Who Can Stop the Rain?

   What a strange day this has been.  It’s late Summer, and there is still the call to partake of the fruits of the season, the colors of abundance.  The kids are going back to school so the vibe of the Fall to get moving, get busy, get organized is here, ready or not.  And, in the midst of it – all electronic media today calls us to, simply, fear.  We had some early prep in the form of a 5.8 earthquake on Tuesday so we’re already a little strange, now here comes Irene.
    Here’s the thing: I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t feel like it.  All day, I have had the feeling that I should be doing something, but I can’t imagine what that would be.  I’ll bring in my patio plant, stack the chairs under cover this evening – 10 minutes maybe.  I filled up my 10 gallon jug of water, but beyond that, WHAT???? 
    The truth is, I do not know what will happen as a result of Irene passing through.  I hope nothing too bad.  All this free floating anxiety and spin doctoring courtesy of our friends at the power company serves me no useful purpose.  I suppose if the power is out for days, they’ll try to say, “You can’t be mad at us. We told you this could happen.”  They shouldn’t waste their electronic breaths on me.  I will still be mad at them for neglected infrastructure maintenance and improvement, record profits, and now for their fear-mongering PR campaign.
    Although I have thoroughly enjoyed this rant and thanks for hanging in with me through it, it has little to do with anything important.  I write this today to tell you about the process that preceded me writing.  All day, I have felt tired, fuzzy, and unconnected.  I didn’t even sleep well last night.  I had some stories (and self judgments) about what might be going on with me, but nothing that helped with getting me moving.  So I did what I often do when I can’t do anything else – I recreated in reading someone else’s ideas.
    Thorne Coyle wrote on her website, “if we don’t meet each day from a pool of silence, we will drown in the noise of our own making. The clamor of the over-culture will hijack our best intentions over and over.”  Hmm.  I took a few minutes and did some square breathing.  What came up as I did the breathing was this slightly below the surface noise about the upcoming hurricane, and the thought that maybe I should be more worried. 
    I’m worried that I am not more worried.  Ladies and gentleman, I would like to introduce senseless suffering, ducca to those of the Buddhist persuasion.  I do not have any brilliant answers as to how one should respond to senseless suffering when she finds it.  It helped me to recognize and name it for myself.  What I did after that was drink some water, look at pictures from our recent day trip to the beach, and sit down to write this blog.  In a little while, I will meet with some clients. Blessed be.

Being the Change

    For a long time, I thought I had the soul of a warrior.  My childhood and younger days were all about fighting to defend those who were being picked on, engaging in public debate for social change, getting involved in activist causes.  I have been quick to throw myself into the middle of conflicts to try to make things better.  It is what I have always felt drawn to do.  It’s who I thought I was.  I remember a conversation early in my marriage when I shared this opinion of myself, and my husband said, in his rather mild taoist priest-like way, “You know, if you were at heart a warrior, I think you’d be better at it.”
    No, I did not pull out my sword at that moment and cut off his head.
    He actually had a point, so to speak.  Here’s what it was. He told me that although I might win the battle, the cost of the fight for me, emotionally, was rather high, or as he actually put it, “the next day, you shouldn’t be here bleeding all over the floor.” 
    So to speak.
    That conversation changed my life.  I have spent the past 15 years learning more about self care and boundaries, balancing passion and restraint, and returning often to the Serenity Prayer.  I went back to school.  I became a counselor. And, I haven’t had a migraine headache since I was 30.  The thing is, I have never lost interest in making things better.  I went to social work school for heavens sake!  I just haven’t involved myself in politics much in the last several years.  ( I have also quickly exited any conversations containing the phrase, “what’s that supposed to mean?” but that’s for another day.)
    Well, I’m back in politics.  I have involved myself in a fight about zoning in the area where I live.  I have been writing, speaking in public, and going to lots of meetings.  I’ve recently joined a Board.  I was sitting in a County Council meeting last night waiting to testify, reading an article on contemplative education.  The term was described as the “marriage of a compassionate heart and a purposeful mind.”  It occurred to me that somehow, I have to engage in the political process in a way that feels consistent with what I now know.
     Albert Einstein said that “problems can’t be solved by the same level of thinking that created them.”  I don’t want to become my enemy.  I don’t even want to have an enemy.  I really think that we have lost sight of our values in recent times.  “Adversarial” is not the environment in which humans do their best work.  Competition is not our highest value.  Politics should not be played like some extreme sporting event.  We may pray for it, but the best man hardly ever wins, and don’t even get me started about how often the best woman  . . .
    I will meditate today.  I will spend some time outside.  I will actively do something creative to get my right brain fed and happy, and I will give of myself to someone today.  I have learned that my insides need to match my outsides.  Today, I will be the change that I wish to see in the world.

It's Not Fall Yet

    I have had two thoughts I have been carrying around for the last week or so, planning to write them here.  As you may know, nothing happened.  I don’t know if you’ve been feeling it, but there is an undercurrent of Fall flowing through these days.  The kids are getting ready to go back to school.  Many of us are returning from vacations.  And we’ve had these gorgeous cool mornings.  I associate Fall with making lists and getting things done.  For those tuned to the agrarian, it’s harvest time.  The energy of the harvest is busy.  I’ve always liked it.
    So early this morning, I sat down to journal with a “let’s get cracking” intention.  And . . . I’m just not feeling it.  I had a moment of tiny panic, and I could hear my Inner Critic clearing her throat and tuning up for the talking to that was surely “for my own good” – something about my limitations and probably weight loss.  I’m just guessing.  Anyway, that’s not the story.  Here’s what happened after that.
    I had the IPOD playing in the kitchen, and I heard the music change mid song to a Sweet Honey In The Rock sacred song.  (Earthy and Africa mystical in case you are unfamiliar.)  I was aware of my nose being filled with the sweet grass smell I associate with down here.  It smells a bit like chamomile and is truly heavenly.  A cardinal chirped from the railing across the porch and flew right in front of me into the woods.  And my little Rosie popped up at my knee looking for a petting.  All of this and a cup of really good hot tea, experienced more or less at once.  It was a full, truly beautiful moment.
    And I heard in my head, all at once, as though it had already been spoken and I was remembering it, “My child, smell the sweet grass.”  It was as if the Earth rose up and to meet me.  What began as a thought about limitations became a moment of nourishment and healing, an  abundant experience of rightness.  I know with certainty that what’s next for me is just around the corner, just not this moment.  This moment is for taking it all in and letting myself be filled.  
    Or, said another way, it’s not Fall yet.  

On Ripe Peaches and Doing the Right Thing

    Sitting here right now, I just want to stop the world and get off for a while.  It is so beautiful outside this morning.  The temperature is a cool 78 degrees.  The sky dazzles me with a low humidity blue, and there is full crape myrtle representation.  Everything about this time of year says, “Use your five senses.  Take it all in.  Winter is coming.”
    It is.
    But, it’s a work day, and the house is a mess, and I need to work on a presentation I’m giving in the early Fall.  The thing is, the peaches will only be available for another couple of weeks.
    You know that buzzy, caffeinated feeling you can get in your head – tired and activated all at the same time?
    Right. 
    So I went outside for 15 minutes just now and sat looking at the trees.  It’s like they breathe with me.  The green is so soothing, and of course it’s not just one green.  There are many shades of green among the leaves as they blow in this gorgeous breeze today.  Feeling the air on my skin.  Breathing in and out.  I feel gratitude to get to be doing this right now.
    I find I can only sit out there for about 15 minutes, then the day’s work calls me back in.  I still have no idea what to do about the ants on the kitchen counter, but I feel a bit differently inside.   
    Barbara Walters once asked someone if they were a tree, what kind would they be.  As I sit here right now breathing in and out with my eyes closed, I can see the green of those leaves behind my eyes.