Blog Bugaboo, boo-hoo and yippee!

Some of you may have missed my blogs the last several weeks, no months! Yikes!

Others of you may not have noticed I’ve been absent.  Boy, oh boy, have I been absent. And believe me, I’ve missed you

whole lots more than you might have possibly missed me.  I’ve missed myself, too.

What I mean by that is that I was just getting into the swing of this blogging thing, and finding to my amazement and delight that I was enjoying it, too, and then several things happened all at the same time.

I got extraordinarily busy with work: first, an astonishing number of people were suddenly in crises of one sort or another, and calling for some assistance. While delighted to be able to use my skills to help, as happens when a big clump of intense work comes all at once, I found I wasn’t sleeping normally, desperately needing naps in the afternoon, and then being awakened by guidance in the middle of the night (with terrific suggestions, but I’d sure like to get those memos during daylight hours.) And all of this just increased as the holidays got closer. . .you know.

Second, the weather fluctuated between coldwindyrainy, and gloriously sunny and springlike. On the springlike days I found myself remembering how many times in my life I’ve worked right through those, planning to play in the garden or go to the beach later, only to have the weather shift before I got to later. After years of hospice work, and never once hearing anyone regret not spending more time at the office or on the factory line, I’m finally learning to play hookey now and then, and even do it with a minimum of guilt.  I feel really good about this, but recently the opportunity and temptation has come about rather a lot. (I’m writing today and it is coldwindysnowy out:  see?)

Third, the blogging caused an existential mini-crisis, with me asking myself tedious questions about who I was and what the heck I thought I was doing.  Partly this is a natural process of coming to terms with having spent years thinking of myself as someone who just doesn’t “do” the computer, and here I was doing it and liking it!


 Much more odious was the persistent snarky voice asking me why I thought I was a writer with anything worthwhile to say? After a period of gnawing gut, my subconscious burped up the memory of a brother scathingly telling me that the regular nutrition column I wrote for a women’s newsletter was “stupid, with no original ideas at all”. . .now, that was mean, but considering that I had two other brothers who were supportive, and that I even got fan mail occasionally, clearly this comment bugged me because it mirrored something I sometimes believe about myself. 

Yes, we all know that many creative folks feel like imposters, no matter how hard they work, sure that any success is just good luck, and that one of these days someone is going to figure out what fakers we are. . .

I KNOW how ridiculous that kind of thinking is, but those imposter thoughts are subversive, sneaking in around the corners and blindsiding you, so once I grabbed ahold of the little sucker, I knew it was my responsibility to do the inner work that would allow me to move forward with this writing adventure. So I have been.  Between working with lots of clients in crisis and goofing off at the beach picking up beach glass and splashing in the waves. Yes, in Northeaster Ohio in winter!

I hope this hasn’t bored you to tears.  I feel glad to be starting again, and would love to hear from you about what inner challenges you’ve been going through, and how you deal with them.  Thank you for sticking around.

May 2012 be the year we all unload our old demons and move forward with grace and humor.  Namaste.      

SIT! SIT! Good Girl. . .

    An interesting phenomenon seems to be surfacing. Many of us who are almost always putting our hands or minds or both to some task, are finding ourselves sitting still and staring into space, almost against our will, even though it's pleasant.  We might be sitting next to a pile of books we've been eager to read, and instead of picking one up, stare blithely at the nearby wall.  Or dinner is done and while we'd normally jump up and take care of the kitchen, now we let 15 minutes or a half hour slide by while we stare at our plate or out the window.  Then again, we may be zooming in our car between important destinations, and find ourselves irresistibly drawn to pull into a park area and just sit, staring into the middle distance, not really seeing what's before us. . .


   This has been happening to me, and I hear from friends and clients that this is happening to many of you, too.  Now for me, raised with the good old Protestant ethic stated so well in the aphorism (picture this embroidered on a piece of old linen), "Idle hands are the Devil's workshop,"  even while sitting smiling dopily into the middle distance, there is a perpetually naggy voice yammering at me to GET TO WORK!  What do I think I'm doing, just sitting there??? For Pete's sake, how can I continue to earn my place on the planet if I'm not producing??? Geez. When the mood, or whatever it is, finally passes, guilt sweeps in, and I find myself working double-time to make up for it.  And yet the next day, or even later that same day, I drop off into this pleasant la-la land again, just sitting, despite the presence of that scolding inner voice.  Sound familiar?



   Over the years I've had occasionally recognized when an odd phenomenon keeps popping up, at which time it eventually occurs to me to ask Guidance, "hey, what the heck is going on?"  This time they said that life on planet Earth is currently turbulent, chaotic.  To which I wittily replied, "No, duh!"  They are used to this from me, so kindly continued:


                           Those of you who know yourselves to be on a spiritual path
                            (for there are many who have yet to remember this truth), who
                            are sometimes called "Lightworkers,"  are allowing yourselves to be
                            used this way, for those times when you sit in quiet and just
                            BE, you act as the stillpoints in the center of the real and figurative        
                            tornadoes of energy currently being released. This is most needful,                               
                            as Earth continues her evolution, old systems collapse and new 
                            ones are imagined and created. Perhaps it's time to let go
                            of old thought patterns and habits that tell you that you have to earn 
                            your place on this beloved planet? Perhaps it's time to believe 
                            you are beloved, too, and therefore don't need to justify your 
                            existence with endless busy-ness?"


   I swear, if Guides smirked, they would have been smirking over those last two sentences.
Of course it's time to give up those self-defeating crazy-making ways.  As the old cliche goes, we are called human beings,  not human doings.  How better to catch our breath, get grounded, and notice the glory and wonder around us in the midst of the chaos?


   Recently I told my friend Linda that when I was pregnant with my daughter, my husband, son and I were visiting friends in Iowa when tornadoes blew through.  Everyone else sensibly went to the basement (my friend Marge's mother got under the ping-pong table) and stayed put, but I just couldn't, I had to be where I could watch.  And this was no small system;  by the next day, the National Guard was all over the place, trying to help folks deal with the material destruction.


  The really really wacky thing is, the same thing happened the next evening, and I responded the same way, to everyone's consternation.  
   While I felt powerfully guided to do this, and Guidance told me it would be fine, I do not recommend this behavior to anyone, especially someone pregnant.


   However, there is something thrilling and awe-ful and beyond my poor powers to describe, watching Mother Nature remind us that we are not boss, that we are incredibly powerful, but in our own domain, and that there are always energies larger than us at play.


   So, back to the present, maybe those "I can't seem to help myself;  I'm not motivated to do anything but just sit," times allow us to remember to be, and sit in wonder at the magnificent (while at times overwhelming) changes bringing us into a new way of Being.


   For my part, I'm reminding myself to surrender to those times.  To "Let it Be." (I can hear the Beatles accompanying me as I do it.)


   And if that annoying, cranky voice starts in again, pushing me to do, do, do, I'm going to smile sweetly and say, "I am sitting in the eye of a storm, so go away."  
   Let me know how it goes for you, okay, Fellow Stillpoint?
   

My Favorite Restaurant

   I just had a delicious brunch in what is, at this time of year, my favorite restaurant:  my front porch.  The service is generally relaxed and friendly, because that's usually how I feel when I get out there.  It's homey, and open, and surrounded by flowers, and full of comfortable furniture, so no matter how my day is going, once I'm out there, I generally feel relaxed and friendly.
   The setting is usually congenial, unless I time it when everybody decides it's time to mow, u weed wack, and blow leaves, or try out their new chain saws.  But for the most part, it's low key,  and I often have a CD playing softly through an open window, so the mood is peaceful.
   Now let me tell you about the brunch I just had:  I sauteed some green onions from my back garden, then added in some chanterelle mushrooms bought from The Mushroom Man at the nearby farmer's market, a treat that one waits all year to have, as they are quite seasonal.  Next in went some baby carrots and green beans, also from my back garden;  then some summer squash from a volunteer that planted itself on the side of my compost.  Next, some garlic and basil and shiso, also from out back, a little hungarian hotwax pepper from my next door neighbor's garden, a couple of chopped cherry tomatoes from my friend Sarah's, and a little pepper and himalayan salt. Finally I threw on top a gorgeous egg with an amazingly yellow yolk from my friend Laura's hens.  This accompanied by a slice of oatmeal toast, also from the farmers' market, slathered in maple honey, from the Maple Lady at the farmers' market, and a big mug of tea, flavored with chocolate mint from my front garden.
   What a feast!  A delight to the eye, an adventure to the nose, a thrill to the mouth, and with the exception of the tea, which is from India, all quite local.  How blessed is that!
   I feel endlessly blessed that I have this spot of Earth that I am allowed to steward, to love and cherish and learn from and plant and sow and tend, and from which I get to harvest miracles in all shapes and sizes and flavors and colors. And then I get to dance around in my kitchen and combine these gorgeous miracles in all sorts of ways, like the brunch I just fixed and consumed. 
   Even the preparation is such a joy.  The foods look so vibrant at this time of year, and getting to wander through one's yard (or one's neighbor's) to find just the right contents is a treasure hunt unlike any other.  It never ceases to fill me with awe that a tiny speck of a seed, in ground that I have dug and amended and watered, will grow into an entire tomato plant, or pepper plant, or lettuce.

. . .and the cutting or snipping usually adds aroma to the surroundings;  never more so than with the aromatics like basil or peppermint:

        Each moment in the garden, I am aware of being part of a whole, a gigantic whole composed of every living thing, and I get to play my part by nurturing another part and then choose it to nurture me in its turn.  The sense of flow is so strong for me at these times, of give and take.  How can I feel anything but gratitude?  People visiting my garden often say,"what a lot of work goes into this!" and I always feel a little frisson of surprise.  I can spend hours "tending" my garden and feel so completely tended in turn, that it somehow doesn't register as  work, at least not in the usual sense.  Even when it's heavy "work" like turning the compost, I feels so completely at home participating in the cycle of life that the pouring sweat and tired muscles simply don't register for me in the same way as, say, cleaning out the garage.      
   I find myself wondering if I can develop that kind of consciousness for tasks that, to my mind, currently seem less appealing, more something I have to talk  myself into? I imagine organizing the basement or my tax files or refinishing some outdoor furniture with that happy smile on my face. . .but I'm not there yet.

   One of the things I love best about gathering and preparing food for my favorite restaurant : the surprises that come up.  I notice things that are ripe unexpectedly (which makes up for the things that are taking forever to ripen) and instantly, different combinations are forming in my head for the next meal.  It's an endless adventure.  And of course, creatures of all sort surprise me:  sometimes a garden snake curled into the compost pile;  sometimes a spider who has erected a gorgeous filigree across two plants. . .these sisters and brothers often take me by surprise, and I am not always grateful at first meeting;  sometimes the surprise is too great, and I have to ground and remind myself of the wonder.  But at other times, the wonder is automatic, as in the case of my friend to the right.  Ahhh,  bliss.

Norway's Example

Like everyone, I was stricken by the recent events in Norway.  The searing shock and pain, feelings of loss and horror, are almost unimaginable.  


But it is their response to this event that is the subject of this post:  the utter grace and love that have flowed forth, rather than the instant retaliative responses we so often come to expect. 


As Stacey Robyn and her Go Gratitude group say:


Rather than resort to retaliation and fear-mongering, the people
of Norway have chosen a peaceful response.  Our Norwegian
brothers and sisters are choosing LOVE, Peace, Openness and
Freedom in the face of manufactured fear, terror and illusion.

A new pathway . . .  is being embodied,
and is an example worthy of emulation for every nation on
the planet.  Blessed BE!


I'm also reminded of the horrible attack on an Amish school a few years back.  Once again, that community chose to respond with love and forgivenness, and healing became possible as a result.


Now of course I would rather be a part of a nation that responds with calmness, love and peace when acts of aggression are experienced.  Of course I believe that is the way for life to improve, rather than just get into a nasty cycle of getting back at someone who's wronged us.  Of course it makes sense to me that retaliation simply makes for an increase in violence and pain and loss. And I'd love to be part of a nation that feels strong and confident enough to react with love.


So how can I help my community, my state, my nation emulate these principles?
By asking myself the question:  do I live that in my daily life?


There are so many times in my day - to - day existence in which I get an opportunity to practice this idea;  how do I do?


Too often, when someone cuts me off in traffic, I send ticked-off energy back at them.  Yet when I have the presence of mind of take a deep breath and wish them well, I feel so much better.  When I encounter a rude clerk, or a client who wants to "yes-but" everything I say, or a contractor who doesn't show up when promised, how often do I take it personally and send back feelings of annoyance or even (a personal favorite) self-righteousness? How can I help myself remember to send back love and acceptance?
  
Gandhi knew a thing or two about these matters:  he knew that if you want to have the wherewithal to withstand the big stuff, you have to practice it in little ways, on a daily basis. When he was a young angry attorney, outraged by British policy toward his people, he didn't accomplish much and only found himself more and more frustrated.  It was when he discovered the magic that comes in finding peace inside onself , letting go of anger and spending time forgiving, that everything started to change.  His famous quote:


You must be the change you wish to see in the world,


has never been more true.  If the Norwegians are able to respond to this event with such forgivenness, love and grace, it's because as a culture they live that. 


Have you ever been really, really angry with someone, and expected a really really angry response, only to have them look you in the eye and say "I am so sorry"?  Didn't you melt?  Or at least take a step back and have to reconsider the whole situation?


Too often I catch myself being irritated with such minute nothings!  As I look at it, it seems like such a waste of good feeling, of beauty, of opportunity for delight. 


There is a little miracle of a book called  The Gentle Art of Blessing by Pierre Pradervand.  It is full of stories of people who have found their lives changing in amazing ways when they taught themselves to respond to all sorts of situations with blessings.  (To get a beautiful taste of his philosophy, check out: 


www.youtube.com/watch?v=WegAgepCYfo


So I find myself thinking that the best way I can honor those lost in Norway, or indeed in any violent situation around the world, is to practice peace in my daily life, to foster a wave of blessing and forgivenness, for we know that energy builds and like attracts like. 


What are your thoughts?

Baby, It's Hot Outside

ooh boy, i'm too hot even to capitalize. . .
   i'm one of those people who makes fun of people who complain about the weather.  i think it is such a waste of energy, time, thought. and because i believe in the laws of manifestation, you know: the idea that what you put your attention on increases, whether you want that to happen or not, it just seems ridiculous to me to put my attention on something that i want to go away. but keep your ears open when the temperatures stay in the 90s for more than three days. . .you can start to hear a whine coming from my direction, and if those temps go longer than 5 or 6 days, you'll usually catch me opining on the dire state of the weather, feeling shame-faced about it the whole time.  geez.
   well, i don't even know what day this is, i just know that it's a whole lot hotter than i like, and i'm grumbling.  oh yeah, i have my coping techniques.  the usual cool liquids and sitting near fans helps a lot, and wearing as little as this culture lets me get away with, and staring at my darling sheltie pooch who is in this same weather wearing a fur coat and who remains cheerful and playful and. . .i use the heat as an excuse to lie around and read under or next to a fan as often as possible, and i get up really early and stay up quite late, hoping for a chance to nap in the hottest part of the day like those intelligent mediterranean cultures do. but still.  grumble grumble.  
  i'm reminding myself how happy i was to get to the time of the year when i don't need to spend 15 minutes putting on coat,hat,mittens,scarf,heavy socks and boots before leaving the house. i'm reminding myself how much i love to garden. i'm reminding myself that there are people i know and love who revel in this weather, and i can choose to be happy for them;  after all, everyone should get the kind of weather they love at least now and then, right?  but secretly i think they are just plum demented.
   so today when the weather is again hot and steamy, and i know it's much hotter and more unbearable in austin where my brother and his family live, and knowing that doesn't seem to help at all, and i'm full to the gills with cooling liquids and grumbling about all the peeing it engenders, i'm aiming to play with ideas that are further 'out there' to see if i can find a way to make this fun instead of perceiving it as such a drag.  hmmm.
   ok, here's one:  what if i imagine that i'm really from another planet and this planet's temps feel a little coolish.  that might work.  just imagine that the sensation i'm perceiving as uncomfortably hot is really just a tad chilly.  hey, this is interesting, because i remember times when i've stuck my hand in some water and not been able to tell for a split second whether i'm perceiving hot or cold. what if i just use that power to imagine that the sensations running along my spine aren't a river of sweat but rather a cooling liquid full of nutrients - hey, wait a minute, that's actually true! sweat is a liquid that's meant to cool (and does, beautifully) and is full of mineral salts, etc. 
    oh, and i'm just remembering that in old-fashioned books, women with a sheen of sweat on their brow actually didn't have sweat on their brow because ladies didn't sweat, it wasn't nice.  no, no, their complexions were dewey. i like that.  right now i'm really really dewey. i'm swimming in dew.
    and i can remind myself that i wait all year for vine ripened tomatoes from my own garden, and my tomatoes love this heat. love, love, love it.  they are genuinely happy when it doesn't cool off at night one jot.  they are happy campers.  
   so, here's what i've got going so far:  i'm pretending that i'm a tomato-loving, dewey complected alien from a hot climate. it's time to go get some more cooling liquids and think of something to fix my cousin for breakfast;  i wonder if she'll notice me seeming a little more out-of-this-world?  i'll let you know how it works.  meantime, what do you find helpful with weather that makes you crazy/oops, let me change that to "challenges your powers of perception and manifestation"?   
      

A NAME BY ANY OTHER ROSE. . .

I had something completely different in mind for this week's blog, but you know how it goes. . .you get distracted by a side path and the next thing you know you're in a part of the woods that you didn't even know existed.

I accidently Googled my own name (trying to get to this blogspot;  see how slow I am when it comes to computers?) and the next thing I knew, I was finding other people with my name who sound pretty darned interesting.  There's a Margaret Swift in North Dakota who was a "farm wife who picked up a brush" and now creates lovely paintings of nature scenes;  another who choreographs Texas line dances, which you can watch on you.tube, and a G.P. in British Columbia.  The one I found the most fascinating and actually spent more than two minutes reading about is a Margaret (Welles) Swift who was a survivor of the Titanic!  Wow!  As one who's rather interested in the history of the Titanic, has seen the movie (which I still think was way too long), and more recently, been bewitched watching Downton Abbey, I find it quirky and exciting that someone with MY name lived through that ordeal. It's known that she was a first class passenger and was rescued on boat #8 along with two female companions;  the male who was part of their party went down with the ship.  Talk about survivor's guilt;  how do you accept the fact that you got to live and lots of others didn't simply because you were female and could afford a first class ticket?  Hmmm.

That Margaret Swift was 46 years old at the time, and lived to be 82, so she  clearly still had a lot of living to do.

It got me thinking:  how many of the survivors came back feeling that they were spared for a purpose?  Those were times in which the general thought was that God controlled everything and had a big old masterplan, so did (most) people think that those who died were "called" because they were done with their Earthly Travails, and those still here still had things to do? Did it give them a sort of kick in the pants to not take tomorrow for granted but to get on with whatever it was with which they wanted to get on?

I'm not a big fan of the Divine Masterplan idea;  I was raised with it, but it never made sense to me.  My current idea, which keeps evolving, is that we are all evolving -- even Divine Love, or Source, or Infinite Joy, or whatever I call that-which-I-have-difficulty-calling-God-because-of-too-many-yucky-definitions-which-people-have-killed-and-died-for-because-they-thought-they-knew-the definition-and-were-right-and-everyone-else-was-wrong, on any given day.  I believe that Creation with a capital C didn't just happen a long time ago;  it's happening NOW, every nanosecond of every day, and the biggest miracle of our lives,  lives which are loaded with miracles, heavy with them, full to the brim, is that we get to participate in that Creation with a capital C.  In fact, we have no choice:  we are doing it every nanosecond whether we realize it or not.

from spacetoday.org

Isn't this exciting?  We're helping write the script as the play's being acted out.  In some way, big or small, we are helping decide the lighting, the sound, the props, and at any given moment, whether it's a comedy or tragedy or something completely new.

This is my current belief, and I believe it with my whole heart, while trying to remain open to new wisdom as it bops me on the head or tugs at my heart.  I really really believe this.  I am a co-creator.  What I do and say and how I be matters.

So why do I still waste so much time?  Why aren't I more focused and committed and purposeful?
OK, I could waste more time beating myself up for often being lazy, distracted, and confusing what I feel I'm meant to be doing with what I feel other's expect me to do.  But no.

Right now I'm pausing to think about what that other Margaret Swift might have felt in the remaining 36 years of her life.  Maybe that life is mysterious and you just never know when a bizarre set of circumstances might sink an unsinkable ship and dump you into icy waters. And that if you are one of the blessed who get back home again, you might find it harder to take people and resources and circumstances for granted. I don't know that life would take on more meaning, exactly, but it certainly would take on more value.


So I ask myself, how do I maintain that sense of blessed purpose without needing a titanic event?  For now, I'm going to evoke the spirit of this earlier Margaret Swift, print out her picture, and have her greet me in my little meditation spot each morning.  Let's see how that works. ( What do you find helpful?)

P.S.  This is the first time I've successfully uploaded pictures (with a great deal of help from my sainted daughter) so I now consider myself trainable.  Hurrah!
  

Not There Yet

Sorry, dear readers, but please keep in mind that I am a mind from the 16th century. . .I have been diligently working on two posts, which I shall share with you eventually, but I am stumped by my inability to figure out how to add pictures and believe me, these posts need them. I've spent the day often feeling stupid and annoyed with myself and annoyed with my computer and annoyed with anyone who got in the way at the wrong moment. . .yuck.  Not what I was hoping to share. Here at the close of the day, I am spending some time remembering that it's okay to be on the front end of a given learning curve, even if it is one that any average 10 year old has already mastered. . .I'm just sure this process is good for my ego.


To relax and calm myself, I am listening to Eric Whitacre (click to see his amazing TED talk and get a taste of the music I'm listening to) and drifting happily on the soaring voices joined in performing his remarkable works.  And I am writing to you, partly to apologize to myself and the world for getting my energetic knickers in a twist, and partly to close out the day on a more uplifting note for myself.  It occurred to me to revel in post 16th C. inventions for which I feel a deep and abiding delight and/or gratitude.  And then to open it up to you to mention a few of your favorites. . .


I truly am grateful for the Internet and all it makes available to us, literally at the push of a button (or for you more up-to-date, the touch of a screen).  I love that it is getting more and more obvious just how tiny and precious is this amazing Blue Ball on which we dance, thanks to the connectivity of the Internet.  Wow.


Those who know me know that everyday I thank the Divine, and Thomas Crapper, for flush toilets. (Yes, I know T. Crapper didn't invent the toilet, but he modernized it into what we know today).  I can squat in the woods with the best bear, but I am soooo grateful I don't have to!  The cleverness of the design, the simplicity, and the fact that those of us in this part of the world can and usually do take flush toilets so completely for granted. . .well, let's remember that's not true yet in many parts of the world, and that right here it only goes back a very few generations.


Recorded music.  My oh my.  Think about one or two or three of your favorite, and imagine hearing it for the first time and knowing that if you EVER wanted to hear it again, you had to play it yourself or get someone near and dear to you to do so.  The exception was of course some standardized church music, some of which is gorgeous, and lots of which is, in my opinion, blech. We take for granted that we can hear a piece, want to hear it again, and purchase a CD or download it or whatever, and play it on an almost crazy number of devices. Fantastic.  


Digital cameras.  I am no photographer.  And I'm parsimonious. I used to be awfully hesitant to take pictures, because of wasting all that money and other resources on film and developing.  Now I joyously click away, knowing I can delete to my heart's content.  And getting to see at least a little version of the picture I just took!  Clearly magic. Now I just need to learn more about uploading, photoshopping, etc. . .


Central heating.  The idea that in the midst of winter, one can have an entirely warm body, not just the side facing the heat source, is still a very new idea on this planet. I remember clearly at my maternal grandparents, turning slowly like a bird on a spit, so that one side didn't get overheated and the other frozen. I also remember no heat upstairs, and the drinking water next to the bed frozen in the morning.   It's easy to forget that much of the world still doesn't take central heat for granted, and that, once again, even in this affluent country, you don't have to go very far back to find out just what a luxury it is.  I still don't have central air, but I suspect it won't be long.  Fabulous.


Lending libraries and their amazing librarians.  Hey, that's a whole blog post in and of itself.  But as I close for now, I'll go pick out a book to read for a few minutes before drifting off into the arms of Morpheus. . .and feel intense tho' drowsy gratitude for those amazing institutions and their guardians.  


Your turn.