Working For Hope

“Don’t wait for good things to happen to you. If you go out and make some good things happen, you will fill the world with hope, you will fill yourself with hope.”

~ Barack Obama

Hope is not static.

It is a noun that names a state of expectancy and anticipation, and, it is a verb that describes an active expectation and anticipation for a treasured outcome. Hope is a two-step process.

Step one is gaining clarity on a treasured outcome. The more clear the desired outcome, the stronger the state of expectancy and anticipation as we wait for our hopes to be fulfilled.

Do you want to write a book? Create a more fulfilling life? Stand on a stage and move an audience? Make a ton of money? Help heal the earth? Climb a mountain?

Step one only gets us so far.

Step two is doing something about attaining what we hope for.

Books get written by those who write. A fulfilling life might mean letting go of what and who no longer fit, in order to fit in what and who just might. The stage door opens for those with a compelling message. People will pay big money for what they deem valuable. The smallest right actions helps to restore the planet. Summiting a mountain starts with summiting a hill.

Sometimes hope looks like waiting and working your ass off all at the same time.

Walk This Way?

At the airport I almost always take the old-fashioned route to the gate. In other words, I walk under my own power rather than hopping on the moving walkway. Part of the reason is admittedly to get a bit more exercise, but it also scratches my itch to exercise my own free will.

It is so easy to fall in line with the crowd, to allow someone, or in this case, something, to dictate how to get from here to there. To take the expected route. To let the majority rule on how we do what. To allow group think to crowd out our own good thoughts.

Three of our daughters were married over the course of four years, and if ever there was a temptation to jump on to a moving walkway, that was it. Thankfully, we didn’t. Once we were done celebrating the news of each engagement, we engaged in a conversation about how to go about planning the wedding. Our way.  We actually talked about how we are the kind of family that walks to the airline gate rather than jumping on the walkway. While both end up at the same destination, the trip from here to there makes all the difference.

The weddings were spectacular, each in their own way, just like our daughters, and getting there was like a choose-your-own-adventure book. Weddings are but one example of the moving walkways that tempt us to jump on and take someone else’s ride. Does everyone need to go to college? Is choosing a life without children really less fulfilling or meaningful? Does your baby need to meet each milestone at the right time in order to be on the right developmental tract? Does patriotism have to mean standing for the anthem? If you don’t buy a house are you destined to miss the American Dream?

The next time we are tempted to step onto the moving walkway, let’s consider what we might miss by not making our own way there.  

Photo: NicoElNino, Shutterstock

The Baby & The Bath Water

Our church is currently without a pastor, and as we search for the next one, each Sunday different members of our congregation take on the responsibility for giving the reflection (aka, the sermon). It is a wonderful practice, allowing us to learn more about each other, and be inspired by one another’s stories.

This morning a dear friend stepped up to the pulpit and shared the story of the people and experiences that have helped shape her faith into what it is today. While she spoke of several significant relationships, the one that struck me the most was the influence of her mother. As it turns out, their relationship was complicated and painful. What made the story so powerful was that while she has had to live with and acknowledge the hurtful and hard parts, she has also chosen to honor and appreciate the significant and positive ways her mom influenced the faith she so values today.

Most of us are a mixed bag, and most of the time we are doing the best we can with what we’ve got to work with. However, when it comes to relationships that are different from how we wish them to be, especially one as significant as that between a daughter and a mother, it is easy to focus only on the negative and painful. My friend was able to sort out her mother’s mixed bag separating the good from the not-so-good, the wheat from the chaff, the gifts from the trash.

We can be quick to throw the out the baby with the bathwater. The story shared today was a grace-filled reminder that we don’t have to.

Prop The Door Open

“To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation.”

~ from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

This morning as I was working out in the little gym in town, I opened the door to let in the  gorgeous view of the fall colors in the distance, some fresh autumn air, and a little more light. I was facing the door while lifting some weights, when a slight breeze picked up outside, and the door slowly and quietly began to shut. It stopped about two-thirds of the way, leaving only a third of the view, fresh air, and light.

I’d forgotten to prop it open with a rock.

It is safe to say that while I am squarely in the third-third of my life, there is still a lot out there that is mine to do. More words to write, more retreats to lead, more stages from which to speak, more clients to coach, more work on which to collaborate, more adventures with the love of my life, more time with the “littles” in our family, more time with those I love, and, more to discover every step of the way.

In order to make good on what is still mine to do, I have to keep the door to whatever that is open.

So do you.

An open door keeps our vision in front of us, breathes fresh air into our work, and shines light on our steps. But the door won’t stay open of its own accord. We have to prop it open with our rock-solid commitment to pursuing the good work to which we are called, the authentic, whole-hearted lives that we are here to live, and the people whose hearts we are here to love and to touch.

The door to the life that is ours can begin to close, ever so slowly and quietly, if we don’t remember to prop it open with a rock.

Eyes Wide Shut

"Never be so focused on what you're looking for that you overlook the thing you actually find."

~Ann Patchett

For the last 10 years, my husband Tom has commuted from our home to his office in Vancouver, Washington. Leaving home on Monday morning, we had the exact same routine every week. He’d pack his bag the night before, get up early, shower, get dressed, have one cup of coffee, eat breakfast while we played one game of Backgammon, load up the car, take a travel mug of coffee, and head down our road. The routine was so familiar we could almost do it with our eyes shut.

From door to door that commute is exactly 88 miles, driven on the same stretch of road, along the same stretch of the Columbia River, in the same car. If it wasn’t so dangerous, he could almost do it with his eyes shut.

One day last year however, he almost drove off the road, and it wasn’t because he was sleepy or on auto-pilot. Quite the opposite, he was wide awake with his eyes wide open. Which is what allowed him to see this…

UNTOUCHED photo: Tom Pierson

On auto-pilot, we might get where we are going, but completely miss the trip.

(For more inspiration about coming upon the unexpected, visit a recent post by David Berry complete with sound effects.)

Creative Foraging

“The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them.”

~from Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert

I always think of spring as the signal that new life is about to emerge. Bulbs push their way up through the earth, and new buds protrude on branches. That which has lain dormant through the winter hears the wake-up call of the spring rains.

But what about the rain that arrives in the fall?

It’s raining today, and we’ve been eagerly anticipating this much needed rainfall for weeks. After another exceptionally dry summer in our neck of the woods, the threat of fire has loomed large. With this precipitation we can all start to breathe a little easier, and the trails that have been closed due to fire danger will be opened up for hearty hikers. The burn ban will be lifted soon which means that we can set off our slash piles. Hunters have a better chance of bagging an elk when the weather turns cold and wet. Leaves fall and decay, downed trees continue to rot, the earth falls silent, and new growth feels months away.

Except for the wild mushrooms.

Chantrells are the crown jewels of the fall, and we wait for the rain that will call them forth. We forage for these elusive exquisite treasures of the woods, looking for the telltale bulge at the base of a tree that gives away their hiding place. Coming home with even one of these is worth the effort it takes to find it.

Today as the rain continues to fall outside my window, I’ve started to wonder if what is true of the wild mushroom is true of our work? Fall doesn’t naturally call forth new growth as we make our way to the end of another year. This is the time we focus on hitting our goals, finishing up projects, and checking things off of our end-of-the-year lists. Our creativity falls silent, and fresh new ideas can feel months away.

But what if?

What if there is a creative jewel just waiting for to be called forth by the rain?

What if there is an elusive treasure that could be food for creative thought?

What if we started looking for the telltale sign of an idea pressing up through the soil?

Bringing forth even one of these would be worth the effort it takes to find it.

There are still three months left. Plenty of time to forage.

Photo: Stefan Holm Shutterstock ID: 86126398

Sit Down and Rest

 “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning--the sixth day...By the seventh day God had finished the work He had been doing; so on the seventh day He rested from all his work.”

~ Genesis 1:31 & 2:2

When I stepped into the atrium of the Glyptoteket (an art museum in Copenhagen, which, incidentally, is funded by the Carlsberg Foundation - as in the beer) the space took my breath away. There was something about it that made it impossible for me to do anything but sit down, and rest. 

We eventually continued our tour of the museum, lingering in front of sculptures from the ancient world. But that atrium space kept calling me back. To sit down, and rest. The air was soft, the light gentle, and the temperature warm and cool all at once. It felt like sitting in the midst of God’s newly created world. The world that was proclaimed good. Very good in fact. The one in which to remember to sit down, and rest.

In the Biblical story of creation, God brings the world into being, creating the heavens, the earth, and everything in them. As She looked over His work at the end of each day, She would proclaim it good. Very good in fact. And then...and then...on the seventh day, He does the unthinkable...She sits down (taking a little literary license here) and rests. 

We are all tiny little creators, bringing our own worlds into being. Like the creator, we work to create the world in which we live. But unlike the creator, we often forget to look out over our work and proclaim it good. Very good in fact. Also unlke the creator, we forget to sit down, (same license taken here) and rest. 

Sitting in that atrium, I was reminded of my desire to do good work. To work hard at doing work worthy of being called good. Very good in fact. The kind of work after which it feels good to sit down, and rest.

Very good work.

Followed by rest.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. World without end. Amen.

Remembering Our Affection For One Another

"But, we have always had so much more in common with each other than in disagreement."

Senator John McCain

Recently, during a conversation about our deeply divided country, and the concern we share for its future, a friend said something I haven't been able to forget: 

"We need to remember our affection for one another."

Those words resonated deeply, and they continue to reverberate in my heart like an echo off of the walls of a deep canyon. They ring as words of a distant truth that we once knew, but are in danger of forgetting.

"We need to remember our affection for one another."

As citizens, it seems we are increasingly choosing to stand on opposite sides of a deep canyon, shouting across the widening chasm at one another. I wonder, if we stopped shouting, and bent our ears to the canyon edge, might we hear the distant echos of our shared affection for one another? 

"We need to remember our affection for one another."

While I never voted for him, and I often disagreed with his perspectives, I've always felt a deep respect for Senator John McCain. I felt a kinship with him as a fellow American, and I am saddened that his fierce spirt has left the earth. But I imagine if I were to bend my ear close to the edge of the canyon, I would hear his words ringing back...

"My fellow Americans, we need to remember our affection for one another."

I offer this post in honor of and in gratitude for Senator John McCain, and am humbled and inspired by his final words below. 

A final statement from Sen. John McCain, who died Saturday at 81, read by his spokesman Rick Davis:

"My fellow Americans, whom I have gratefully served for 60 years, and especially my fellow Arizonians, thank you for the privilege of serving you and for the rewarding life that service in uniform and in public office has allowed me to lead. I've tried to serve our country honorably. I've made mistakes, but I hope my love for America will be weighed favorably against them. I've often observed that I am the luckiest person on Earth. I feel that way even now as I prepare for the end of my life. I've loved my life, all of it. 

I've had experiences, adventures, friendships enough for ten satisfying lives and I am so thankful. Like most people, I have regrets but I would not trade a day of my life in good or bad times for the best day of anybody else's. I owe the satisfaction to the love of my family. One man has never had a more loving wife or children he was prouder of than I am of mine. And I owe it to America to be connected with America's causes, liberty, equal justice, respect for the dignity of all people brings happiness more sublime that life's fleeting pleasures. Our identities and sense of worth are not circumscribed but are enlarged by serving good causes bigger than ourselves. 

Fellow Americans, that association has meant more to me than any other. I lived and died a proud American. We are citizens of the world's greatest republic. A nation of ideals, not blood and soil. We are blessed and a blessing to humanity when we uphold and advance those ideals at home and in the world. We have helped liberate more people from tyranny and poverty than ever before in history. We have acquired great wealth and power in the progress. We weaken our greatness when we confuse our patriotism with rivalries that have sown resentment and hatred and violence in all the corners of the globe. We weaken it when we hide behind walls rather than tear them down, when we doubt the power of our ideals rather than trust them to be the great force for change they have always been. We are 325 million opinionated, vociferous individuals. We argue and compete and sometimes even vilify each other in our raucous public debates. 

But, we have always had so much more in common with each other than in disagreement. If only we remember that and give each other the benefit of the presumption that we all love our country, we'll get through these challenging times. We will come through them stronger than before. We always do. Ten years ago, I had the privilege to concede defeat in the election for president. I want to end my farewell to you with heartfelt faith in Americans that I felt so powerfully that evening. I feel it powerfully still. Do not despair of our present difficulties, we believe always in the promise and greatness of America because nothing is inevitable here. Americans never quit, we never surrender, we never hide from history, we make history. Farewell fellow Americans. God bless you and god bless America." 

POLITICO

"We need to remember our affection for one another."

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.