. Those last attitudes certainly have plenty of evidence to commend them, especially in times of economic hardship for many, and ongoing poverty and diminished possibilities for many others.
How, exactly, does it make any sense to be grateful for being unemployed? Being sick? Being away from loved ones on a holiday like so many men and women in the military overseas? Being in a hospital with a gravely ill child? Does God (or Something) play favorites? What's it all about, Alfie? Even if Alfie had a clue, should he or we be grateful? How?
Also, if one is uncertain or wavering or downright hostile about to whom (Whom?) one gives thanks, does it make any sense to simply be grateful?
I think it does. I would list my wife, our children and grandchildren, friends, colleagues, a home, a car, health, breath, work, and the great world of trees, water, woods and oceans all around us. It's certainly feels emotionally positive to call those things and so much more to mind. I feel calmer and feeling grateful about those things seems to balance out the sorrows, the disappointments and the sometimes terrible things that happen in this imperfect world.
In my experience, there are gifts in the rubble, positives arising out of the hard times and setbacks. Years ago, at the height of the AIDS epidemic (just before the cocktail of meds gave so many longer life, many still with us, thank God), I worked at a Brooklyn hospital where people with that illness and their caretakers came for support. They taught me that a single meal digested without upchucking was a treasure. That an uninterrupted night's sleep or just an hour of unlabored breathing could be more precious than any gold.
Yeah, it makes sense to find things to be grateful for, and to find a way to express and feel that. There can be moments of light in the darkness, and wonderful gifts beyond hope that can arise from the saddest of circumstances. You and I would not be who we are without every single bit of our life. And we can certainly give thanks for who we are, perfectly imperfect as we are.
Happy thanks giving.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
11 Questions - Part 2
I'm writing this looking out at the wonderful big maple tree that shades part of our deck and one side of our house. This tree is one active nature factory. Its budding and seeding and leafing work goes on year 'round, producing shade, some great late fall yellow color, and beaucoup leaves that demand attention as they are the last leaves to fall as winter heads toward us. The leaves eventually end up at our recycling center where they get mixed in with other yard debris to make free community mulch for next year. As I typed that last sentence, about a hundred of the yellow leaves made their way to the ground. Just beautiful, and full of truth about life, loss, change and renewal. Thanks are in order
We're continuing a two-part discussion on open-ended questions that might evoke some of our deepest principles, values and outlooks, in another word, our spirituality. I've already received some really interesting responses to the first set. Please feel free to add your answers and reactions. I'd love to see if these questions move you. They moved me, and have helped me and others get to that place inside us where spirit and power live.
6. What quality do people admire in you? Do you see the same?
7. When you see a sunrise or sunset or a similar beauty in the natural world, what happens inside you?
8. What does it mean for you to Do the Right Thing?
9. Where in your body do trouble and challenge make themselves felt? Can you describe the sensations?
10. What sources of guidance, inspiration or consolation have been important to you over the years? And now.....?
11. What's been the most important event of your life?
Bonus question: what sayings do you regularly use? (Examples: "It is what it is," "life goes on," "Everything happens for a reason," and "Living well is the best revenge!")
There's a Sting song, "Love is the Seventh Wave," that resonates for me especially in the tag line, "There is a deeper wave than this," and that's the wave of the title. What if love (or Love) were at the heart of it all? What difference would that make to me? to the world?
I think what I'm getting at is that my meaning, my spirituality is found inside my life, not outside of it....... I just need to look, ask my own questions, and share other's answers as well as my own.
Life speaks.
We're continuing a two-part discussion on open-ended questions that might evoke some of our deepest principles, values and outlooks, in another word, our spirituality. I've already received some really interesting responses to the first set. Please feel free to add your answers and reactions. I'd love to see if these questions move you. They moved me, and have helped me and others get to that place inside us where spirit and power live.
6. What quality do people admire in you? Do you see the same?
7. When you see a sunrise or sunset or a similar beauty in the natural world, what happens inside you?
8. What does it mean for you to Do the Right Thing?
9. Where in your body do trouble and challenge make themselves felt? Can you describe the sensations?
10. What sources of guidance, inspiration or consolation have been important to you over the years? And now.....?
11. What's been the most important event of your life?
Bonus question: what sayings do you regularly use? (Examples: "It is what it is," "life goes on," "Everything happens for a reason," and "Living well is the best revenge!")
There's a Sting song, "Love is the Seventh Wave," that resonates for me especially in the tag line, "There is a deeper wave than this," and that's the wave of the title. What if love (or Love) were at the heart of it all? What difference would that make to me? to the world?
I think what I'm getting at is that my meaning, my spirituality is found inside my life, not outside of it....... I just need to look, ask my own questions, and share other's answers as well as my own.
Life speaks.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
11 Questions - Part 1
One of the main reasons I've undertaken this blog is because I'm tired of a lot of the language that traditional religious and spiritual writing uses. Such words often seem tiresome, overused or emptied out of feeling or soul. The words lack heart. I think life's too short for that.
Fresh language about the deeper things of life is always getting made or spoken, but we're so close, we often miss the depth. For me, one great source of such new language is poetry. Whether your taste runs to Anne Sexton, T.S. Eliot or Amiri Baraka, poets seem to just get it about connection and meaning. They give us some original ways to see and touch and feel our world, inside and out.
"There lives the dearest freshness deep down things," wrote poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, whom no one could accuse of writing trite words or tiresome images. Our experience of life, deep down, is much more immediate and strong and new(at least to us) to be captured in cliched words or exhausted images.
My hunch is that a lot of us spend more time picking out just the right greeting card than working to find the words to express or communicate our most important experiences and feelings. By reading this and thinking about such issues, you've already begun to do it differently. Here's a set of questions I've used with people to help them discover at least some elements of their unique spirituality. Have some fun with them!
1. What song (or novel, biography, play, film, kid's book, piece of art etc.) has a special place in your heart? Why?
2. Name a few people you admire, inside and outside of family & friends. Say why.
3. Look at a time you've overcome a difficult event or situation in your life. What got you through? What were the gifts in that hard time?
4. Do you ever have a sense of gratitude for your life? What are you grateful for?
5. If there were a novel or film made about your family, what would be the themes?
To be continued
Fresh language about the deeper things of life is always getting made or spoken, but we're so close, we often miss the depth. For me, one great source of such new language is poetry. Whether your taste runs to Anne Sexton, T.S. Eliot or Amiri Baraka, poets seem to just get it about connection and meaning. They give us some original ways to see and touch and feel our world, inside and out.
"There lives the dearest freshness deep down things," wrote poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, whom no one could accuse of writing trite words or tiresome images. Our experience of life, deep down, is much more immediate and strong and new(at least to us) to be captured in cliched words or exhausted images.
My hunch is that a lot of us spend more time picking out just the right greeting card than working to find the words to express or communicate our most important experiences and feelings. By reading this and thinking about such issues, you've already begun to do it differently. Here's a set of questions I've used with people to help them discover at least some elements of their unique spirituality. Have some fun with them!
1. What song (or novel, biography, play, film, kid's book, piece of art etc.) has a special place in your heart? Why?
2. Name a few people you admire, inside and outside of family & friends. Say why.
3. Look at a time you've overcome a difficult event or situation in your life. What got you through? What were the gifts in that hard time?
4. Do you ever have a sense of gratitude for your life? What are you grateful for?
5. If there were a novel or film made about your family, what would be the themes?
To be continued
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Morning Walk
I take a walk at least four mornings a week, sometimes more. I walk at six am for about forty five minutes, and tend to walk fast enough to generate some sweat and heat. Most mornings I walk with my friend, Bob, and we talk. Other mornings I'm alone with my thoughts, what some would say is dangerous company, indeed.
Walking in the summer I usually get the full-on sunrise and that's a rich time for thinking and appreciating the great world we're given to experience. The light that builds on such mornings on the South Fork of Long Island is famous in art circles; the surrounding ocean and other waters act like reflective mirrors of the sun, making the quality of the air feel rare, even magical. Add the sometimes loud and fierce colors of sunrise and it's a potent sight for artists and appreciators alike.,
But these days, in the dark, it's different. I wear a runner's reflective vest for safety, and also carry a small, bright flashlight whose light swings as I walk. I pass country fields, an old potato barn, and some newer homes in what used to be potato fields. I walk fast enough to catch the sight of the 6:18 train hurtling across a big farm field, the coaches' interior lights sparkling impressively in the dark morning.
This morning, right after the train passed and I turned around for home, I was deep in some random thought and got startled by a noise. First thought, deer. Second thought, dog. Neither thought was welcome, and I was, frankly, anxious.
It turned out to be a neighbor out walking a very small dog in the dark. I laughed and so did the neighbor when I told him what I first thought. "This one," he said, meaning the dog, "would probably lick you to death!"
I walked on down the road grateful and relieved and a little embarrassed inside at being spooked so easily. As I calmed down, a few things occurred to me. It was nice to meet the neighbor and his dog out walking like I was. Out of the dark came a connection, however brief, that felt welcome. And that thought and feeling led to some gratitude for a body that can move,
and some eyes, ears and skin for taking the morning in. Even when I feel alone, and in the dark, life surprises me.
Walking in the summer I usually get the full-on sunrise and that's a rich time for thinking and appreciating the great world we're given to experience. The light that builds on such mornings on the South Fork of Long Island is famous in art circles; the surrounding ocean and other waters act like reflective mirrors of the sun, making the quality of the air feel rare, even magical. Add the sometimes loud and fierce colors of sunrise and it's a potent sight for artists and appreciators alike.,
But these days, in the dark, it's different. I wear a runner's reflective vest for safety, and also carry a small, bright flashlight whose light swings as I walk. I pass country fields, an old potato barn, and some newer homes in what used to be potato fields. I walk fast enough to catch the sight of the 6:18 train hurtling across a big farm field, the coaches' interior lights sparkling impressively in the dark morning.
This morning, right after the train passed and I turned around for home, I was deep in some random thought and got startled by a noise. First thought, deer. Second thought, dog. Neither thought was welcome, and I was, frankly, anxious.
It turned out to be a neighbor out walking a very small dog in the dark. I laughed and so did the neighbor when I told him what I first thought. "This one," he said, meaning the dog, "would probably lick you to death!"
I walked on down the road grateful and relieved and a little embarrassed inside at being spooked so easily. As I calmed down, a few things occurred to me. It was nice to meet the neighbor and his dog out walking like I was. Out of the dark came a connection, however brief, that felt welcome. And that thought and feeling led to some gratitude for a body that can move,
and some eyes, ears and skin for taking the morning in. Even when I feel alone, and in the dark, life surprises me.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Costumes & Candy
Halloween seems to mean two major things to most people -- costumes and candy.
The costume part probably has many ancient origins. In medieval Europe, All Hallows Eve was a time to scare and keep away the spirits of evil just lurking to get the pious unaware folks. Today, we just love the fun of it. Dressing up as a comically scary, growling pirate, a sexy maid, or a bloody ghoul delights the kid part of us. It's also fun to be temporarily not "ourselves," that image we're so careful to protect. We love to break out and pretend, if only for one night, that we're really different from the person our daily clothes say we are.
Now, candy, that's the part of Halloween that gets us salivating. Candy sales in October are off the chart. Not just kids, but adults, too, look forward to consuming mass quantities of the stuff. Many a child has probable cause to indict her parents for raiding the candy haul after she went off to bed following Trick or Treating. Shame on us -- I mean them -- no, I did it, too. "Where are all the good ones, like Baby Ruth or Snickers?" they would ask. We'd clam up and keep silently repeating,"never admit, never apologize. "After all, we rationalized, they had so much.
Many spiritual traditions ask us to look at what we crave. What we desire and how we desire it (sometimes "inordinately" as my Jesuit profs used to suggest) are great markers for our spiritual condition. The Buddha said that desire is the root of all suffering. He probably had in mind the ancient Indian equivalent of a dark chocolate Hershey's Kiss or a Chunky.
The serious point is that I can be free of a lot of pain and distress if I can check my greed for anything. Wear the world like a loose garment. Hold on to stuff with loose hands. Enjoy, but try not to let anything own me. Savor, of course, but let go of attachment.
Now, if I could just shake that jones for a dark chocolate Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.
The costume part probably has many ancient origins. In medieval Europe, All Hallows Eve was a time to scare and keep away the spirits of evil just lurking to get the pious unaware folks. Today, we just love the fun of it. Dressing up as a comically scary, growling pirate, a sexy maid, or a bloody ghoul delights the kid part of us. It's also fun to be temporarily not "ourselves," that image we're so careful to protect. We love to break out and pretend, if only for one night, that we're really different from the person our daily clothes say we are.
Now, candy, that's the part of Halloween that gets us salivating. Candy sales in October are off the chart. Not just kids, but adults, too, look forward to consuming mass quantities of the stuff. Many a child has probable cause to indict her parents for raiding the candy haul after she went off to bed following Trick or Treating. Shame on us -- I mean them -- no, I did it, too. "Where are all the good ones, like Baby Ruth or Snickers?" they would ask. We'd clam up and keep silently repeating,"never admit, never apologize. "After all, we rationalized, they had so much.
Many spiritual traditions ask us to look at what we crave. What we desire and how we desire it (sometimes "inordinately" as my Jesuit profs used to suggest) are great markers for our spiritual condition. The Buddha said that desire is the root of all suffering. He probably had in mind the ancient Indian equivalent of a dark chocolate Hershey's Kiss or a Chunky.
The serious point is that I can be free of a lot of pain and distress if I can check my greed for anything. Wear the world like a loose garment. Hold on to stuff with loose hands. Enjoy, but try not to let anything own me. Savor, of course, but let go of attachment.
Now, if I could just shake that jones for a dark chocolate Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
How Are You?
One of the joys (and burdens) of my work as a counselor is that I get to have conversations with people. "How are you?" can bring out a simple log of mundane activities or a heartfelt, "where do I begin?" that leads deep into that person's and my own listening heart.
Benedict of Nursia, yes the saint, told his followers in The Rule to "listen with the ears of your heart," a wonderful invitation. How loved do I feel when I get it that someone has really heard me? Very much, obviously. Imagine a world where really being heard was not unusual!
In a recent conversation with one of Benedict's followers, he recounted the story of an ex-con speaking at a fundraising dinner for two "Dismas Houses," places where released inmates could live and transition back into the community. The man asked the supporters to imagine what it meant to be greeted with a handshake or looked at like a human being and not as a threat or as prey.
We are starved for close connection in our world. That ex-prisoner is each of us, making our way back from the things that shackle us or keep us separated from the rest of the world or from our own deep selves. To be listened to and really heard is an experience of grace and a glimpse of a world where all can be well.
Make a difference today. Listen to someone. Or, just as importantly, be listened to. Both things are bread for hungry hearts.
Benedict of Nursia, yes the saint, told his followers in The Rule to "listen with the ears of your heart," a wonderful invitation. How loved do I feel when I get it that someone has really heard me? Very much, obviously. Imagine a world where really being heard was not unusual!
In a recent conversation with one of Benedict's followers, he recounted the story of an ex-con speaking at a fundraising dinner for two "Dismas Houses," places where released inmates could live and transition back into the community. The man asked the supporters to imagine what it meant to be greeted with a handshake or looked at like a human being and not as a threat or as prey.
We are starved for close connection in our world. That ex-prisoner is each of us, making our way back from the things that shackle us or keep us separated from the rest of the world or from our own deep selves. To be listened to and really heard is an experience of grace and a glimpse of a world where all can be well.
Make a difference today. Listen to someone. Or, just as importantly, be listened to. Both things are bread for hungry hearts.
Peanut Butter and Jelly
I like a good peanut butter and jelly sandwich. On a dense multigrain bread, spread with a natural crunchy peanut (or almond) butter and a good jelly or jam. Always the added kick of tabasco sauce to delight my mouth. I have it with a cup of a coffee, a lemonade or just cold water. If I'm calm enough (a rare thing), I eat the sandwich slowly, savoring the bites. If I'm really awake (even rarer), I gratefully think of the chain of people who contributed to this sandwich, this drink, and the home or work space where I'm enjoying it. Once in a while I even remember to say grace. Oops. Busted.
Part of the reason for this project is that many people don't find traditional spiritual words or the communities that use them very important. And it seems to me that something may be missing that's worth looking for. Maybe at Christmas or the high holidays we connnect a little with our childhood religious "homes," or when we do the rituals around someone's wedding or funeral. "I'll say a prayer for you," can sound odd or quaint, but touching coming from friends or colleagues. Still, the religious section in the greeting card aisle keeps shrinking.
So where do we go? What do we do, if anything, to deal with the big and little things in life which religion once seemed to cover so naturally. Where do we find meaning? Love? Depth? Commemoration? Comfort? Hope?
I start from where I am. A simple meal like that sandwich connects me to the whole world, the whole universe really. Just letting the chatter in me wind down for a moment allows me to get things like connection or significance, experience them and not just think about them. Going deeper, if my nervous, distracted spirit allows, can help me start to notice things, outside in, inside out. I look. I am aware. I listen for the sounds and for the silences between the sounds. I wonder.....what? Not just wonder about or if, but just wonder, ponder. Wow, that sounds stuffy, but it feels true.
Here's a good question to open myself: what delights me? Maybe it's the smile of a lover or friend or baby. The antics of a dog desperate for me to pay attention and play. A kid who rolls her eyes at some grownup bit of foolishness of mine. Evening descending over a city or town. A piece of New Orleans jazz or Louisiana zydeco. The taste of a really fresh salad. If I can be delighted by such things, the deeper parts of me don't seem so far away.
My spirit, that deeper part of me, is alive so long as my heart can soften enough to notice and ponder a little. Eating a good PB&J mindfully is a place to start.
Part of the reason for this project is that many people don't find traditional spiritual words or the communities that use them very important. And it seems to me that something may be missing that's worth looking for. Maybe at Christmas or the high holidays we connnect a little with our childhood religious "homes," or when we do the rituals around someone's wedding or funeral. "I'll say a prayer for you," can sound odd or quaint, but touching coming from friends or colleagues. Still, the religious section in the greeting card aisle keeps shrinking.
So where do we go? What do we do, if anything, to deal with the big and little things in life which religion once seemed to cover so naturally. Where do we find meaning? Love? Depth? Commemoration? Comfort? Hope?
I start from where I am. A simple meal like that sandwich connects me to the whole world, the whole universe really. Just letting the chatter in me wind down for a moment allows me to get things like connection or significance, experience them and not just think about them. Going deeper, if my nervous, distracted spirit allows, can help me start to notice things, outside in, inside out. I look. I am aware. I listen for the sounds and for the silences between the sounds. I wonder.....what? Not just wonder about or if, but just wonder, ponder. Wow, that sounds stuffy, but it feels true.
Here's a good question to open myself: what delights me? Maybe it's the smile of a lover or friend or baby. The antics of a dog desperate for me to pay attention and play. A kid who rolls her eyes at some grownup bit of foolishness of mine. Evening descending over a city or town. A piece of New Orleans jazz or Louisiana zydeco. The taste of a really fresh salad. If I can be delighted by such things, the deeper parts of me don't seem so far away.
My spirit, that deeper part of me, is alive so long as my heart can soften enough to notice and ponder a little. Eating a good PB&J mindfully is a place to start.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)