Happy Anniversary X 4

On April 11, 2020, we took our first hike up a nearby logging road. In the midst of the early days of the pandemic, we needed exercise that didn’t require a gym or Peloton, and, we needed fresh air. That 1.7 mile trek, with a 1000’ of elevation gain, checked all of the boxes.

At first, it was simply a way to stay healthy and strong, and we made a commitment to do it whether we felt like it or not.

At first, it was just a logging road, used by county utility workers, ranchers on the look out for free range cattle, hunters, and us.

At first, it was just something we did because we’d decided to do it.

Today, April 11, 2024, four years to the day since that first trip up, and with over 350 trips behind us, the logging road has shown herself to be holy ground, quietly supporting us as we make our way up and back, up and back, up and back. The trees—fir, pine, oak—the wildlife—deer, elk, turkeys, jays, squirrels, hares, coyotes, raptors, bears—all remind us that we are never alone, but surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

Four years later, we wouldn’t miss it. That road has kept her promise to help us stay healthy and strong.

Four years later, hers is a sacred path we are privileged to walk.

Four years later, we do it because we can’t imagine not.

April 11, 2020

April 10, 2024

When Why Gets In the Way of How

In a recent episode of the NEXT RIGHT THING podcast, Emily P. Freeman asked two simple yet powerful questions worth considering as we step over the threshold into a new year. What worked in 2023? and, What didn’t work? As I recall, in the podcast she speaks to the first question, and will be pondering the second in her end-of-the-month newsletter.

Both are great questions worthy of some serious consideration, and I plan on doing a deep dive into each of them. But the one that grabbed me first was actually what didn’t work in 2023. Easy answer: Not having a regular writing practice. I love writing. I’m better when I write. I’m more grounded when I write. I’m less reactive when I write. I’m happier when I write. In short, I’m a nicer human when I write.

These aren’t new insights, and I’ve known this about myself for a long time. So, why didn’t I establish a regular writing practice? Who knows? And furthermore, who cares?

Now, there are times when it is worth diving down the rabbit holes of our inner landscape. Truly. Self-inquiry matters, and I’m a big fan and typically a big practitioner. However, in this case, rather than dig in and figure it out, I’m just going to start writing again. Figuring out why, in this case, would simply be another distraction standing between me and my desk.

Sometimes trying to understand the why keeps us from getting to the how. And in this case, getting to the how is pretty simple. Start writing again.

Is there anything on your mind that doesn’t need an answer to why, but is waiting for you to jump into the how?

(With gratitude to Emily P. Freeman for her always good work!)

Kenosis

Kenosis.

Don’t you just love that word?

Not sure what it is?

Neither was I until I learned about it in a conversation with my spiritual director, and it’s stuck with me ever since.

Kenosis is the act of self-emptying. It’s the practice of using who we are and what we have to offer in order to love, help, and heal the world within our reach.

The best example of this practice is found in the life and times of Jesus the Carpenter, the one I love and attempt to follow. In his short time here on the planet, he did some really cool stuff. He turned water into wine, and healed the sick. He raised his friend from the dead and cast out demons. He gave TED level talks to the crowds that followed him, and then, as if that weren’t enough, he turned a tiny snack of a few fishes and a little bread into a banquet for the masses. And don’t even get me started on his voluntary death on the cross and the mystery that came after.

It’s exhausting just thinking about it all.

However.

All that doing was only half of the practice. The other half is what made all that pouring out of his life possible. Time and again, after giving of himself until he had nothing left to give, he drew away, often into the wilderness, for a time of rest and renewal. Yes, I’m sure he prayed and contemplated and reflected and meditated. But I’ll bet he did some other things too. Like napping.

With a little imagination I can see him eating all of the fish and all of the bread, because a guy’s gotta eat. He’d sip a cup of French Press coffee as the sun came up because, well, he just would. He’d wander along a deserted shore, take a little dip to cool off, and probably vent to his Dad about the sad state of the world to which he’d come.

Give it away.

Fill it back up.

That’s what we’re here to do.

If Jesus had to do it that way, I’m pretty sure that we do too.

Practicing Non-Interference

Lately I’ve been practicing non-interference. Hard work with a steep learning curve.

Non-interference is the act of not acting. Of not inserting myself into someone else’s process, problem, or plan. Of allowing others to steer their own ship, chart their own course, and connect their own dots. It is trusting a process put in motion by others, letting the puzzle pieces fall in place as they will, and bearing witness to the efforts, strengths and successes of others.

Non-interference is communication without words. Of keeping still and letting others find their way to their own solutions. Of zipping my lips and letting others do the talking. It is shutting the heck up already, and listening to and learning from the ideas and approaches of others.

Non-interference is respecting the agency of others. Of trusting that they will find a way, in their own way. And if they don’t, trusting them to learn from their experience. It is allowing them the same freedoms I want for myself.

Interference on the other hand is stepping in without being asked, chiming in rather than listening, and getting involved in it rather staying out of it.

Interference comes a little too easily to me. Maybe it does for you too. That means we get to be grateful for all the opportunities that come our way, every single day, to do it differently.

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PROJECT IN PROCESS.

NO HELP NEEDED.

No Strings Attached

The other morning I woke up decidedly on the wrong side of the bed, and it went downhill from there. My feelings became the filter through which I saw, heard, and interpreted everything and everyone, and it wasn’t pretty. I felt like a marionette. You know. One of those puppets with strings attached to different parts of the body, including, at least in my case, my mouth. Like The Lonely Goatherd in The Sound of Music, I was at the mercy of the circumstances and emotions pulling on my strings.

Control, it seemed, was out of my hands. Or was it?

What if instead of a marionette I could be more like a hand puppet? Like Daniel Tiger, X the Owl, or Lady Elaine Fairchilde in Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, it could be my hand in charge. A hand puppet isn’t pulled about by external forces. Guidance comes from within.

As a 4 on the Enneagram, emotions are my thing. There isn’t an emotion I haven’t experienced, and the ones that a lot of people work hard to avoid come easily to me. Because big emotions don’t scare me, I can be the calm in the midst of your storm. A quiet, safe place to show up with your grief and sadness, anger and fear, I won’t try to talk you out of how you feel.

As it turns out, being a feeling kind of girl is my gift.

It’s also my curse

Because I tend to lead with my heart, I can easily turn over the controls to my feelings and react accordingly. With, as you might imagine, very mixed results. I’ve been practicing not letting my feelings run the show. Catching myself before losing myself to the emotions of the moment, and that practice is paying off. But this puppet metaphor feels next level. There are no strings attached to those emotions, other than the ones I attach myself.

Threads & Tethers

Everyone has their ways of processing the world around them and within them. One of mine is writing. The practice of putting words together on a page puts my life together a little better. It sharpens my attention, and makes more clear the lens through which I see the world.

Last spring I stopped writing on a daily basis, except for the occasional burst of creative energy or the expression of moral outrage. The absence of this practice has been noticeable. At least to me.

Writing acts as both a thread and a tether. It weaves together the callings of my heart with the steps of my feet, and keeps me in close connection to who and what matter most. Without this practice in place things begin to unravel, and there is a growing sense of being unhitched to that which keeps me grounded.

If ever we were in need of a thread and a tether it is now. Now is not the time to be at loose ends with ourselves.

Which means, there is only one choice to be made. At least for me.

Start writing again. And so I am.

What are your ways of processing the world?

What acts as both your thread and your tether?

Whatever it is, if you have set it down, now might be the time to pick it back up.

A Reprieve

re·​prieve : a temporary respite (as from pain or trouble)

From our car to the top of the logging road is 1.7 miles, gaining 1000’ of elevation. It is a hike straight uphill to the top with the exception of one very short reprieve, thanks to the one and only switchback near the summit.

The switchback is so short it would be easy to miss it. Easy to just keep putting one foot in front of the other, head down, eyes on the trail, focused only on the effort it takes to make the hike. But every time we get there, and the road levels out for no more than a couple of hundred feet, we take notice. Take notice of the easing of our breath, the strength in our legs, the ground beneath our feet, and the beauty of the views that stretch out before us.

After less than 30 seconds the trail heads uphill again, but that one switchback provides just enough of a reprieve to make that last push to the top seem doable.

Given the immense challenges stretched out before us at this time in history, and the daily grind of our days, it would be easy to miss the tiny reprieves that show up on our trail. Easy to just keep putting one foot in front of the other, heads down, eyes on the trail be it to the end of the day or the end of the pandemic, focused only on the effort it takes to keep going.

If ever we were in need of the tiniest of reprieves it is now.

Noticing that reprieve on the logging road has become a practice, and a reminder to be on the lookout for any temporary respites, no matter how brief, that appear on our path. Taking heed of them might just be what makes our next steps seem doable.

Sabbath

When we consecrate a time to listen to the still, small voices, we remember the root of inner wisdom that makes work fruitful. We remember from where we are most deeply nourished, and see more clearly the shape and texture of the people and things before us.” 

~ Wayne Muller, Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in our Busy Lives

For the last 575 days I have written something to share here with my readers. Most of those days the daily practice of writing has been life giving, and, on the ones when it wasn’t, it still fed me in meaningful and fruitful ways.

Today, I find myself in need of rest. A kind of sabbath of sorts from the sifting and sorting through the questions that intrigue me, the ideas that captivate me, and putting those thoughts into words that I hope will resonate with others. I will never stop sifting and sorting and working to put those thoughts into the world. That, it seems, is part of what I am here to do.

For now, however, I will share my thoughts here as I feel inspired, but I am also consecrating a time to listen, and to find nourishment that will bear fruit in my life, the world around me, and on the page.

Thank you for every step you’ve walked with me till now. I can’t wait to meet again further down the trail.

Photo: Tom Pierson

Words To Hang Our 2020 Hats On

Yesterday as I wrote about 2020, my first thought was to come up with ONE word for the year. One word that would capture my vision, hopes, and thoughts for the year ahead. One word that would help me make choices in line with the person I want to be, and the difference I hope to make.

That’s a tall order for a single word.

The more I tried to come up with one word, and one word only, the more restrictive it felt, kind of like when you can’t catch your breath. That is when the idea of a collection of words took hold, and as the list of words appeared on the page I began to breathe a little easier.

As I look at the word cloud created from my list, and now displayed nearby for quick reference, it is clear that I will need every one of them. I already know that there will be days when I won’t be able to muster a speck of fierce if my life depended on it, and on those days will be grateful that grace is there at the ready. Some days I will embody those words, and on others only aspire to them. Keeping them close at hand might just help me embody more and aspire less.

We human beings are complex creatures, and the lives we live are equally complex. Every day we make choices that, when cobbled together, create the life we have, and it is hard to imagine summing up a life in a single word.

Going Deeper

If you want to take a deeper dive into today’s post…

Find a bit of time and space to create your own collection of words on which to hang your 2020 hat.

Create your own word cloud. (I used Word Clouds (simple, free, fun).

Hang it nearby, refer to it often, and see what happens.

Practicing Love

In his latest book (The Great Spiritual Migration: How The World’s Largest Religion Is Seeking A Better Way To Be Christian), Brian McLaren suggests that we need to learn the practical skills necessary to love well, starting with those closest to us. When those skills are practiced at home they can then be put to use out in the world with others.

His is an extensive list, and to my mind, there isn’t one that isn’t worth the effort. And, because the list is so expansive it might feel a little daunting to you as it does to me, so rather than take it all on at once, pick a few that beckon to you. Or maybe better yet, ask those near and dear to you which ones they would love to see you practice, which btw is practicing skills 7, 17, and 18.

1. Common Courtesies

2. Gratitude

3. Admitting Weaknesses & Failures

4. Self-Reporting Emotions

5. Expressing Hurt & Disappointment

6. Confronting & Forgiving

7. Asking For Help

8. Differing Graciously

9. Surfacing & Negotiating Competing Desires

10. Taking The First Step To Resolve Conflict

11. Upholding Wise Boundaries

12. Saying Yes & No

13. Winning & Losing Graciously

14. Creating Win-Win Outcomes

15. Speaking Truth In Love

16. Speaking Truth To Power

17. Asking Good Questions

18. Requesting Feedback

19. Expressing Affection

20. Opening One’s Heart

21. Giving Gifts

22. Seeking Wise Counsel

What better gift to give to ourselves, and to those we love this holiday season, than to diligently, humbly, and intentionally practice the skills of love. Love is, after all, the gift that keeps on giving.

Photo by Ylanite Koppens from Pexels