A Flaming Mystic: Practicing the Presence

One of my favorite podcasts is On Being , hosted by Krista Tipett. She is one of the best interviewers out there, and one of my favorite episodes was her conversation with Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen, a physician working in the field of integrative medicine. Dr. Remen was speaking about her grandfather, a man who had profoundly shaped her life and view of the world. He was an Orthodox rabbi who studied the Kabbalah. She referred to him as a "flaming mystic", and went on to clarify what she meant by that term. Paraphrasing here, she said that her grandfather viewed the world as a place that was inhabited by a Presence, One with whom we could be in constant communication. We could daily, constantly, be in conversation with this abiding Presence by speaking to and asking of, and be directly spoken to and asked of right back. I LOVE that view of the world, it is one that I share, and, one that I all too often forget. In the midst of my days it is easy to imagine that I am out here on my own, forgetting that I'm connected to life in deep and mysterious ways that are as real as real can be.  

The word mystic can be scary to some as it might suggest a connection to some sort of magic or  "new age nonsense". To others, the term can seem foolish as it is not grounded in scientific fact and hard evidence. I wonder if looking at the  word in either of those ways shortchanges us of some of the riches that life wants to offer. Personally, I believe that we are all, every single one of us, created in the image of a magnificent God. That the creative force behind all of life is present around us and in us, and wants to work with and through us. Every. Single. One. Of. Us. I believe that we are all here to live our most authentic and whole-hearted lives. And, I believe we are all here to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach. Weaving those three beliefs together is where the magic happens. Connected to the Source, we become a source of healing and helping in the world in our own authentic and whole-hearted way. 

You may or may not agree with Rabbi Remen. But what if, just for the heck of it, we all tried on a mystic hat for size. Wake up in the morning and connect with that magnificent Presence, by speaking to and asking of, and then listening for the response. Perhaps we will find that the voice that speaks back to us is as close as our own hearts.

Photo: Brad Hannon

Friend or Foe? Part II: Taking a Closer Look.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy. 

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive, 
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, 
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.

The Prayer of St. Francis

Since posting Friend or Foe? yesterday, I've received multiple comments from readers about the timeliness of the message, how hard it is, given the state of our world, to choose to see the universe as fundamentally friendly, and, how much we need to be reminded of this most important choice. I agree whole-heartedly with their comments. That's why I wrote it in the first place. I won't speak for other writers, but I usually write about what I most need to hear.

As I was putting the finishing touches on yesterday's blog, I wanted to crop the photo of St. Francis of Assisi so that very little of the mountain was left in the picture. Why? If you look up towards the top of the mountain on the right hand side of the picture, you can see a long black line that kind of looks like a fence. Except that it isn't a fence, it's a wall, as in a section of "The Wall" between the United States and Mexico. I didn't want the wall in the picture. It, for me, is a metaphor for a hostile universe if ever there was one. I wanted St. Francis, who with his beautiful prayer is, for me, a metaphor for a friendly universe *He called all creatures his "brothers" and "sisters", preached to the birds, and saw nature as a mirror of God. Hell, he even called his chronic illnesses his "sisters".  But try as I might, every time I tried to crop the photo, the editing feature wouldn't work. It. Would. Not. Work. On about my tenth try and with more than a few hostile words for my computer, I got it. The picture depicted the choice between Friend or Foe perfectly. At any given moment we have the opportunity to choose what we believe about the universe in which we live. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about putting on rose colored glasses, a happy face, or turning a blind eye to all of the vicious, unkind, malicious, unsympathetic, venomous, harsh, brutal, inhospitable (all synonyms for "hostile") actions we see, hear, and perhaps personally experience. What I am suggesting, is that underneath it all, the heart that holds the world together beats with love, respect, and the desire for the well-being of all. And just like the picture with the wall that wouldn't be conveniently cropped out, the two views of the world between which we must choose are in stark contrast to one another.  

Maybe it has to be stark so that we don't miss it. 

Lord, make me and instrument of your peace. 

Amen.

PS In case you are wondering, I do believe we need a thoughtful approach to our borders. Thoughtful. Humane, Respectful. Safe. Just. One based on the belief in a friendly universe.

* Wikipedia

Rise and Shine

Recently I was lucky enough to spend a week at Rancho La Puerta in Tecate, Baja California, Mexico as a presenter. I was there to talk about the importance of "Trusting Your Own Magnet" - how to sense where life is calling you, and how you might get there.  My youngest daughter  Lauren came with me, and every morning we were up early, sitting out on the veranda with our sacred first cups of French Press coffee and setting our intentions for the day. Not surprisingly, our days unfolded with a sense of ease, space and grace.  It. Was. Glorious.

But when someone is serving you beautiful, organic meals made from vegetables just harvested from the Ranch garden and prepared by people who pray over and bless the food before serving it, making your bed in the morning and turning it down at night, leading you in quiet meditations, massaging and herbal wrapping your body, and serving you just made smoothies... well... if my day didn't go well.... #suckstobeme.

One afternoon fellow presenter Lindsay Sherry, a certified nutritionist and holistic health coach, was sharing 8 Tips for Creating Your Best and Healthiest Life!. Tip number one, numero uno, at the top of the heap? Take time in the morning just for you. Her words rang true. The ones that resonated even more? If we're going to win the day, we have to win the first hour. Period. End of sentence. It's as simple as that, and as hard as it gets. Especially when you're not at a world-class health spa with gracious people attending to your every need.

Back home, in the midst of the magic and the mess that is my real life, with meals to cook and beds to make, laundry to do and bills to pay, relationships to tend to and emails to write, it's a little tricker. And yet those morning hours set the table for the rest of the day. They really do. And if I let the table get set for me (hello depressing news, toxic tweets, social media rabbit holes, hitting the snooze button - again, and fake food for breakfast) I shouldn't be surprised if my daily bread tastes stale. Thankfully I came home from the Ranch committed to becoming committed to winning my first hour. Currently, this is what that looks like:

• Up at 5:30ish, hopefully after at least 7 hours of sleep
• Out on the porch sipping Sleepy Monk French Press coffee out of my favorite  before 6:00
• 20 minutes of meditation (or at least pretending to meditate)
• A little inspirational reading (sometimes only time for a sentence or two)
• Off to the gym for a workout

I wish I could tell you that I got it right every day. But I don't. I wish I could tell you that I was up to an hour of meditation a day and have found inner peace unlike ever before. But I'm lucky to get in that 20 minutes, and inner peace is a total crap shoot. What I can tell you is that I am learning to trust the practice and just get up and do it. I am finding a tiny sliver  of inner calm that I can access a wee bit easier. Rather than react, I'm a tiny bit more able to take a deep breath and a step back. With more time in the gym my energy is increasing as is my muscle tone. My morning practice to win the day is a work in progress, and comparing mine to that of anyone else doesn't help. I seem to be in pretty good company about that. In The Book of Joy, Archbishop Desmond Tutu dismisses his own morning meditation practice when compared to His Holiness the Dalai Lama's of arising at 3:00am for five hours of prayer and meditation. The Archbishop doesn't haul his sorry ass out of bed until 4:00am and then only manages to squeeze in three or four hours of prayer and meditation. Like Teddy Roosevelt said, "Comparison is the Thief of Joy." 

I've been a morning person for as long as I can remember. Apparently I arrived on the planet wired to get up before the sun does. But being an early riser does not a good day make. What we do when our feet hit the floor does. 

A Sense of Entitlement

When you hear the word "entitlement" what comes to mind? Those people who want something for nothing? Sometimes at our expense? How dare they?! Easy to smugly think that I'm not one of those people. 

The other morning while happily working out, pushing through an interval training session on the elliptical machine, I was listening to Typology - a favorite podcast featuring Enneagram teacher, episcopal priest and co-author of The Road Back To You, Ian Cron. The podcast "...explores the mystery of the human personality and how we can use the Enneagram typing system as a tool to become our most authentic selves." I love this podcast, and anything that can add to my attempts to become my most authentic self is good by me. As a 4 on the Enneagram, authenticity gets straight to the heart of my matter.

On this particular morning at an especially juicy part of the episode, I accidentally caught my headphone cord on my arm while reaching for my water bottle, simultaneously ripping my earbuds out and flinging my iPhone to the floor. I guess my most authentic self loves to yell the "F" word, and smack my hand on the elliptical handles. More than once. The feeling I had could perhaps best be described as a fiery hot flash of anger. How dare that happen to me?!

Climbing off the machine to retrieve everything, I started to wonder why that little, teeny, tiny, mishap had gotten under my skin so quickly. As things go, this was a nano-thing. It wasn't like my bank account was overdrawn and I couldn't afford groceries for my family, or didn't know where I would sleep that night because the homeless shelter was full. A loved one hadn't just tragically died in a suicide bombing, nor had I lost my home to a hurricane. I wasn't the subject of identity theft, not had I been subjected to sexual harassment in return for another day of work. Nope. My $700 iPhone had dropped on the floor, safe in its $69 waterproof, shockproof case, and my ears were a little irritated from the ripped out earbuds. Let's talk First World problems here. The word "entitlement" quietly slipped into my mind. I'm not fond of that word, especially when applied to me, as it conjures up images of people who don't want to put in the work. All of the glory, none of the guts. Their needs always matter more. The world owes them. The college graduate who doesn't want to start at the bottom and earn their way up. The driver who endangers everyone else by cutting in and out of traffic because apparently her time is more precious than ours. Entitled people are the ones who think the rules don't apply to them. How dare they?!

That's. Not. Me. 

Well then, exactly what did I imagine I was entitled to in that moment when my iPhone went sailing to the floor? No discomfort? The right to finish the podcast in peace? No obstacles in the way? Smooth sailing? And then I remembered a few other occurrences that showcased what was looking like my own subtle brand of entitlement. Like the time not too long ago when I was driving out of our driveway for a meeting, and  my cup of coffee spilled all over my oh-so-casual-but-carefully-chosen outfit. I screamed so hard and so loud that my throat hurt for the next two days. Think Linda Blair in The Exorcist with her head spinning around, a guttural, other-worldly sound coming from a very, very dark place. Or the time when I banged my knee on my open filing cabinet drawer and slammed it shut so many times that it required the help of my husband (who never seems to scream, slam, or spill anything) to finally pry it open. Do you see a theme here? Yeah. Me too.

Those outward immature temper tantrums point to something deeper and hidden below my mature looking surface. It seems that I have a deeply rooted belief that nothing should get in my way, or ruin my plans. That I have a right for things to work out as I think they should, and that I deserve to proceed along my merry way uninterrupted. I hate to admit it, but those sound strangely like  senses of entitlement. So, where else might it raise its ugly little head? How about when I'm savoring my first cup of coffee in the quiet morning hours and someone calls on the phone. How dare they?! I am entitled to these few moments of peace and quiet dammit! Or when I've cleared the decks and have a whole day at my desk to write, and suddenly someone needs my help. Right now! How dare they?! Don't I have a right to an uninterrupted day? Don't get me wrong, I am all for self-care and the importance of making time for ourselves, our health, our loves, and our work. But that's not what I'm talking about here. This is about the underlying belief that I have a right for things to work out exactly how I want, when I want, and where I want.

Time to look even deeper.

My latest book came out last year. BLUSH: Women & Wine felt  important to write, and it was. It is well written, has a relevant message, and has the potential to touch people's lives for the good.  But now that it is out in the world, it isn't getting the notice I think it deserves. And perhaps even more embarrassingly honest, I'm not getting the attention I think I deserve, the speaking gigs I love, or the opportunities to showcase what I have to offer. As a 4 on the Enneagram, I'm long on big dreams, but can fall short of taking the consistent small steps it takes to bring a vision to life. I talk about it with my coaching clients and in my workshops, but I am lazy about actually doing it myself. Recently a good friend (and fellow Enneagram 4) sent me a link to a Will Smith video about the self-discipline it takes to achieve success. He's talking about material success, but it's true of anything we set out to do, become, contribute. We don't deserve success. We're not entitled to it. We don't have a right to it. We make it happen. Day by day. Choice by choice. Step by step.

To replace my newly recognized and embarrassing sense of entitlement with a much more energizing sense of accomplishment, I've implemented a new practice. Do at least one thing a day to further my progress.

Oh...And count to ten before swearing, screaming, or slamming. 

Time For New Stories

As I reflect on this new year, I want to share a singular thought that keeps coming to me—2018: The Year of New Stories.

I’ve decided to consider what old stories are ready to be put to bed. Those stories that might have served me in the past, or maybe never did. The stories that I don't want to take with me into 2018. And, with more room in my heart, mind, and soul, what new stories might I be able to write? To tell? To create? To live? 

Our stories can keep us stuck in old patterns, and confine us to small dreams and fruitless actions. Or, they can open the doors to new ways of being in the world and in relationship with ourselves and with one another. New stories offer us a vision of how things could be, and invite us to take daring and necessary leaps of faith. Sometimes they even weave new patterns in our hearts that allow us to make peace for the first time with who we are in all of our glory and our brokenness. 

As 2018 begins, I find my heart overflowing with gratitude for you...for those of you who are near and dear, those with whom I have only recently crossed paths for the first time, and, for those of you I may never meet but who share this planet we all call home. You matter in so many ways, and my life is abundantly filled with love, deep joy, and meaning because of what each of you bring to the world.

As human beings we are storytellers at heart, and we see ourselves in one another's stories. May we be bold, and bring forth stories worthy of telling for years to come.

With abundant gratitude.

Molly

Photo: Tom Pierson

How It Works

"There’s no nonstop flight from order to reorder. You’ve got to go through the disorder." 

- Richard Rohr

Order

 

Recently I listened to an episode of On Being, the Peabody Award winning public radio conversation and podcast, hosted by Krista Tippet. Her guest for the episode was Richard Rohr, the Franciscan priest, writer, teacher, and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico. In the midst of their rich and robust conversation, Fr. Rohr offered a simple metaphor for the path to spiritual transformation. He explained that he tells his students to imagine three boxes:

Order

Disorder

Reorder

That's how it works.

The only way to transformation is through each of the three boxes. And as much as most of us cling to the desire for order, often clawing and fighting to keep things neat, orderly, and all buttoned up, we can't leapfrog from order to reorder. That's not how it works. Disorder is part and parcel of the path to transformation. For a deeper dive into Fr. Rohr's wisdom on the subject, I highly recommend listening to the entire On Being episode, as well as reading his thought provoking Falling Upward: A Spirituality For The Two Halves of Life.

Reflecting on his three box metaphor, and juxtaposing it with life as I've come to understand it, his words ring true. It also dawns on me that we are presented with an abundance of opportunities, both grand and small, to practice walking the transformative path. As individuals, partners, families, communities, societies, and even as a species. Some of those opportunities are ours by choice. Most of them are not.

We recently had our great room and kitchen repainted. In the course of just one day, as we moved every single thing from the areas to be painted out onto the deck, we went from order to disorder. Anyone driving up to the house that day would have thought that whoever lived there must have died, and an estate sale was in progress. A week later, new paint on the walls and the painter paid, we began the process of reorder. It was sort of a fun-but-royal pain in the ass. It was also a subtle kick in the ass to arrange life differently. To take the time to put back only those things we love and that serve us well. A couple of  trips to the dump and the Goodwill later, our home is in the process of a beautiful transformation. A transformation made possible by the chaos that came before it. Prior to living amidst the disorder, we were unable to see the overcrowded forest for the familiar trees.

Disorder

The good news is that disorder is always an invitation to put life together differently. When we chose to repaint our walls, we also chose to invite disorder into our lives.

The bad new is, that's not how it usually works. We don't choose disorder. Disorder is thrust upon us.   

The landlord informs us that she has decided to sell the house we're renting, and we have 30 days to move. 

We fall into bed, desperate for a good night of sleep, and then our baby throws up, spikes a fever, and we are on the phone with the advice nurse at 2am.

At a routine check up, our doctor finds a suspicious lump.

Headed to a crucial meeting, we miss our connecting flight.

We wake up one morning to find that our car has been stolen.

On an evening walk we get hit over the head with the fact that we have been using wine as a coping mechanism for years. 

A conversation we thought would turn left, takes a sharp turn to the right.

We suddenly lose a beloved member of our family.

The financial rug gets pulled out from beneath our feet.

We cast our vote on Election Day, and wake up the day after.

Order

Disorder

Reorder

That's how it works.  

Time to get to work.

Reorder

Hide And Seek

Dear You,

Come out, come out, wherever you are. Without you, I am nothing.

Love,

The World.

When I was a little girl, as I remember it, everyone came to our house for Thanksgiving dinner. Tables were put end-to-end to make room for our extended family, and while there was a "kids table" set up, my cousins and I preferred to hide under one of the other tables. Sure that the grown-ups couldn't see us, we sat under the table as life continued on around us, and the adults played along with our little game. What with our giggles and little feet poking out from beneath the linen table cloths, we were hiding in plain sight. Sometimes we hid for the thrill of it all,  but mostly it was a strategic ploy to avoid Uncle Blake's lumpy gravy and my aunt's famous creamed onions. But eventually we had to leave our little hidey hole, and would find, much to our dismay, our untouched plates still awaiting us, and the gravy was now not only lumpy, but cold. And the creamed onions were, well, still creamed onions.

When my daughters were little girls, they loved to play hide and seek. One of their favorite hiding places was under a blanket. Sure that I couldn't see them, they sat as life continued on around them, and I played along with their little game. "Now where could they be?" I would wonder aloud, well within their earshot. What with their giggles and little feet poking out from beneath the blanket, they were hiding in plain sight. Sometimes they hid for the thrill of it all, but mostly it was a strategic ploy to avoid any unwelcome chores, or to delay the inevitable bedtime. Eventually they had to leave their little hidey hole, and would find, much to their dismay, the chores still awaited them. And bedtime was, well, still bedtime. 

Hide and seek is not only a childhood game. Most of us play it for most of our lives. And like me, my cousins, and my young daughters, we hide smack dab in the middle of the room which is our life, hoping not to be found by whatever it is that we'd rather avoid. But unlike the unwanted lumpy gravy, creamed onions, childhood chores and the inevitable bedtime, now we hide from more serious things. Pain and discomfort, unresolved issues and challenging conversations, unanswered questions and unfamiliar territory, important decisions and necessary changes. These are the things from which I have often hidden. Still do sometimes. But when I do, the game always ends the same way. With lumpy gravy.

Every one of us does it. We play hide and seek from our own life, and, we hide under tables of our own choosing. My tables have included, but are not limited to:

One too many glasses of wine.

Taking care of everyone else.

Staying busy, no matter what.

Blaming others for the state of my life.

Binge watching my latest favorite series

We hide under the blankets of our own weaving, made up of the threads of our long held stories, fears, wounds and sorrows. My blanket has been made up of fabrics including, but not limited to: 

I am not enough.

I might fail.

It's too hard.

It will be too painful. 

I don't know how it will turn out.

But our tables don't keep us safe, they keep us small. Our blankets don't protect us, they prevent us from living the life that is ours. Hiding from our lives today only means running back into them again tomorrow. Over, and over, and over, and over, and over...

So come on. 

Come out, come out wherever you are.

It's time to come out from our hidey holes and get on with our messy, complex, beautiful, imperfect, creative, compassionate, flawed, and, one-of-a-kind miraculous lives. Our life is waiting for us, and so is the world.  And, no matter how long we crouch under our tables and huddle under our blankets, those creamed onions will be, well, still creamed onions. 

 

The Dash That Connects Our Dots

This was first posted on December 5, 2015. In light of the current state of our world, it seems that the dash that connects our dots is more important than ever. Time to connect our dots in ways that heal, restore, touch the world for the good of all. Because we are all in this together. 

We have a tradition at our church.  After the sermon, called a Reflection by our community (which I think is a totally better name for it), those of us in the pews have a chance to give our two-cents worth, which often is as valuable as the message itself.  Recently there was a reflection about the importance of a hyphen, that punctuation mark defined as “the sign that connects two words”.  We were challenged to think about the connection and meaning conveyed in that small little mark. Afterwards as a few of us reflected on the Reflection, one person shared that the first thing he thought about was a childhood memory of visiting a nearby cemetery.  He would wander through the headstones, most of which gave a birth year, followed by the year of death, connected by not a hyphen, but a dash.  To be more specific, it is the En dash, as opposed to the Em dash, that is used to indicate spans or differentiation. (To read more about the dash — https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dash) That dash served to represent all the years between the beginning and end of a life.  He commented that those two dates on the headstones were in many ways the least significant, as all of the living of the person buried there was to be found in that tiny dash. Made up of every step, every thought, every word, every pain, every relationship, every breath, every…. everything of that person’s life, the beginning and the ending are but dots on either side of the lifeline that connects the first breath to the last.  An entire life is contained in that dash. 

It’s all about the dash.

Over the years, I’ve reviewed more than my share of resumes. Potential candidates for hire or promotion list their experience, starting with the most recent, and identified with the starting and end dates of that position.  A long expanse of time does not automatically equate to depth of experience or expertise. What did you learn?  What did you contribute? How have you grown? Tell me about the dash.  Nor does a short experience suggest a lack of lasting impact.  During his short time in office, prior to his assassination, John F. Kennedy’s presidency was marked by history making events and issues including the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, the establishment of the Peace Corps and the Cuban Missile Crisis.  Length of experience always counts for something.  That something is contained in the dash.  

 It’s all about the dash.

In the biblical story of creation contained between Genesis verse 1, which was the beginning of it all, and verse 31, when God saw that it was good, a lot happened in the time spanned between the those two verses.  From an endless void to a world teeming with life, whether you believe that took seven days or billions of years, that heavenly dash contains a hell of a lot.  The story is found in the dash. 

It’s all about the dash.

In the past three years we have planned as many weddings for our daughters.  The first two were beautiful, the one still in the planning stages will be so as well.  A wedding is an important event, and marks a deep commitment being made between two people.  The wedding is only the beginning.  The marriage is what happens from the moment vows are made to all of the rest of the moments when the vows are kept. Or not. The quality of the life built together by two people isn’t found in an evening of ritual and celebration, no matter how well planned, extravagant or beautiful.  A marriage is found in the dash.

It’s all about the dash.

Time is a gift.  One of our most valuable resources, it can be sliced and diced in so many ways.  Every day is a new choice, a multitude of choices about what will happen in the moments in front of us. Our life is found in our dash, as It is what connects our dots that tell the story of who we are, what we do and how we do it.  

I was born October 12, 1953.  So far, my dash, which measures about 1/16 of an inch in my favorite font, American Typewriter, contains 63 years, 3 months and 24 days.

Molly Davis

1953 - 

It’s all about the dash. 

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Go Forth and...Give Voice!

My good friend and colleague David Berry wrote an exquisite book about leadership. More specifically, A More Daring Life talks about the importance of finding our own voice of leadership at the crossroads of change. He presents this concept of voice through three distinctly different yet intricately connected lenses: The Voice of Understanding, The Voice of Connection, and, The Voice of Exploration. I'd tell you more, but then you might not do what I hope you'll do, which is to get your hands on your own copy and take a deliciously deep dive into his pages. I can't think of better fodder to kick off the year!

A few days ago, I wrote my first blog of the new year about my search for new marching orders for 2017.  Simply put, they are to Go Forth each and every day and bring all that I have to offer to a waiting world. The necklace with those two words, Go Forth, the one I wear every day and that is pictured in that blog, sits squarely between my head and my heart. And, as I learned from David's book, so does something else. My voice. He recounts an experience of discovering that on him, exactly midway between his cerebral cortex and the middle of his chest, sits his voice box. That discovery led him to the insight that it is our voice that connects our head and our heart, and that we need both in order to live and lead well. It is our voice that connects our cerebral gray matter with our blood-red hearts, conveying both what we know and how we feel, what we think and what we believe.

These are trying times. Uncertainty, strife, fear and divisive forces seem to be at work all around us. Strident voices shout from every possible outlet, and they seem to be either emotionally charged but without thoughtful substance, or a spewing of cold hard data without any heartfelt warmth. I probably can't change that tide. And neither can you. But I can bring a different kind of voice to my days, and a different kind of message to all whom I encounter. And so can you. If ever there was a need for intelligent, wholehearted communication it is now. Inside our homes and in our houses of worship, in our places of work and the gyms in which we work out, on the street and at the checkout counter, in the airport ticket line and in the evermore cramped seats on the plane, in our social media conversations and in our social circles. Everywhere life is hungry to hear thoughtful, heartfelt words meant to help and to heal, to inform and to inquire, to encourage and to empower, to challenge and to change. 

The power of our voice is immense. Our voice can change the world for good, but only when powered by both head and heart.

Go Forth and...Give Voice!

Go Forth and ...

It is a serious thing

just to be alive

on this fresh morning

in this broken world.

Mary Oliver

It's time to start writing again.

At our house, Christmas has been "put away" for another year, the Christmas decorations and nativity scene all (somewhat) carefully tucked away for a long winters nap. Family and friends have departed, and a new year has begun. I've been away from my desk for a month, and a new year always beckons me back to the page, and the need to put words down on the clean white space. I'm not much one for resolutions or goals, strategic plans or strict timelines. I am one, however, for marching orders, for a call to action that helps direct my steps in a meaningful way. We are all here, alive together, on this beautiful and broken planet, to make a difference for the good in the world that is within our reach. Making that difference is a serious thing indeed. 

What are my marching orders for 2017?

What are yours?

As I pondered what to write about, and how to connect my writing with my marching, I kept drawing a blank. I have a book coming out in February (BLUSH: Women & Wine), so I could write about that, expanding on the message in between the covers of the book. But that didn't seem to quite cut it. Last year, my marching orders were to finish that book and get its message out. But them's old marching orders. My business name is Trailhead Coaching and Consulting, so I could write about "adventures from the trail" and the importance of connecting who we are with what we do and how we do it. Nope. Not that either. One evening I decided to just get it done, and with lots of determination and a wee bit of aggravation, I sat down to brainstorm a list of themes for the year. It turned out to be a short list. As in, there was nothing on it. The harder I thought the bigger the blank I drew. So, I did what I usually do, when I can remember to do it. I quit thinking about it, and trusted that new insights and information would  rise to the surface in due time. And sure enough, it did.

The next morning, as I have every day since she gave it to me, I put on the necklace that my daughter Lauren gave me for Christmas. A small gold tag with two small words that pack a big punch. Go Forth. And just like that, those marching orders appeared. The necklace sits squarely between my head and my heart, reminding me to use both as I move through this new year, a day at a time, a moment at a time. Reminding me to be mindful and wholehearted in all that I do. 

This year, perhaps more than any in recent memory, needs our help. 2017 is a year in which we all have important work to do if we are ever to live side-by-side in the midst of our differences. This last year has taken a toll on everyone I know, and on people I will never meet. 2017 is beckoning us, it is begging us, to Go Forth, and bring all we've got to the new years party. What that means for each of us is particular. The need for it is universal. Whatever your calling, whatever your gifts, whatever your passions, whatever your deepest values, Go Forth and do. Go Forth and be. Go Forth and give. Go Forth and lead. Go Forth and serve. Go Forth and create. Go Forth and work. Go Forth and play. Go Forth and learn. Go Forth and speak up and speak out. Go Forth and listen. And no matter who you are, Go Forth and love. 

On your mark, get set...Go Forth and ...