Category Archives: Meditation

Be Brave!

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You can, you should – and it you’re brave enough to start, you will.

Stephen King

[Daily Peace, Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Society, 2015, April 4]

Stephen King has written dozens of books, some of which could be considered modern masterpieces. Two in particular come to my mind: The Green Mile and Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption. The first was written as a serial novel, with small sections released every few weeks until the whole story was told. The second was a short story. These are not horror stories, even though both deal with tragedy, inhumanity, and loss. Neither are typical of King’s usual writings – the scary books everyone has come to expect. Both were made into exceptional movies.

I wonder whether it was a difficult thing for King to write these particular tales. In addition to the usual pressure and difficulty of writing a book – creating characters and story lines, putting in enough description and action to keep the story moving, bringing the whole thing to a satisfying and fitting ending – is added the anxiety that comes from offering something unexpected to an audience that is used to the thrill of the macabre. It’s like offering a chocolate raspberry torte to a child expecting a chocolate chip cookie: who knows what the response might be, but disappointment and rejection are just as possible as delight and enthusiasm.

Perhaps the hardest part of trying something new isn’t dreaming it up or doing the research. Maybe the hardest part is putting pen to paper and writing the first word, sentence, paragraph, and page. Making the jump from going to to doing isn’t something that comes from knowing it’s possible to do or even knowing it ought to be done: it’s a leap of faith only the brave or the foolhardy can make.

Perhaps this is true in things beyond writing. Perhaps it’s true of any worthwhile endeavor.

May God grant us all the courage to take the first step.

What’s it worth to you?

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The good things in life cost what they cost. The unnecessary things are not worth it at any price. The key is being aware of the difference.

[Holiday and Hanselman, The Daily Stoic, New York: Portfolio/Penguin, 2016, p. 97]

My grandmother spent more money buying groceries than most of her friends. When asked why, she’d always say: You pay at the grocery store or the doctor’s office. One way or another, you pay. She thought it a lot more fun to spend money on food than doctor’s bills. Keeping healthy costs what it costs.

I’ve been buying groceries and making meals for over thirty years now, and spending more at the market than many of my friends and neighbors. I buy things grown and raised locally whenever possible. It adds a good $30 to my grocery bill every couple of weeks, sometimes more. I try my best not to waste any of it – composting vegetable peels, putting stale bread ends out for the squirrels and birds, making stock from chicken and turkey bones, growing herbs and vegetables in season, and making baked goods at home. Eating out or buying pre-prepped food from the market is an occasional act. At the end of the month, I doubt I pay more than anyone else to feed my family – it just takes a lot more time and planning to do it this way. Outside the yearly check-ups, visiting a doctor is very rare. I can’t help thinking my grandmother was right: you pay at the grocery store or the doctor’s office.

What about other good things in life, ones not so easily seen or touched as food on a plate? Fostering the lives of family and friends, spending time with God, enjoying the natural world, covering the basics of food, clothing, and shelter: these good things cost what they cost. Sometimes the cost is in dollars and cents handed over a counter, sometimes the cost is time away from earning money or having fewer possessions and vacations in order to be an involved parent and partner without living in constant exhaustion. Good things cost what they cost.

I can’t tell you what the good things in life cost you. In my own life, I’ve had to choose what was worthwhile and what wasn’t, because there isn’t enough time in the day, energy in my body, or money in my account to have both. I can tell you that the good things have been worth every penny, effort, and minute they cost. A joyful life, the chance to serve others, the beauty of the earth, and the loving God who holds it all.

Growth on an Empty Stomach

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What influences the ruling reason that guides your life?

[Holiday and Hanselman, The Daily Stoic, New York: Portfolio/Penguin, 2016, p. 96]

When I say I’m hungry, what I really mean is I want something to eat in the next few minutes; when my husband says he’s hungry, he means he’d like to have something to eat in the next couple of hours. We realized this difference driving from New Jersey to New Hampshire. To keep subsequent road trips pleasant, my husband adopted a new pattern: whenever I said I was hungry, he pulled over at the very next restaurant. It didn’t matter what kind food it served – as long as the place was clean, we stopped for a meal. I also changed my pattern: I made sure to bring snacks so I wouldn’t lose my sense of humor if mealtime was delayed by an hour. If we hadn’t made these adjustments, there would have been a lot more arguments in the car over the years. Low blood sugar affects my mood, my mood affects our relationship.

When I recognize the connection between lack of food and my bad mood, and I can usually compensate for my crankiness; I can keep it as in inner dialogue rather than one between me and whomever might be in the room. Still, it does affect my reasoning. Perhaps this food/feeling/action connection is why gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins – fear of hunger leads to hoarding food at the expense of self, other, and world.

I suspect that everyone has something that undermines their ability to think clearly and act wisely. Lack of sunlight for some, lack of sleep for others, God knows what else for the rest of humanity. Changing behavior to keep things on an even keel is a good option – bring the snacks, pull over at the next restaurant. But personal growth comes when recognition leads to inner dialogue rather than external damage. Accepting with grace the difficulty that can derail judgment and action and working to make sure it doesn’t. To do this can strengthen the spirit and deepen compassion for others – God’s spiritual feast that only comes when the bread doesn’t.

Perhaps it’s for people like me that Jesus reveals himself to be life-giving bread and wine…

Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread of heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”

Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life.Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” John 6:32-35 NRSV

A Matter of Choice

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You are not your body and hair-style, but your capacity for choosing well. If your choices are beautiful, so too will you be.”

Epictetus, Discourses, 3.1.39b-40a

It’s easy to confuse the image we present to the world for who we actually are…that’s what Stoics urge us to consider. Not how things appear, but what effort, activity, and choices they are the result of.

[Holiday and Hanselman, The Daily Stoic, New York: Portfolio/Penguin, 2016, p. 87]

What is a beautiful choice? What choices lead to a beautiful life? Is it possible to tell from the outside whether or not someone is beautiful? In many ways, all of my daily meditations have asked these questions. Two of the other books I’ve read in recent weeks also ask these questions, just with a different vocabulary – Desmond Tutu’s and the Dalai Lama’s Book of Joy and Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F**K. 

The difference between appearance and reality, false self and true self is common to all these books. The authors range in age from thirty-something to eighty-something, the quotes stretching back to philosophers and seekers of holiness over thousands of years. Perhaps this is why some have named sources from all religions and philosophies as the Perennial Tradition – the basic questions don’t vary much, and the answers similar in gist if not vocabulary.

I don’t want to live a life devoted to maintaining a false self – hiding from myself and the world behind a mask of my own making. How do I make wise, holy, and beautiful choices?

I don’t think the answer is particularly complex. In fact, it’s fairly simple: love God, self, and neighbor. Remember that everything is holy and beloved, even when it’s damaged and hurting/hurtful.

But simple isn’t the same thing as easy…

The most beautiful people we have know are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths.These persons have an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen. 

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross [Daily Peace, Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Society, 2015, March 19]

He has shown you, O Mortal, what is good. What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8 NRSV

Lord, give me the strength to live a truly beautiful life. Amen.

Storm and Calm Lessons

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There are some things you learn best in calm,

and some in storm.

Willa Cather

[Daily Peace, Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Society, 2015, March 17]

When the chips are down, will this person be there? My parents believed the answer to this question divided trustworthy partners from untrustworthy ones, real friends from the merely friendly. They didn’t think the answer could be found in a person’s wealth, talent, personality, or good looks. Only a storm could strip the surface appearance away to reveal the true nature underneath. This is as true for self as well as other: when the chips are down, will I be there? Knowledge of self and the other that is gained in the answering can be painful, and it cannot be unlearned – storm damage.

But not everything is best learned or revealed in storm. Calm, peace, and order provide a safe structure to grow in, and they foster flexibility and strength of spirit. It’s when the storm blows by that I can learn whether the person who wasn’t there when the wind was whipping around is not a true friend or a true friend who just made a mistake. And if I happen to be the one who ran away at the first sign of the storm, whether I’m a true friend or not is also a lesson best studied in calm.

I hope what I do with the answers to such questions has something to do with love of God, self, and neighbor. Otherwise, what’s the point of asking?

Powerless

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It went out just after nine in the morning yesterday – the second time in as many weeks that storms took down power lines throughout the area. Lights and heat, phone and computer cease their work and noise. Food in the fridge is moved to the red Coleman cooler and cell phone calls are made to Eversource to report the outage. There’s no school, public meetings are rescheduled, and neighbors check in with one another. Some birds pull seeds from one feeder while others cling to the suet feeder. The wind rattles the windows while snow drags tree branches to the ground.

There are some great things that come when the power fails: a break from electronic media, extra family time, and a chance to marvel at nature’s beauty and destructive ability. But showers aren’t pleasant without hot water, clothes can’t be washed, and prepping meals becomes something of challenge without an oven and stove. There is also a reality check involved: modern technology isn’t a given as much as it is a usually reliable but not guaranteed convenience, and without a fireplace or a generator my house gets cold.

There are lines down just around the corner and power may not be restored for a couple more days. The temperature inside the house is hovering at 50 degrees. With my older son flying in for Spring break, my younger son’s school reopening in the morning, my husband facing a full day, and my own work resuming tomorrow, it made sense to book a hotel room for the night – hot showers, warm food, and access to communications are worth the cost. At least for a single night.

It’s a blessing to remember the power of nature, and it’s a gift to be stuck at home with people I love. It’s also a blessing to move into a hotel for the night. I have the benefit of both, inconvenient graces that remind me that I’m privileged with food, clothing, and shelter. Why does it take an outage to remember this (especially in this time of reflection called Lent)?

Blessed Peace

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Reading: Matthew 5:1-11

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Matthew 5:9

You cannot find peace by avoiding life.

Sir David Hare, British screenwriter and playwright

As my friend, Bill Albritton, is fond of pointing out: it’s the peacemakers, not the peaceful who are called blessed and will be called the children of God. Not that the two are mutually exclusive – in the best of circumstances they reside together, giving a calm center to those who work for peace and spurring the ones living a serene inner life into public service and action. Peace isn’t the same thing as lack of contact with life in all its diversity. Hiding from my inner reality and shying away from the messiness of the world is a recipe for boredom and superficiality – not remotely the same thing as peace.

In the past few years, serving on a municipal board has brought its frustrations. The municipal leaders’ lack of a fruitful vision of and compassion for the people they were elected to serve has caused many a good person to throw hands in the air and walk away. Rude behavior at public meetings, refusal to recognize anything beyond personal likes or gain, and unwillingness to admit to mistakes and misjudgments are enough to make anyone angry, bitter, and exhausted physically and emotionally. No good deed goes unpunished runs through my mind at these times – not exactly biblical, but it sure feels like the truth some days.

Matching bad behavior with bad behavior won’t bring about change for the better – at least not in a permanent way. Hearts and minds are not expanded and opened by snide and demeaning comments. Sarcasm is a conversation killer, distressing to the one on the receiving end and revealing the user’s fear and mistrust of true conversation.  Even if verbal retaliation feels better in the immediate sense, it makes the encounter an act of war rather than peace. It will damage people on both sides. I’d rather have a conversation than a fight.

I don’t want to avoid life’s frustrations, and I don’t want to add to the conflict already alive and well in this world of mine. That means I have to seek peace as an internal state as well as work for peace in an all too flawed communal life. Perhaps this is the challenge of a lifetime. Perhaps it’s also a blessing…

[Quote from Daily Peace: 365 Days of Renewal, Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Society, 2017, Feb. 17]

Ashes to Ashes

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In two days, crosses of ash will be drawn on foreheads. With the swipe of a finger and a few words, Lent will begin. Some people will give up desserts or alcohol while others will add daily devotional readings and service projects. Whether adding something positive or subtracting a negative habit, a change in behavior is how most people observe Lent. It’s what I’ve done for most years of my adult life. Sometimes these actions have brought about a deeper understanding of my faith and sometimes they haven’t. But each of them created the chance for me to live with greater intention, even if only in a single aspect of my life.

For the past four years, I’ve chosen a particular topic for Lent – specific prayers or poetry, parables, deadly sins or life-giving virtues have filled this blog with words and images. Others have been kind enough to add their art or words to the mix, giving everyone (most especially me) the gift of a different voice and different perspective.

This year, I’ll be looking at some of the word gifts I’ve received over the past couple of months: The Daily Stoic, Daily Peace, and The Book of Joy. The first two were surprises, the third one I requested. All three provide opportunities to get my inner house in order, see the world around me in all its glory, and thank God for the precious life I’ve been given.

I hope you come along with me through this path of words, and perhaps add a few of your own…

Resources:

Holiday and Hanselman, The Daily Stoic: 366 meditations on wisdom, perseverance, and the art of living (New York: Portfolio/Penguin Press, 2016)

Daily Peace: 365 Days of Renewal (Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Society, 2015)

Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World (Avery, 2016)

Uncovering the Pattern

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I got a mandala scratch kit a couple of weeks back, complete with instructions, a wooden stylus, and 25 scratch squares stamped with mandala patterns –  a birthday gift of relaxation from my sister. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been tracing lines and uncovering mandala patterns as my 20 minute morning meditation activity, matching my breathing to my hand’s movements. Faithful to the tradition of mandala creation, I don’t keep the finished mandalas for very long – all things are temporary, and letting go of my own handiwork is a spiritual discipline in its own right.

It takes me three or four days to complete each scratch mandala. I take my time, choosing which shapes to uncover first, which lines to trace, what areas to uncover and what ones to leave alone. I pause every few minutes to see how my latest marks have changed the look of the whole. When the twenty minutes are over, I take some time to look at the mandala and reflect on how it served as a spiritual focus. It’s at this time that I see how my own work falls into a pattern. There’s a pattern to how I’ve uncovered the mandala pattern. If it’s a six section pattern, I reveal the same part of each section: six circles or diamond patterns standing equidistant from the center and the outer edge of the mandala. Six flower petals around the circles, six rays connecting the petals to the center, and so on. For whatever reason, this way of revealing the overall mandala pattern is satisfying to me, providing a balanced if partial pattern as I work to reveal the whole.

I shared this meditation activity with the class of high school learners I see every Sunday. At the end of the 20 minute exercise, everyone held up their mandala. Some had started in the center, working their way out of the pattern. Others had started by revealing the outer edges and working inward. One or two worked in wedges, completing one whole symmetrical section before moving onto another one. Within these overall work patterns, each person chose the order of individual elements to uncover. Each person’s approach was unique – not a single replication. Each way had its own peculiar beauty and sense.

For me, it was an illuminating experience in the literal as well as the figurative sense. Revealing the pattern by drawing out the brilliant color underneath the black surface produced an illuminated mandala; seeing each person’s unique approach to this spiritual practice revealed his or her particular embodiment of God’s grace and holiness. Being a part of such an extraordinary moment in time and space, how can I be anything but awestruck by this sacred place and these sacred people?

Snow(y) Day

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Tuesday, January 30, 2018

It’s a snowy day, and a school-is-cancelled snow day. After an indoor morning of prayer, writing, and cleaning, I am happy to see that the winds and driving snow have given way to a light breeze and an occasional snowflake. I put on my winter clothes and walk into nature’s crystal white. My street has been plowed, but no one is outside. It’s just me until I turn onto High street. A mother and daughter are shoveling their driveway a few houses down, and the two little girls who live in the big white house are making angels while their mother and uncle look on. Once every minute or so, a car or truck passes. In between, there’s only the scrape of shovels and the crunch of boots to break the peaceful quiet of this place.

No one’s walked on the sidewalks in the past few hours, and only a couple of homeowners have cleared the sections in front of their houses. I think I see the faint print of a boot every so often – someone who walked early in the morning, perhaps. Just like Peter in Keats’ The Snowy Day, I make different patterns in the snow by pointing my feet in or out, or by dragging them to make two long lines. It’s one of my favorite children’s books, one I loved as a young child and I loved as the mother of young children. As I make my marks in the snow, I wonder how many other people have done the same because of Keats’ words and pictures – millions, I’d guess.

The wind has made snowdrifts across parts of the sidewalk and swept other parts almost clean. Mother nature seems happy to give my feet a varied path and my eyes a feast of snowy geometry and graceful evergreen. I’m so glad I came outside. I wouldn’t have missed the sharp fresh air, the joy of this walk, or the beauty of my blanketed neighborhood for anything.