A+ha.

i thank You God for most this amazing day:

it's Halloween today: the eve of All Saints Day. So I give thanks for life, for those saints who have shaped me, and for most this amazing day...

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

--e e cummings

It ain't over 'til it's over.

I almost went to bed last night before the end of the game. Not just any game. The World Series. Game #6. It looked like the Rangers had it won: they were up by two runs in the bottom of the 9th inning. There were two outs and two strikes on the batter. This game was clearly over.

Except for the fact that it wasn't. The batter actually hit the ball on what looked like the last pitch of the game--or, rather, the last pitch of the series. Two runners scored. The game was tied. Which led to extra innings. And a win for the Cardinals...which means one more game tonight. Game #7 for the title.

The whole thing got me thinking: how often do I write something off as over and done before it's actually over and done? How many times do I assume I know how something will turn out just because it looks like it's going turn out a certain way? 

Here's your assignment for the day: stick with something through to the end. Let it play out. You just never know how it's going to turn out...seriously.

Stop.

Stop right now. Whatever you are doing, just stop.

Sit down. With your feet flat on the floor. Feel your feet on the earth. Feel the earth support you.

Feel the weight of your body sink into the chair, too. The chair supports you, too, you know. 

You are supported. Held. 

Now sit straight. Not rigid. Don't let your energy rise back up and out the top of your head. Keep your energy grounded down: down in the chair, down to the earth. But still--sit tall. Natural. 

Gently place your hand on your heart. Feel it beating. You don't need to remind your heart to beat. It just does. Your heart supports you. 

Now shut your eyes. Well...read the rest of this post first. :)

But shut your eyes. Keep your hand on your heart. Feel it. And breathe deep. Clear down into your belly. And let it out. 

Breath in. Breath out. Heart beating. Body supported.

Sit there for a couple of minutes and remember: You. Are. Held. And. Loved. 

 

The difference between rituals and routines.

Routine:

You get up in the morning, wander into the kitchen, fill the coffee pot with water, scoop the grounds into the filter, and push "start" all without thinking--you're just going through the motions because, hey. That's what you do in the morning. There really isn't any thought to what you are doing. You just do it. Unaware. By rote. It's a routine. Not a ritual.

Ritual:

You get up in the morning, wander into the kitchen and start to fill the coffee pot with water, aware of all of the times you have done this before. As you are pouring the water into the coffee pot, you remember seeing your mother do the exact same thing while you were growing up--and memores (postive or negative) come up in your consciousness. You take the coffee out of the cupboard--the coffee you carefully selected at the store because they are fair trade beans. You feel a connection to the worker who picked the beans as well as for the barista who ground the beans for you. As the coffee starts to brew, you carefully select your favorite mug from the cupboard and when you pour your first cup, you put it to your nose to inhale the aroma, wrap your hands around the mug to feel it's warmth and then take your first sip fully aware that this moment of gratitude and awareness is going to shape the rest of your day. You are present. You are aware. This is ritual.

Why does it matter whether you drink your coffee (or brush your teeth or buy groceries or do laundry...etc.) as a routine or as a ritual? Because routines wear us down. They dull our senses. They make us feel disconnected. But rituals are life-giving. They set our hearts on fire. They make us keenly aware that we belong to something greater than ourselves. They remind us that even the most simple things in life are holy. Sacramental. 

Routine. Ritual. Which will it be for you?

I generally don't like to borrow things off of someone's Facebook page but this one was worth passing along.

HallowThanksMas.

Halloween items are in the store by mid-August. Thanksgiving items make their way out by the first of September. And Christmas? Do Christmas decorations ever really go away?

Yes. We're officially in the season of HallowThanksMas. The time of year when pumpkins and Santas and Pilgrims and Turkeys and ghosts and goblins all gather around the tree with the baby Jesus and Rudolph. It can be quite maddening. And a little confusing. And a whole lot frustrating for a whole lot of people.

Here's my suggestion: focus on what's here today. Don't try and do three things (or twelve things or twenty things) at one time. It's not healthy. And it's not sane.

Do one holiday at a time. Do one thing at a time. Don't let the commercialization of the holidays make you feel like you've got to rush and buy and consume and worry about outdoing yourself and your neighbor. Just. Do. What. You. Can. Now.

Now.

Higher Ground.

 

Every now and then, I wake up in the morning and find that my Inner Critic (you know--that little voice inside that makes me feel "less than") is still asleep. And I am so, so, so, so grateful. Because that doesn't happen every day.

Some days I wake up and find that before my eyes are even open, my mind is already racing through a way-too-long list of the things I have to get done that day, knowing that there's no way I'll get everything done. No way. Before you know it--and before my feet even hit the floor--my brows are furrowed and my chest is tight. And when my brows are furrowed and my chest is tight I feel disconnected from others. I feel disconnected from myself. And I feel disconnected from God. All before my morning cup of coffee. 

On those days, a reminder of our connection to one another and to God is what heals my soul. 

And on the days where my Inner Critic decides to take the day off and I wake up with a heart that is so full of love and life that I can't stand it--I still need a reminder that we are connected to one another and to God. 

Reminders like this video. Playing for Change is a project that will change the world through music, through connection, through love, with hope. 

Take a peek and see what you think. And while you're listening, remind yourself (and your Inner Critic, too) that we're all invited to higher ground. What can you do to take another step in that direction today?

 

 

 

What are you going to do with your one wild and precious life?

Steve Jobs died yesterday. I saw the news on the TV screen in the lobby of a Holiday Inn late last night--and the news made me stop in my tracks. Knocked me off center for a moment. I felt like I had lost a friend. You see, in my hand I held my MacBook Pro. In my purse was my iPad 2 and my iPhone. Yes, I am (and have been for quite some time) an Apple girl. But it wasn't the technology that connected me to Steve Jobs. It was his story.

You can hear it for yourself here: Steve Jobs Commencement Speech. It's well worth watching.

He was adopted. Me, too. He didn't finish college. Me, either. And he had the audacity to believe that he had something to offer the world--that he could really make a difference--despite the fact that he didn't fit the mold. On my good days, I believe that, too. 

To me, he was more than a guy who made cool products. He was...well...a flesh and blood hero kind of guy. 

The world is a better place today because Steve Jobs was in it. 

But you know what? The world is a better place because we're all in it. We all are here with gifts to share, with unique ways to change and shape the world. 

And you know what else? We're all going to die. Someday we're going to die, too. 

So what is it you are going to do with your one wild and precious life? (read the Mary Oliver poem here: The Summer Day). 

Traveling mercies, Steve. Traveling mercies. 

We Belong to God.

So, I was sitting in church yesterday. Like I do most weekends. Except this was a little different: there was a Latin band playing with the choir. Yes, there was an accordion. I was thrilled. Yet another reminder how much I love that instrument and have GOT to take lessons... ...but I digress. What was really beautiful (besides the accordion) was the way the choir sang Pues Si Vivimos when accompanied by this soulful group. It was slow. Languid. I was verklempt. Truly choked up. Pues Si Vivimos. We Belong to God. If you don't know this one, the words go something like this: When we are living, it is in Christ Jesus. And when we're dying, it is in the Lord. For if we're living or if we're dying we belong to God. We belong to God. As the words and music tumbled around in my head and my heart, I was struck with this sudden a-ha: what if we didn't just sing these words but actually lived as though they were true? What would that look like? How would it change our day to day routines, conversations, relationships? I'd bet things would change. A lot. I'll let you in on something: this isn't just a catchy tune. It really is true. We belong to God.

Hallelujah.

 

I woke up this morning with this sentiment in my heart and this song on my mind. Thought I'd share.