By A Thread

When my parents died within six months of each other back in 2000, I was sad that they were gone and ready for them to go all at the same time. People have asked me if I had any regrets when they were gone. Gratefully I don’t. Several years before they passed the three of us were sitting in their kitchen, and I found myself telling them that I would miss them when they were gone. That they had been good parents in so many ways. That I never doubted their love for me. That the memories we shared mattered. That they mattered, and that they would be missed.

Are there other conversations I wish we would have had, could have had? Probably. But I think it is rare that any of us leave the planet without a few loose ends. Ours is the task of leaving as few as possible.

My oldest brother, Peter, died suddenly on January 14th. I wasn’t ready for him to go and was grateful that he didn’t have to linger. He would have hated that. Again, no regrets. To say that he and I sat on opposite ends of the political spectrum would be an understatement, and we had more than our share of animated conversations over the years. To decompress I attempt to meditate. Pete would listen to Rush Limbaugh. He had a heart that was as deep as his political convictions, and would move heaven and earth to help someone in need. On the night of January 6th, after all hell broke loose at the capitol, he called me. “You kind of want to talk to the people you love on a night like this, don’t you?” I said. “That’s why I’m calling you.” he replied in his deep, gravely, cowboy voice. The day had deeply saddened both of us, and we found ourselves standing together on the holy ground of our shared hopes for what this country could be. Should be. It was our last phone call. A few more loose ends tied up.

Every morning, no matter what the weather, Tom and I sit outside in the early morning darkness with our first cup of coffee. Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle at our feet, we start our day together on the porch, sitting in old rocking chairs with red cushions on the seat and red and black plaid Woolrich blankets on our laps. One morning not long ago, Gracie and I were out there waiting for him to join us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his rocking chair. Empty. The red cushion and plaid blanket waiting for him. One of us will go on without the other someday.

We are always just hanging on by a thread. If we think it is otherwise, we are simply fooling ourselves. However, it is that thread that weaves our life together, one breath, one choice, and one moment at a time. And, when all is said and done, ours will be a tapestry of each and every one of those stitched together moments.

Ours is the task of leaving as few loose ends as possible.

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels

What Aren't You Saying?

Imagine what would happen if our thought bubbles were visible to others. It might not be pretty.

Before we heave sighs of relief that they aren’t, let’s consider what might happen if they were. I’m not talking about our snarky thoughts, or the mean spirited, sarcastic words we would never utter out loud, but love to shout behind the closed doors of our mind. I’m talking about the other ones. The thoughts and feelings that we work so hard to keep hidden might be precisely the ones that need to be brought out into the open.

What aren’t you saying?

Whatever it is, it might be what will lead to the real conversation. The one that will result in deeper understanding and closer connection. The one that will help heal wounds, mend fences, develop courage, deepen trust, and strengthen relationships.

What aren’t you saying?

Whatever it is, it might be what needs to be spoken out lout and within our own earshot. The words that will help us separate fact from fiction, loosen fear’s grip, empower us to ask for help, and shed light on our next right steps.

What aren’t you saying?

Whatever it is, it might be exactly what needs to be said. And heard.

(With gratitude to Dane Anthony for showing me the power behind this question)

Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán from Pexels

The Garage Day 2

When it comes to cleaning, clearing, and organizing a garage, like many things in life, it’s different strokes for different folks. I’m a tosser, he’s a saver, and with those two facts in play, as you can imagine, this project could stir up a little emotional stuff for the two of us. However, if we’ve learned anything in our 25 years together, it is that while we couldn’t be much more different, our commitment to one another is the same. So this morning, before setting one foot in the garage, we sat down with our coffee, and along with my sister and her husband who are here to help, had a conversation about what we wanted to be true at the end of this daunting project. Yes, by the end of the week we want to have made major progress. Yes, by the end of the week we want to have hauled away as many truck loads as possible. Yes, by the end of the week we want to have created a much more organized and clean space in which to start using the garage for the purpose it was originally built. And, yes, and most importantly, by the end of the week the four of us want to have all laughed together, had fun together, and be even more grateful for one another.

When it comes to cleaning, clearing, and organizing a garage, like many things in life, the project isn’t the real project. What matters in the end is how we conducted ourselves in the midst of the project. What matters in the end is how we related to one another in the midst of the project. What matters in the end is whether or not we are better people, both individually and collectively, because of the project. That can only happen when we realize that the project isn’t the real project. It is just a vehicle to become even more of the authentic and wholehearted people we are called to be.

Stay tuned.

The Conversation

I am convinced that we have access to an innate inner wisdom that stands at the ready to assist us.

This past week I saw this inherent sense in action in the participants in the workshop I had the privilege of leading. Focused on the opportunities that await each of us to engage in important, meaningful, and necessary conversations, when asked if they could identify such an opportunity waiting for them, an interaction where the stakes were high and the emotions probably were too, there wasn’t one shake of the head in the room. It was all nods. To a person, everyone knew of at least one conversation waiting for them, and to a person, everyone knew that they were the one to start it.

We know the conversations waiting for us, even if, and perhaps most especially if, we are reluctant to have them. Call them courageous conversations, crucial conversations, inconvenient conversations, or fill-in-the-blank conversations, we know what they are, and why they are. We just don’t want to have them. We don’t want to have to muster the courage in the midst of our vulnerability. We don’t want to start something without knowing how it will turn out. We don’t want to enter the arena knowing we might need to be stitched back together. We don’t want to give voice to something fragile and important that might go unheard. We don’t want to show up and be the only one at the party. And yet, in spite of all of that, the conversation is still waiting for us.

It continues to be my experience that the more I am willing to engage in the conversations that matter, regardless of how scary, challenging, or difficult they may be, the deeper my connections grow. To others, to my convictions, and, to myself. .

Is there a conversation waiting for you?

Grounded

“Ground is what lies beneath our feet. It is the place where we already stand; a state of recognition, the place or the circumstances to which we belong whether we wish to or not. It is what holds and supports us, but also what we do not want to be true; it is what challenges us, physically or psychologically, irrespective of our hoped for needs. It is the living, underlying foundation that tells us what we are, where we are, what season we are in and what, no matter what we wish in the abstract, is about to happen in our body, in the world or in the conversation between the two.

To come to ground is to find a home in circumstances and in the very physical body we inhabit in the midst of those circumstances and above all to face the truth, no matter how difficult that truth may be; to come to ground is to begin the courageous conversation, to step into difficulty and by taking that first step, begin the movement through all difficulties, to find the support and foundation that has been beneath our feet all along; a place to step onto, a place on which to stand, and a place from which to step.”

- from Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words by David Whyte

There’s Still Time

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” - Gandalf

(The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien )

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I woke up yesterday morning with these words ringing in my ears...

There’s still time.

As there are only four more days left in 2018, it seemed to be a reminder not to squander those four sacred days. Days that I will never get back. At this point in the year it can be easy to simply coast until the calendar turns over to a new year, thinking “I’ll get to fill-in-the-blank next year.”.  I’m not advocating taking on a huge project, or missing out on quiet, leisurely days with friends and family.

But.

I am suggesting that for me, and perhaps for others, there are things to be tended to now rather than later.  

• A conversation to have. 
• A change of mindset.
• Letting go of an old story so as to begin the new year with a better one. 
• Forgiveness to be extended or received. 
• A commitment to be made. 
• A decision to be finalized. 
• Hatchets to bury. 
• A wound ready to heal into a scar. 
• A stake to put in the ground about the work you want to offer in the year ahead. 
• Grace to be offered.
• A question to consider. 
• Baggage to leave behind.
• ? 

There’s still time.

Sacred Texts

There’s a lot of talk about how much technology is getting in the way of real human-to-human connection, and In some cases, I couldn’t agree more. Text instead of talk, email instead of engage, emojis instead of actual emotions.

Technology greases the skids to taking the easy way out, and can be a way to hide behind the screen and avoid having the real conversation. You know the one. The one that’s asking you to have it. My own personal rule when considering sending a text or email to communicate something important, controversial, risky, or vulnerable is the following: Am I willing to look the person in the eye, or pick up the phone, and say exactly what I am about to say in this email or text? If the answer is “No.”, then I shouldn’t push that tempting little ‘send’ button. It doesn’t mean that it isn’t a conversation worth having. It probably means it’s important enough to actually have it.

All that being said, technology can foster human connection in ways never before possible. In my world there are text streams that go on between all manner of family members and friends, and that have in fact become sacred, safe spaces to share the real stuff of life. Sometimes hilarious and at other times raw and real, with the push of a button physical distance evaporates, human connection materializing in its place.

There are times when all we have the time or emotional capital for is a text, and that little ding signaling the arrival of a new message becomes a lifeline that says someone out there cares.

Some sacred texts are written on ancient scrolls.

Others with new fangled technology.