Pick a Little, Talk a Little

The transformation of our lives is not an easy process. We want to think there is a distinct “before” and “after”, a beginning and end. We want it to be something we get through and then are done with, free and clear on the other side of trouble and lack.


Time proves, however, that the transformation is never truly complete. Even our death, apparently, is not an end, but simply a shift into a new way of being, a reincarnation, a spiritual dance in another dimension, or just the leisurely nine lives of a cat, resting up before beginning all over again.

In truth, we move from these moments to moments, experiencing the highs and lows sometimes in perfect and exhilarating understanding and others mystified and oblivious. We crave purpose and meaning and sometimes act in ways that utterly defy logic. We yearn for definition in everything and celebrate magic in the most important.

Life is a mystery and our faith in everything and nothing keeps us going.

This tirade is born out of a weekend of frustration, stumbling along with no real purpose, motivation or imagination. For no understandable reason and despite surroundings of hope and prosperity, I went through the motions of participation and internally despaired.

Since my conversation with the wonderful astrologer Tom Lescher last month, I have been on a spiritual vacation. The hiatus was neither planned nor comfortable, but simply evolved out of earthly distractions and requirements that focused my attention directly on the steps right in front of me. One foot in front of the other, one moment to the next, in the now, but more drone-like than monk, I have persevered.

Having professed and committed to the idea that abundance is directly related to the pursuit of passion, it was disturbing to notice in how many ways I have been abandoning those very activities reacquired that make me feel so passionate and powerful. It culminated this weekend in a lethargy so frustrating, darkness and dawns came and went and fear mounted that my purpose seemed to wallow in a state of non-purpose.

Like an Escher print that has two different images, depending on our focus, my world hovered between two perceptions. No matter how much I celebrated the one intellectually, my heart seemed sobered by a more dismal projection.

Movement seems to be a key to relinquishing the chains. Instead of moping and staying settled in the darkness, shaking myself physically was the antidote to the doldrums that had weighed so heavily. I played soccer. I forced myself through some chores that had been necessary. I drove myself in circles around town and tried not to worry about it, but allowed the pleasure of the golden leaves to be enough.

Most importantly, in these rougher times, judgment should be suspended. If we allow the flow to stop flowing once in a while and settle in to the darkness, the dawn of a new day can seem quite beautiful and a welcome transformation from the troubled and sleep-depriving thoughts. A month without writing essays or networking emails does not necessarily portend regression, but can simply be a re-alignment, a change of pitchers or just one of those precious nine lives of resting cashed in as part of an auspicious purpose.

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Lightshine

Upon hearing that I am looking for a roommate to help with expenses now that my son is off to college, a well-meaning friend advised that I should choose someone young, fresh and full of energy.

            "The kind of man your age," it was suggested, "Who would be able only  to rent a room would indicate struggle and you need no more of that in your life."

            Like seeing that my apartment is "on the wrong side of the tracks" as opposed to being on an acre of land by the side of a river, the view of my external life can easily overshadow the brilliance of faith and spirit that illuminates my core.  My friend loves me well for who I am, but the advice hits home as hard as the tree fallen in a rash summer storm.

            We each know the internal song that resounds in the heart, but our voices may not always resonate as strongly and in tune as we wish to sing.  At times, the struggle can over-whelm and dim our spirits.

            Another friend recently confided that it is difficult to hold a faith in God's love when her husband lost his job and ten years of impeccable effort has yet to re-secure any solid footing on the ground they once took for granted.  No apparent crime in their past seems to justify the price of daily stress and sacrifice they have to suffer to keep a roof over their children's heads.  That others may have it worse is little consolation.

            Last winter, I weaned myself from my father's financial help and, physically and emotionally healed, have once again set myself on the road of living with passion and pursuing my dreams.  Immediately, there has been a corresponding decline in the number of blog entries and creative projects.  Once again, my guitar rarely sees the light of an opened case.

            Still other friends have suggested that the apparent lack of financial prosperity today may have something to do with integrity.  The karmic bill of running a business too short on stability and long on promises may be taking its toll now and in future lives until I make emotional restitution to the demons of my past decisions.

            This morning before dawn, I awoke with a beating heart, compulsively recounting bills and affirming there is not enough income to make ends meet. If I were content to sit at home with no internet connection and no interest in paying my son's tuition, at least I have reached the point that expenses could easily be met and there would be no need for a roommate nor sign of financial struggle. 

            If I could live without the love of friends and family, I could be doing quite well, thank you very much...

            But for most of us, that is impossible and certainly unacceptable.  Every time I think the message is to not give away so much, but take care of myself first, I lose sight of the rich and fecund forest right outside my door and think it must be a lot better over there on the other side of the tracks.

            Our faith is reflected in the love of those around us and regenerated in the way we take care of each other.  How we live is a better indication of our worth than where we live.  So each day, those terrifying thoughts that force me to open my eyes must be shoved aside by the actions of pushing my pen across this page, allowing the love to flow and my faith in the purpose of life to be restored.

            The danger comes when we are so absorbed in the math, we lose our grip on the love that surrounds us.  Fear builds walls and contracts our energy into reactive improvisations.  The weeds grow thick among the trees and our forests become polluted and full of junk or clear-cut for profit.

            Love is expansive, cutting through the tangles and radiating outwards like sunshine that draws others out of their own dark places.  Our faith is a choice, something available to us like a warm blanket in every chilling moment.  It is nurtured and affirmed by action.

            No matter our age or the amount of struggle, the more we open our hearts and love each other, the more brilliance is radiated from this tiny planet into the dark recesses of this vast and wonderful universe.

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Rising Moon Over Disorientation

The full moon energy is strong tonight. Mercury is retrograde for another week. In Vermont, we've already had May and it's only April.

No wonder my head is swirling.

On an earthly plane, very few words have been scribbled on this blog or notes strummed on my guitar in the past few months. The creative energy is on hold while I wrestle (once again) with the effort to pay bills on the table and gas in the car.

Intently focused for days in a row on that purpose, on the specific and unending tasks of putting order into my life, by tonight, my ability to concentrate seems to have vanished and I wander around in a daze. Doing a little carpentry, I can't find my tape measure. Researching the internet for details to put in a content article, I stare at the screen unable to discern which link I should click.

Where do I want to go anyway?

It is so easy for us to get lost in our minds, swept away by events of the day and endless tasks that must be accomplished. Our minds are focused and concentrated, yet we seem to be on auto-pilot, cerebrally detached from the activities in front of us.

The phrase "Stop and smell the roses" comes to mind. In this fog of over-activity, it is important to look around and remind yourself what this effort is for. We are so constantly bombarded with information and demands for our attention, we can lose sight of the real treasures. The love for what we do can fade into invisibility.

Breathe.

Turn away from the computer. Pull to the side of the road. Turn off the television. Lay down your tool. Look at the sky. Take in the magnificent wonder of the full moon as it rises over your life and reassures you that there is something deeper, far more powerful going on.

Sit down and stare at the water trickling past in a stream alongside or even out of the faucet. Drink of the sustenance that nature provides in every moment if we can only remember to consider its beauty. In every day, there must be moments when the rush and hustle of activity is suspended to exercise the vital organs within.

Full or new, the moon shines on us with love. The sun radiantly infuses us with energy. The spectacular mountain rising overhead is no more grand than the intricate anthill and its complex system of order and chaos. In every moment, there is the opportunity to rediscover the miracle of our lives.

Whether I write, sing or simply appreciate it in the silent moment of my own self, pausing to regenerate my spirit is the ultimate activity that makes all the rest productive with meaning instead of just one more over-whelming task.

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Guest Post: Kate Loving Shenk

As I have been so very busy of late pursuing other projects, I am pleased to present Kate Loving Shenk, an internet friend of mine met last summer through a telesummit about writing transformational books.  Kate is leaping forward with fierce determination to spread good prayers in the world and I invite you to get to know her work a little better.


(There's a pause button on the music icon to the right so you can hear her better)



Welcome to day # 3 of the Prayer Prescription: Spiritual Remedies For Long Lasting Health Virtual Book Tour! Kip is gracious to feature my book on his blog today, and I thank him very much.

I joke around in this video about Zen and the Art of the Prayer Prescription, a take off on Kip's own book, Zen And The Art Of The Mid-Life Crisis. Let's face it, we all have such a crisis, at one time if not more times in our lives. I started writing prayers as a last ditch attempt to save my own life, because various family issues were looming precariously over a cliff, and my beloved dogs were soon going to pass on to the next dimension.

Writing prayers has a calming effect on the psyche. When the inside is at peace, nothing on the outside can go wrong. The harmonizing effect of prayer tends to quiet the mind and brings peace to every other mind, also. It truly is a miracle.

Thank you for celebrating the publication of my book with Kip and me. The book is due for publication in mid to end of May.

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I'd like you to stop by my author blog. There's a lot going on there and we'll have an opportunity to connect there. Please be sure to introduce yourself!

http://katelovingshenk.com

Kate has been a practicing RN/CRNP for 28 years, and currently acts as a Labor And Delivery Nurse, which is very special, indeed.

Additionally, Kate is planning further “Prayer Prescriptions” books surrounding aging gracefully and Prayer Prescriptions For The Love Of Our Companion Animals.

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