“Wholeheartedness.” Can you even say the word without smiling? Try it.
“Wholeheartedness,” now scowl and say, “Wholeheartedness, WHOLEHEARTEDNESS!”
Did you smile in spite of your best efforts? I did.
So, if you can’t help but smile when you just SAY the word “wholeheartedness,” then tell me, how do you think you might feel if you actually try to PRACTICE it?
Let’s try.
P.S. Would you like to see Wholehearted Fearlessness put into practice? Be forewarned, it’s NOT pretty!
At the end of my short run this afternoon I walked home listening to the last song on the Wailin’ Jennys CD, Live at Mauch Chunck Opera House, One Voice. I felt the presence of my Boo-Hoo Crew, strong and clear. It was a beautiful moment.
Verse one, I sang alone. Verse two, I felt Marie join in. Verse three, Jayne. Verse four I heard all the voices of all the women that I am blessed to know today.
Thank you for loving me, I love you too.
(Click here to watch the video on YouTube website.)
This is the sound of one voice
One spirit, one voice
The sound of one who makes a choice
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of voices two
The sound of me singing with you
Helping each other to make it through
This is the sound of voices two
This is the sound of voices three
Singing together in harmony
Surrendering to the mystery
This is the sound of voices three
This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and the will to trust
Leave the rest behind it will turn to dust
This is the sound of all of us
This is the sound of one voice
One people, one voice
A song for every one of us
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice
I love the way Diane Walker in her Contemplative Photography blog leads me down sychronicitous paths of spiritual understanding. I cannot count the number of times I have been working through a spiritual concern or growth issue and I turn to her blog and, yup, there it is: a full analysis of the problem, complete with quotes from spiritual gurus, illustrated with a beautifully crafted image of her own creation and accompanied by a poem.
God is such a charming, interesting guy, eh? His people? Uh.Maze.Ing! Utterly amazing.
Yesterday Diane posted this Eckhart Tolle quote:
“If peace mattered to you more than anything else and if you truly knew yourself to be spirit rather than a little me, you would remain nonreactive and absolutely alert when confronted with challenging people or situations. You would immediately accept the situation and thus become one with it rather than separate yourself from it. Then out of your alertness would come a response. Who you are (consciousness), not who you think you are (a small me) would be responding. It would be powerful and effective and would make no person or situation into an enemy.” (from Oneness With All Life)
When drama enters your life, when people behave poorly toward you, when they act less than honorably, how do you react? Jesus told us to love our neighbor, turn the other cheek. Easier said than done, right?
Prying myself out of a Constant State of Righteous Indignation and into a Peaceful State of Forgiveness & Love seems to be my life’s current lesson. It’s a struggle, to be sure, but I truly believe that it is going to be worth the struggle.
A few years ago a church in North Carolina had everything they owned stolen. They responded to the thief (or thieves) quickly and through every form of media that they could, see the billboard ad below as just one example:
Now, I have a pretty good idea what you may be thinking about this church, and I have a pretty good idea that what you are thinking is wrong (and aren’t you glad for that!).
Take a moment and watch this video and find out how this church responded to the thief…
Day 14 of the Catalysts for Change e-course asked that I learn to recognize resistance whenever I encounter it.
The photograph I took yesterday afternoon during my walk is a classic example of someone failing to yield even to the warning that the need to yield is ahead.
The driver of the car that ran this sign down veered off course, sank his tires deeply into the soft shoulder and, if you could see up ahead, was quite nearly caught and swallowed whole by the soft hill before he stopped to right himself.
“What power it takes to move one habit — as AA recovery groups have shown; just as it takes power to move one shovelful of dirt from here to there. Little wonder that power can be most simply defined in terms of work done. Work is so hard, the power required so great because of the resistance factor. And that is why changes are so difficult to achieve and so miraculous when they do occur. And also why quick change is suspicious, for unless the pattern of resistance itself has been altered, the change remains whitewash and wallpaper. The underlying stone walls remain stuck in their statis and want to stay that way.” —James Hillman in Kinds of Power
Learning to stay the course and resist distractions, to stay awake and aware while looking deep within, to welcome Change as an Adventure. To recognize Resistance as an invitation to use newly developed strength and courage and wisdom. This is my call.
And most important of all, to learn to love what seems unlovable. To love myself, to love others, to love. To simply love.
I always take a little longer than the average Jane to get the full picture, to see the reality. I tend to have a rosy view of the world around me, my eyes like to skip past ugliness and prefer to dwell in beauty. My heart looks for the best in people, even when I’ve been disappointed by them once or a half dozen times.
And now, I have to admit, that somewhat delightful, child-like quality is really starting to get on my nerves. . .but in a good way. It’s time to change the bad habits of blind trust and innocence into good habits of forgiveness — forgiveness of self and of others — and wisdom in love. I don’t expect this to be easy, it’s going to take some practice.
In Day 13 of the Catalysts for Change e-course we were asked to Rehearse the Truth. Day 13, by the way, was supposed to take place on January 18. Yes, I’m a little slower than the average Jane, but I’m taking it slow and steady because this is important and, like I said, growing butterfly wings is slow, labor-intensive work.
“Often we have to rehearse the truth until we find the courage to live it. In this, repetition is not failure, but the heart’s way to learn how to be in the world.” —Mark Nepo, Facing the Lion, Being the Lion
In this day’s lesson we were given a poem to read. Sounds easy, right? Ha! This poem knocked me to the floor for days.
We were asked to read through the poem slowly, several times (to rehearse the truth), replacing the “deep hole in the sidewalk” with our own personal challenge.
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
by Portia NelsonI walk, down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in
I am lost . . . I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in . . . it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.I walk down another street.
My “deep hole in the sidewalk” has left a deep hole in my heart. Caterpillar Kim was hoping that “he” would one day fill that deep hole in my heart with the love I so craved. Soon-to-be-Butterfly Kim knows that that hole is my own responsibility.
It’s a tough lesson, to be sure, but growing butterfly wings is slow, hard work, and I have nothing but time here in my cocoon.
“The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.”~Jalaluddin Rumi
The quote from Rumi arrived in my email in-box early this morning. When I read it I drew in a quick breath, formed a quick smile, and determined that today I would not go back to sleep, I would go out to feel the breezes of the dawn. And I did.
And, today, I am breathing a little easier.
My personal life, my home and very heart, is in turmoil and I am going through some very big changes.
My big changes involve other people and, while I am ever so comfortable blabbering to you about my personal triumphs and failures, I will not expose others to the same public examination. Some day I will be able to talk to you in clear terms about my own Phoenix Process — as author Elizabeth Lesser calls it in Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow — just not yet.
“You and I are the Phoenix. We too can reproduce ourselves from the shattered pieces of a difficult time. Our lives ask us to die and to be reborn every time we confront change—change within ourselves and change in our world. When we descend all the way down to the bottom of a loss, and dwell patiently, with an open heart, in the darkness and pain, we can bring back up with us the sweetness of life and the exhilaration of inner growth. When there is nothing left to lose, we find the true self—the self that is whole, the self that is enough, the self that no longer looks to others for definition, or completion, or anything but companionship on the journey.
“This is the way to live a meaningful and hopeful life—a life of real happiness and inner peace. This is the Phoenix Process.”
So here I am, in the Phoenix Process. It is painful. Sometimes I find it hard to breathe. My breath catches in my chest, fear rises into my throat, a hollow loneliness settles into my stomach. It’s me, peering into the future and seeing only darkness. I don’t have a clear picture of what is ahead yet. It all looks so dark and scary.
My head says, “It only looks so dark and scary because you don’t know where you are going yet. You’re still lost. Be gentle with yourself. Slow down, take a breath, find your bearings. Let’s look at the map together. We’ll find The Way. Don’t be afraid.”
My heart, lying in the ashes, cries. My eyes are closed to the Light. Fear is my companion, sorrow my bread.
Here is the Book of thy Descent,
Here begins the Book of the Holy Grail,
Here begin the terrors,
Here begin the miracles.
—The Grail Legend
Here begin the terrors. The fire burned, and then afterward, lying in the dark ashes, the terror overwhelmed me. But now, at least, it has my attention. I have been sleepwalking through my life, convinced that I was doing and being what I needed to be and going where I needed to go. But I was living a delusion. I was delusional and complacent—that is until something came along to shake me to my very foundation and awaken me to the reality and terror my own complacency.
In our sleep, pain, which cannot forget,
falls drop by drop upon the heart,
until, in our own despair, against our will
comes the wisdom through the awful grace of God.
—Aeschylus
Here begin the miracles. While I moved through the fearsome fire and while I still sit in the ashes, I know that I am held in the Hand of God. That has been my miracle. And every so often, when I find the strength to look up through my tears, I see the blessings of the fire and find comfort in the ashes. I see the miracle of clear signs, signs of hope and direction; of the gentle coaxing of friends; of moments of clarity, of brief, decisive action; of Meaning sought and of Truth found.
And I am still here. Breathing. So that’s progress, right? I’m ready to find out what I am really capable of, who I really am. I’m ready—scared, but ready. I’m ready to come out of the ashes and into the Light.
Maybe tomorrow.
There is a woman in my church family that, every so often, will stop me as I pass by her. She will rest her hand lightly on my forearm and look up into my face. Her face glowing with a Light so soft and gentle and inviting that I feel as though I can climb into that Light and bask in the warm glow of its beauty. I cannot look away. I am held still. Spellbound.
With her hand on my arm and her face turned up to mine, she pauses. She pauses as if to make sure I am really listening. Her eyes reach deep into mine and when I am truly still she will say to me, “Thank you for all you do.”
And she smiles. Her eyes glittering from the sparks of Light within her, the soft beauty of her face holding me still for a moment. And she smiles. Holding my body still with her hand on my arm, holding my attention with her eyes, holding my heart in the warmth of her smile.
And as I look into her face, I know that for that moment I am looking into the very face of Jesus.
I have learned to take those moments with Her and live in them for as long as the glow of the Light lasts. Those moments are sacred. They are a gift.
Those moments are sacred. She is a Gift.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate; our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fears, our presence automatically liberate others.”
~Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love
I have a confession to make. I skipped right past talking to you about Day 4 of the Catalysts for Change e-course. Yes, I skipped past it and past you — whistling, averting my eyes, pretending not to notice. I skipped it because that was a really hard day for me to work through and I wasn’t sure I had the courage to share my journey. On Day 4 we were asked to Make a Vow.
“The idea is that you state your commitment in front of others. “Once spoken,” Lozoff explains, “you are bound. That’s the central power of vows. Honoring promises is essential for self-respect and any success in life.” -Catalysts for Change e-course, Day 4
Vows are serious business to me. I haven’t always treated vows as though I take them seriously (I’ve been married twice — so far), but what can I say. I am human, imperfect, fallible, but honest (mostly).
Anyway, I had sailed through days 1, 2 and 3, thinking, “Hey, this is easy!” (*see the end of post for explanation of “easy”). And then I get to Day 4. I put on the brakes so hard and so fast I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t hear the squeal and run outside to see what was the matter.
Serious business. Was I really ready to take this e-course and myself this seriously? Serious enough to make a vow? Yes, serious enough, but it wasn’t easy.
So here goes, my public statement, my vow:
Less fight, more Surrender.
Less resistance, more Action.
No Leaning, no Slouching.
Awake. Aware. Present.
“No leaning, no slouching” is my new mantra. I will explain it by simply letting you read from the chapter in Words for Silence: A Year of Contemplative Meditations, by Gregory Fruehwirth, OJN. (OJN stands for the “Order of Julian of Norwich,” an Anglican order of contemplative monks and nuns in the Episcopalian Church, living in community and of the Benedictine tradition in Waukesha, Wisconsin.)
“Human beings are not primarily thoughts nor emotions. We are bodies, living in space and time. Our physical posture, how we are holding our bodies, is a direct indicator of what is happening in our spirit.
“When we lean forward, our spirits are, as it were, lunging out of the present moment, eager to grasp the future. Another way of saying this is that we have become anxious and greedy. We are living in a spirit of anxious self-concern to get what we want. The present moment is gone, thus our eternal reality in God is gone. All that we are left with is the drama of our anxious selves lunging forward in time to get what we desire.
“By no leaning, I mean that our bodily stance is perfectly upright, which indicates presence, awareness, and selflessness. We are present in this moment to what is. We are here and now.
“Slouching, like leaning, is also a way of denying the sacrament of the Now and refusing the present moment. Instead of leaning through the present toward something else in the future, we slouch — we curl into ourselves and withdraw from reality, both present and future. This is especially tempting when we are sad or tired. We slouch out of the present moment, away from the future. We cease to be here, upright, where communion is possible. Slouching is a refusal of the moment, a refusal of others, of our life situation. We want to get away from it all.
“Can we live without leaning and without slouching? Can we live all of the time in uprightness, in presence, sharp and attentive? I believe we can. What it requires is practice. . .Simply by adjusting our posture we adjust our spirits, we align ourselves with the eternal Now that just is this moment in time.”
__________________
* If you are a Monty Python and the Holy Grail fan, think of the Knights at the Bridge of Death who are told they must answer three questions in order to cross. The knights are intimidated by the keeper of the gate. The first knight bravely steps forward and he is asked:
“What is your name?” then, “What is your quest?” and then finally “What is your favorite color?”
All three questions are easily answered by this Brave Knight. The Frightened Knight, emboldened by this, steps forward saying “That’s easy!”, shoving the other knights out of his way, eager to get a chance to answer the questions.
“What is you name?” he is asked and he answers grinning confidently from ear to ear. “What is your quest?” and he answers with arrogance and a careless, dismissive wave of his hand. “What is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?” he is asked and his eyes bulge as this question hits him hard. “What??? I don’t know that!” he screams as he is thrown over the edge of the bridge and to his death.
That was how I felt, like that Frightened Knight, thrown by the “Make a Vow” day.
I haven’t posted about my journey through the “Catalysts for Change” e-course lately, but I’ve been too busy walking to do much talking about walking…and that’s a good thing, is it not?
Well, let me catch you up. I got left behind for a few days because I had:
Once I sat down in my chair Monday evening, I had a hard time getting back up, so I went to Day 7 of the e-course and was able to fly through to Day 11 in no time at all. Why? Because these are things I have been working on for a LONG time already. I’ll go through them quickly:
Now we are up to DAY 12: Take a bow. And not just any bow, a circus clown bow.
“Matt Smith, a wonderful Seattle improv teacher and solo performer, taught me a liberating game that can be used as a response to a personal screw-up. He calls it “the Circus Bow.” Matt claims this is how circus clowns deal with a slip in their routines. Instead of shrinking and berating himself silently with “Oh, no, I really blew it!” the clown turns to the crowd on one side and takes a magnificent bow with his hands extended and his arms high in the air, proclaiming “Ta-dah!” as if he had just pulled off a master stunt. He then turns to face the other side of the audience and repeats the bow, “Ta-dah!” Doing it in both directions allows him a 360-degree view of where he is.” —Patricia Ryan Madson in Improv Wisdom
Bwah-hahaha! I ADORE this one! I can’t wait to use it!
Nancy, of Blogging, Near Philadelphia, has a plan, a campaign, a mission: LOVE. Visit her blog and read the whole story.
