New Dawn, New Day

Last night, just before early bed, I read a friends caring bridge journal entry: making great strides on a recent-onset debilitating illness, she wrote of seeing what life she can build with what she can still do.  I was humbled; clearly her eye is on opportunity, not just on limitation.  She is facing, and embracing, the challenge of remaking her life.

This morning, waking in early light, lime green covers strewn about, an inner call stirred, demanding that I get up.  Not sure what or why, I sensed it was a moment to say yes.

Finding vertical, I was greeted by a golden ripple of cloud filling the eastern sky, bouncing dream light up off the awakening lake.  Sun radiated through the glowing mass of clouds and connected with rain clouds downstream, setting off rainbows lifting from the lake.

Snuggling in my host’s fleece jacket, wrapping a beach towel over my bare legs, I grabbed my camera and headed for the dock.

Standing there, surrounded by light, I listened. What else did the knowing that pulled me awake have to say?   “Do not be afraid.”

Writing now, wind lifts fresh curls off the waves as dawn flows into day, and the lightest shower eases in, giving moisture to this breath of air, this message feels like:  Learn to write with abandon once again.  This whole glorious cacophony of light and wonder is at your back.  Set yourself free.

What else could one long for, than this aliveness, this beauty, this now?

Yes to listening.  Yes to honoring that voice within that leads with precision, pulling from slumber of all kinds.  Yes to remaking our lives in this changing world, facing, and embracing, whatever challenges emerge along the way.

“When it’s over, I want to say I have been a bride married to amazement, I’ve been a bridegroom taking the world into my arms.” – Mary Oliver

Tonight, I stepped outside after my first yoga class in twenty years.  I had opened tight places I did not even know I had.  As I left the studio, I was relieved that I could still walk!

What really caught my attention though, as I stretched my limbs out the door into this far northern night: stars. A whole sky–full.

Our gorgeous north Idaho summers succumb to long winters of clouds. Our ski mountain loves the snow, but I miss that deeply expansive sight of night sky.

Maybe it was 90 minutes of intense yoga. (I’m in great shape. I looked at the class schedule and forgot my twenty years away…)
Maybe it was the two weeks that have passed since I last saw a sky full of stars. (Here in our remote county, when there are no clouds, we truly see stars. There are many more stars than people… or lights to block the night sky!)
Maybe it was too-long winter hibernation.

I don’t know what it was.

But I do know what happened as I stepped outside, seeing the Big Dipper, Orion, the Pleiades, and the other Winter constellations:
I did not feel like I was 120 +/- odd lbs, standing on a cold stab of north Idaho sidewalk.
Instead, I felt as wide as that sky.

I felt as if time stretched back to my earliest memories of stars…night sailing off Cape Cod, my family singing lullabies….

And my strongest memories… sleeping river-side, sleeping bags encrusted in silvery frost, under endless stars on the cactus-bound Mexican border …

or my favorite memories… tracing winter constellations among the green and pink swirls of northern nights, on the Canadian border, as sled dogs slept, nose under tail…

It was as if, in that moment, all those times, and all those places, existed, all at once.

If I had a label, it would be mystical.

In that moment, I felt the whole wide universe welcomed me. I felt completely Home. I felt, in every cell, as if I belonged.

I’m not complaining… and I will go back for more yoga!

What helps you know, in your bones, that you belong?

We know simply that nothing is static, nothing is absolutely predictable, and nothing is certain.

L. Robert Keck, Sacred Quest

Last night, I flunked fire duty.

On retreat with 8 other women in the pine-filled hills of eastern Washington, I was positioned for my favorite role; sleeping by the wood stove and stoking it periodically through the night.

I flunked. I slept right through. But it was worth it. This morning, small flakes of snow filling the pine expanse outside, I got to watch someone else lay and attempt to light the fire, and I knew, in that moment, that another “fire lighting as life” blog post would be born.

Here’s why.

Well-meaning but not used to lighting a fire without paper or other fire-starter, she laid all the kindling and wood in place, lit the match, and then…. hoped.

Luckily, she was open to help; using the spark of flame she had started, I patiently fed slivers of wood right into the openings of flame and air, until we had enough flame for her pre-laid wood to catch….

There was this poignant moment though, watching her newly lit flame, with nothing to burn, nothing to engage.

Many of us lay a fire as we build a life; we get all the pieces in place, all the plans and dreams all lined up, then we light the match, and expect the fire to feed itself…. The life, the dreams, the plans to bloom.

Yet, to what degree is life truly like that?

When our fire-building supplies are plentiful, when we are truly skillful and have mastery over our materials, we can build the fire this way… lay all the pieces in one place and trust the upwards flow to catch carefully placed materials into flame.

Think back five years, ten years, twenty. What delightful surprises exist in your life now that were not even on your radar back then?

When we live in the present moment, we can notice everything. We can appreciate all that is good, all the new possibilities that we can kindle into new fires. We can feed our dreams. Some lay dormant for years… waiting for the moment to ignite.

Today, wake up. Look around at your life.

What new possibility is waiting to be born???

“The most important thing to remember is this; to be ready at any moment to give up what you are for what you might become.” 
—W.E.B. Dubois

“Your work is to discover your world and then with all your heart give yourself to it.”

Buddha

In my north Idaho January grey, with its subtle beauty and stunted daylight, flame becomes my lifeline to the sun. When I take the time, I build my woodstove fire as I aspire to live my life:

I mindfully choose slivers from wood I have split, with full attention, and just one match. I best align flame and fuel, and lovingly feed just the right wood into just the right opening to coax flame into fire.

No fire starter, no newspaper. This method takes presence, gentleness, and patience. With that first tiny tongue of flame, my full attention reveals to me where to place the next piece for maximum gain.

Stewarding the smallest flame into full bloom in this way connects me with the primal force of fire itself. It also connects me with hope. Through the power of attention and full presence, so very much is possible.

This morning, I lit my fire my preferred way. I feel more alive, and more grateful.

I wonder where else in my life, in my urge for speed, am I missing fuller, deeper satisfaction. What about you?

To live this way, this slower, deeper, richer way, I need to step back, explore my life, and choose: what will build the best fire in me? Where do my passions lie? What do I care about now? What does the world need? Just as flame and fuel come together to create a bigger fire, I have found the same is true for me; the better I can align my passions and gifts with my sense of what is needed in the world, the brighter I become.

As humans, we have this unique ability to vision something, to lay the foundations, and nurture our vision into reality. We have the ability to lead, learn, and grow.

A newly lit fire can easily be suffocated under too much fuel. Too often though, we suffocate our dreams under the weight of our past.

To help you re-kindle your own flame, consider:

What will help you step back, reflect, and listen to your own heart? What can you do to create an oasis of calm in which to connect deeply within yourself?

Who is the deepest part of you? “Who is the you that you have left behind in the midst of all your responsibilities?” Describe who that person is.

When have you been most deeply satisfied in your life? Felt most alive? Most powerful? Most Connected? Most creative? Most at peace?

What do these answers reveal about your deep nature?

When you live from your deep nature, what calls to you? What is “your world” that you are discovering?

“At your core, you know who you are,

and you know what you want.”

Lao Tzu

“Individuality rises out of the soul as water rises out of the depths of the earth.”  Thomas Moore

Early in 2009, inspired by commitment to adventure and inner journeying by other friends, I took a deep breath, and planned: 10 days of solo paddling and camping in my spiritual home – the deep north woods of Ontario’s Quetico wilderness.

Why? Partially, to celebrate one year of independence, having completed a collaborative divorce (yes, this is possible) the year before, and one year of growing healthy inter-dependence with friends.

But honestly, I did not know why. I knew that deep solitude, was what I longed for. I wanted a chance to re-connect deeply within me, and with the world. A chance to let go of all the places I was still holding… still holding onto the life I had planned…. a chance to deeply accept the unacceptable. A chance to heal.

Before I went, I was nervous. If I injured myself in the wilds, and could not travel, it could be days or weeks before I’d be found. While competent paddling solo, I’d never paddled the small lightweight solo canoe I’d be paired with – I felt like I was going off to meet a mail-order bride!

So, despite my fears, what helped me go?

Luckily, I was not afraid of being lonely. I love the company of pine trees, loons, and night skies. I was eager to be out – my aloneness leaving no barriers between me and life.

I could remind myself that I knew what I was doing. For I truly did.

The pivotal moment though, in the see-saw of obligations and fears vs. longing and inner knowing, was a gift. A long time friend, paddling partner, and almost-husband from my twenties sent me a treasure of an email, encouraging me on after I queried him about my plans. “You’ll do fine in a solo boat.  Your strength and joy in that environment will glow radiant.  It is a happy thought.”

Thanks Rob. The power of truth. The power of gifts we can give each other. I did not believe him because he said it; I believed him because my body resonated with the truth of his words. My head might have its concerns, but my body, my deep inner knowing, knew he was right. This trip was about opening to joy.

Bone-deep certain now of my expedition’s value to reconnect me with my own light, I sought out gifts and loans from other friends to remind me of our connections – a simple spoon with which I ate each meal, a feather-light solo tent, a special sleeping pad. Words of inspiration in my trip journal. This one stands out, and I carried it within:

“Stay safe, and keep your heart open to every experience.”

Thus buoyed by friends, I did. Here’s what I found:

A felt sense of wholeness inside myself. In every cell, a sense of “being enough” – no longer searching for external approval, or love, or direction. A sense that I could be complete, in and of myself… connected with the vastness of life.

I was at home inside myself. At peace. Flowing with the rhythms from sunrise to sunset, listening to my inner guidance on where and how far to go each day… I found I really could take care of me.

Near the end of my 150 mile trip, I saw a majestic turtle swimming in shallow water just below me, sunlight revealing her multi-hued home. Three times the size of any other turtle I’d seen in the north country, she was deep inspiration to me – almost as if my whole trip had been to allow me to glimpse her there, at peace in those waters.

She carried her safety with her, wherever she went. She could choose when to extend out, and when to rest within her shell. So can I. We all can.

She was always Home. And so are we.

I grew this precious internal sense of wholeness, safety, and grace in the midst of sweet challenge – a cliff-steep trail, an insistent headwind across miles of open water, balancing on logs traversing thigh-deep bogs, choosing which rapids to portage.

For I moved through this country very differently than I had in my old tomboy days. I did not toughen against challenge, but instead softened. Every day, I took time to nap, softening my frame into granite’s sun-warmed embrace.

Moving this way carried me farther, with more joy, than my old tough-it-out ways. I found myself paddling as many miles, traveling solo at 48, as I had ever paddled tandem. The boat (a Bell ‘Magic’) had something to do with it.

But so did grace.

After five months of savoring the grace of my own vibrant shell and my circle of community, I am ready to write again. To share as generously and as widely as friends have shared with me. For I now know that this precious sense of fullness, wholeness, and safety that I found in solitude…. is here to stay.

What is the journey your heart longs for?

Where is your spiritual home?

What helps you feel more deeply at home inside yourself?

What support could you seek out to help your dreams come true?

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle, or the mirror that reflects it.”   Edith Wharton

Last night, in the small hours, I woke to see our lake listening to the near-full moon, mirroring back a magnificent swath of light.   This was a time-stands-still moment, a be-still-and-pay-attention kind of moment.

It is easy for us to automatically equate action, and speech, with value and worth, and inaction and quiet with lack of value.  Yet, without stillness, there is no center point to find and return home to; there is no clarity about what matters most, there is no ability to fully open to what is around us.  Ultimately, there is no ability to deeply listen to others, or ourselves.

What is the gift we give when we listen with our full presence?

Magnification.  While the moon itself last night was lovely, the lake’s rendition of moonlight was magic.  Under gentle night breeze, this swath of light, a blend of the best moon and lake had to offer, pulsated with aliveness. 

If this is difficult to imagine translating to the human world, think of someone dear to you. Witness the way full presence, and deep listening, bring out their best qualities.  In comparison, notice the way distracted attention brings out something very different.  (The same is true with our own work; experiment with listening deeply into the question of what matters most today…. and notice what emerges!)

We all have this same nature underneath, and the ability to both offer and be touched by full presence.   This is a gift we can give and receive.  

What is the value that deep listening brings?

At our core, we are built for connection.  From an evolutionary standpoint, we are made to thrive with others, not alone.   Being able to be deeply present, and listen with full attention, is one of our fundamental ways of contributing to thriving connection, benefiting self and other. 

How do we cultivate the ability to listen so fully that we can help others bring out the best in themselves?

We always have two places to look to cultivate abilities: our stories (the meaning we create and the value we give), and practice.    In this case, these weave together beautifully.  Most of us are hungry for deep connection, such that attentive practice will reveal its own value.

Practice first cultivating your own stillness.  

This is the connection between the quality of presence and deep listening, for we cannot be thinking (listening to ourselves) and listening to another as the same time.

What will help you cultivate inner stillness?  Meditation?  Time in nature?  Centered breathing?

Then practice something foreign to many of us: when you listen, do nothing else. Simply bring your full attention to the one you are listening to.   Let yourself be the lake, with no other task, than mirroring the moon.

You can practice this with music, in nature, with animals… with any experience in which you commit to bringing your undivided wholeness.

You may be swimming upstream when you do….

This is the absolute opposite of multi-tasking….

And the gifts you cultivate, both for yourself and for others, will magnify over time.   

So practice.  And notice…

Where are you called to listen fully in your life?

“Nobody ever said this would be easy, this process of evolving.“ 

The following poem by Rashini reminds me that I achieve wholeness by willingly traversing even the most challenging portions of the trail.  

This is a poem for those moments we all reach at some point, when we each need reminding that the “only way out is through.”   I find that both literally – hiking a steep trail, or portaging a canoe on a seemingly endless carry between lakes – and metaphorically  - through both work and personal travails – I find success in two ways: accepting what is, and keeping one eye toward where I am going.

On a long carry between lakes, often through dense forest cover, accepting what is means I don’t fight my canoe’s mass pressing down into my shoulders.  I move with vs. against my challenges.  I keep my breath relaxed and low, stay fully present with my own sensations and each attentively placed footfall amidst moss-covered rocks, across fallen timber, or skirting the edges of deep bog.  

At the same time, I keep my vision in mind: where am I heading, and why.   This thread helps steady me and keep my going through every challenge.   On a portage, this vision is ‘the first glorious glimpse of blue’ – that first sighting of water between trees that helps me know that I do have all I need, that I will succeed, that I will reach water once again.

 We all will.   With willingness, center, breath, and vision, we will all reach the water on the other side.

But Rashini says it better than I do…

There is brokenness

out of which comes the

unbroken,

a shatteredness out of

which blooms the unshatterable.

There is sorrow

beyond all grief which leads

to joy

and fragility

out of whose depths emerges

strength.

There is a hollow space

too vast for words

through which we pass

with each loss

out of whose darkness we

are sanctioned into being.

There is a cry deeper than

all sound

whose serrated edges cut

into the heart

as we break open

to the place inside which

is unbreakable

and whole

while learning to sing.

What helps you cultivate willingness?

What helps you center inside of challenge so that you can stop fighting ‘what is’?

What is your vision? 

What will help you stay in touch with your vision every day, no matter how challenging the trail?

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, that would be enough.”  —Meister Eckhart  

 Here is another gratitude practice.  This one is especially rich for cultivating aliveness.  Why does this matter?

The more change is unfolding ‘out there’ in the world, the more vital it is to cultivate a solid home base of vitality and aliveness in our own bodies.  Especially as leaders, this practice of internal cultivation can strengthen our resiliency and stamina such that we are able to stay proactive longer – truly in a leadership stance – through periods of pronounced change.

This practice is not about toughness though. It’s about comfort.  Read on.

Do you remember as a kid, ever taking a nap when you could hear family around? Perhaps you were snuggled and warm, and comforted by hearing familiar voices around you.  

As adults, we don’t often get that “nap on the couch” feeling.   Yet, every day, right where we are, we have the ability to open wide the doors of our hearts, and to cultivate that feeling,  when we remember “our place in the family of things.”  (Mary Oliver- see below!)  

Here is the practice:

On rising each morning, greet the great outdoors.  (Yes, actually go outside to do this…!)  Notice temperature, light, sounds, air movement, and the smell of morning.   What do you see?  What do you hear?   What of the natural world can you notice, connect with, and appreciate, on waking each day?

Regardless of weather, there is at least still one thread of beauty.  Open your eyes to that thread.  All of us, no matter our path or our challenges, have a home in the natural world. Sometimes we forget, and lose touch.  Some seasons, or locations, we may like better than others.

Yet, what can you surprise yourself by noticing today, right where you are?

Let your experience each morning, of noticing and appreciating, right where you are, help you both notice and focus on the good,

and open your heart to what is to come.

Wild Geese 

 You do not have to be good. 

You do not have to walk on your knees 

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. 

You only have to let the soft animal of your body 

love what it loves. 

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. 

Meanwhile the world goes on. 

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain 

are moving across the landscapes, 

over the prairies and the deep trees, 

the mountains and the rivers. 

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, 

are heading home again. 

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, 

the world offers itself to your imagination, 

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–

over and over announcing your place 

in the family of things.

Mary Oliver 

February 1.  I am just in the door from a weekend-long silent retreat over on the west slope of the Cascades.  A story from my weekend… (there will be more.)

Early Saturday eve, as thirty of us sat in sweet silence, circled around a crackling fire, I had a message reverberating in me. In my Quaker tradition, this reverberation signaled to me that this message might be meant for another, as well as for me.

Since this was a silent retreat, at the rise of this gathered circle, I simply wrote the message on a yellow lined notepad and left it on the table where we were sharing information through the weekend.

Sunday morning, hiking solo down trail after climbing eagle-high to watch water surrendering into a succession of cascading falls – the essence of power and grace –  I passed a woman from my retreat deep in thought on the lower trail.  I was curious what was unfolding for her, but given our vow of silence, we did not speak. Sharing all the care one can radiate without words, we passed and each continued on, knowing we would reconnect soon.

As we finally broke silence in the early afternoon, and each shared the meaning of the weekend for us, the woman I had passed on the trail spoke poignantly on her transforming inward journey from her morning hike, and the importance that message on the yellow notepad had played.  I will protect her privacy and not speak of her story, but I will share the message. (You’ll have to visualize the yellow note pad…)

“Do not get lost in your fears.

Surrender into love.”

I don’t know what this will mean for you.  On my hike, watching the interplay of water and rock, the meaning became clear for me: in this ancient dance of waterfall and rock channel, it is the power of water that softens rock and opens the path ahead.  

Whatever challenge I face, I will have all I need so long as I remember to allow the water-like flow of love within to guide me.  This then, reminded me of a favorite poem that never fails to open my heart when fear comes near:

I Will Not Die an Unlived Life.

I will not die an unlived life.

I will not live in fear

of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days,

to allow my living to open me,

to make me less afraid,

more accessible, 

to loosen my heart

until it becomes a wing,

a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk my significance;

to live so that which came to me as seed

goes to the next as blossom

and that which came to me as blossom,

goes on as fruit.

-Dawna Markova

What does that message on the yellow notepad mean for you?

What could open if you were to shift your focus to nurturing the positive forces that are alive and well in your life?

I love hearing your comments.  What speaks to you?