Category Archives: Relationships

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“I”, Myself, and Ego

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Who am I, anyway?

My mother suggested that I may be becoming a “Buddapalian”, blending Buddhism and Episcopalian traditions.  The point of divergence between the two is a critical juncture, then.  The Christian tradition supposes a Creator God who is superior in every way to the created human and source of everything in the universe.  Humans are morally inferior and have been instructed that obedience and subservience is the correct posture to take in relationship with God.  We need to be saved and cannot do that for ourselves.  God gets credit and blame for everything in this world view, really.  Humans fall and fail but aren’t ultimately responsible for that, as God set the whole thing up in the first place as author and initiator of the salvation story.  Throughout my life, this story dominated my thinking.

Then someone asked the question, “Why does there have to be a Source of life?  What if that’s just a human construct?”  We humans are used to doing and making things and finding cause and effect.  We see ourselves as agents, and so we assume agency is the way the world began.  Maybe it isn’t.  Buddhism talks about conditions “arising” so that something is manifest, and then conditions change and the thing is not manifest.  There is no agent.  Humans aren’t a Creator’s creature, we are a life form that arose out of certain conditions.  We can be aware of conditions and grateful for them.  Steve once looked around on a sunny day, spread his arms wide and said, “Who do I thank?”  It seemed a very natural question, and being the human I am, I wanted to give him an answer.  I couldn’t prove that answer was true, however.  He also asked me about being separated from God and needing salvation.  “What if you’re not?”  I had to begin to look to experience to answer that.  I don’t feel separated from Life.  I don’t see Life being separated from anything, even Death.  They seem more like two sides of the same coin.  I see this more and more as I study the natural world.

A humble smile

So what is a sentient being’s responsibility and position in life?  That’s what I am working out.  I don’t know that I need to feel superior or inferior to any other being that lives.  I am not the Source of most of the wonderful things in life, so I don’t thank myself for them, but I do want to take responsibility for my decisions, my actions, my thoughts and my attitudes.  Both Christianity and Buddhism have a lot to teach about responsibility and ego.  Their teaching comes from very different basic suppositions about the world, but both come to a place of humility.  I am a life form with a pretty complex brain that enables me to be aware of quite a bit…including the fact that this brain dominates my world view but not the world.  So I take it with a grain of salt and try to be open and do my best to respect everything.

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Going Deeper

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‘There is something rich and alive in these people. They want to be able to breathe the Great Breath. They are like children, helpless. And then they’re like demons. But somewhere, I believe, they want the breath of life and the communion of the brave, more than anything.’

She was surprised at herself, suddenly using this language. But her weariness and her sense of devastation had been so complete, that the Other Breath in the air, and the bluish dark power in the earth had become, almost suddenly, more real to her than so-called reality. Concrete, jarring, exasperating reality had melted away, and a soft world of potency stood in its place, the velvety dark flux from the earth, the delicate yet supreme life-breath in the inner air. Behind the fierce sun the dark eyes of a deeper sun were watching, and between the bluish ribs of the mountains a powerful heart was secretly beating, the heart of the earth.  — from The Plumed Serpent by D. H. Lawrence

Steve and I are reading this novel aloud.  The chapter that follows this quote describes a sensual ritual inspired by the god Quetzalcoatl.  D.H. writes with a rhythmic repetition that is especially enhanced in the hearing of it.  The protagonist, Kate, is an Irish woman opening herself to the experience of Mexico in the 1920s; the political and racial and sexual tensions pulsate under the glaring sun and a dark softness broods beneath them.  Last night, we listened to some selections of Richard Strauss (Four Last Songs), Shostakovich (Movements III and IV of the 5th symphony), and Wagner (prelude and Liebestod from “Tristan und Isolde”) and talked about sinking into deeper places in the soul.  Obsession, ego, openness, control.  And under-girding it all, the space for life and love to unfold, which I might call “God”.  It’s like moving from a caress to a deep-tissue massage.  How much can you stand?  Does it feel dangerous?  I feel a “safety valve” kick in when I am in that dark night which always brings me back to the light.  I don’t know if that’s my ego wrestling control out of the situation or an intrinsic optimism that says that the space where everything takes place is basically safe.  When I am seized by grief or anxiety, I can only cry so much…and then I stop.  Steve seems to have a Slavic tolerance for brooding that far exceeds mine.

And today, Steve is dizzy and nauseated.  He took an antihistamine yesterday for his allergies, and he never takes drugs.  So he is sleeping it off beside me, breathing deeply and regularly.  A squirrel hangs upside down outside the window eating maple seeds amid the green and golden foliage.  The body, bodies, the earth: we move in and out of shadow and sunshine and time.  Nothing lasts, not brooding or joy, cohesion or disbursement.  The universe is in motion.  No wonder we feel dizzy sometimes.

Sky and water on a moving planet

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Discoveries

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In 14 hundred and ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue…

Happy Columbus Day.  In my family, the tradition is to play selections from Stan Freeburg’s “The United States of America” on this day.  Especially the song “It’s a Round, Round World”.  Just because it’s silly and we’ve memorized the whole record.  Yes, record.  As in vinyl.  It was from Jim’s collection.

“You have a dream?”  “Yes, I do.”   “Would you like to talk about it?”

Yes, I would.  My dream is to live a life of discovery, to open my eyes and ears and arms and senses to the vast experiences of this round, round world.  To open my mind to possibilities for living, to find ways of peace, of tolerance and acceptance.  To learn from the earth, from the other living things around me, what it is to be in harmony with my surroundings.  I want to discover how to live in grace.

To look far off

and close up

to notice relationships

and contrasts

Awareness, appreciation, attitude, action, activism and education.  Discovery, embodiment, and teaching.  The way of the bodhisattva, actually.

Yes, that’s my dream.

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Squirrely Business

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A whole lot of chattering is going on in the trees outside my bedroom window.  A whole lot of rustling is going on below.  Animals are harvesting and gathering and hiding food away for the winter.  We have a special friend whom I call Itchy Twitchy.  He sits on the fence above our landlord’s garbage can and munches on whatever he’s gleaned from inside it.  He has (or his friends have) chewed a couple of holes in the plastic can big enough to fit through, so he has easy access to the people food in the bottom.  I have found him working on Eggo waffles and chicken legs before.  When he’s not eating, he’s itching and scratching.  He probably has some kind of insect parasite problem.  He has to do some pretty nifty acrobatics to clean thoroughly while still perched on the fence.

 

Sometimes it looks as if he has a belly ache from something he ate.

I really appreciate his visits.  He reminds me that despite my suburban surroundings, there are other critters making a living here besides the human neighbors.  Steve and I were talking about hubris and anthropocentricism at dinner again, and we keep coming back to a desire to be open to the wider world.  I think my landlord considers Itchy a pest, and he keeps saying, “Yeah, I need to get a new can.”  But he hasn’t done it yet.  I’m not sure waffles are the best squirrel food, though.  Maybe it would be better to fix the can and put out the occasional corn cob or plant sunflowers and echinacea?

I have grand ideas about saving the planet, but maybe I should start in my own back yard and figure out how to have a good relationship with the squirrels first.  In other words, address my own hubris.

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Righteous Depression

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Ya know, in general, I think I’m a pretty happy, positive person.  I want to be like that.  Also peaceful, calm and occasionally insanely silly.  I did have a wicked period of postpartum depression after my first child was born and a bout with post-traumatic stress syndrome when Jim had heart surgery at 31. Okay, but I’m a pretty happy person, I think.  I’ve noticed now that since I’m a widow, if I get started crying about something, I can go on leaking for hours.  Now, could this be due to my new agenda of trying to face the reality of the world honestly?  The truth is the truth hurts.  Suffering exists in the world.  Various coping strategies and religions exist primarily to soften the blow of that blunt piece of honesty.  I am trying to be open, and it leaves me vulnerable.  Ouch.  It felt better to be Polyanna.

What to do about the responsibility and challenge to look deeply into the suffering of the planet, to become aware of the failures of systems and cultures, of relationships and communication from the large-scale to the intimate?  I feel sad about the truth.  Can I call this righteous depression?  Is this deep or simply pathological?

I am suddenly reminded of one of my life stories.  My sister and I were in a car accident when I was 17 and she was 20.  She was driving, and flipped the car at 80 miles per hour on the Interstate.  We were transported in an ambulance together to the Lincoln, NE hospital.  I was aware that they had been doing CPR on her the whole time with no response.  I had seen her covered in blood slumped next to me in the car before I was extricated from it.  I was in shock, but I was able to comprehend what was going on.  The hospital has policies about who can release information to patients, though, and everything must be done according to protocol.  So I found myself in an examining room with a nurse.  I had been checked out and aside from a bump on the head and some cuts, I am fine.  I know that my sister is not fine.   A nurse comes in and sits in the chair in the corner and says something about how they’re also examining my sister.  “It’s very bad,” she says, looking worried and vague, but directly at me.  “It’s just very bad.”  I felt like she was trying to talk to me in code or something.  She wanted to say something specific, but she couldn’t.  Instead, she just kept repeating how bad it was.  Was this supposed to prepare me for something?  Or was it supposed to fill me with a sense of doom and dread?  I realize she was probably a very sympathetic woman who felt terrible at being in the position of not having more comforting things to say or even more authority to speak the truth.  The result was just….awkward.  What do I do with this?  I suppose I could put her out of her misery and say, “It’s okay.  I’ve guessed that she’s dead.  I will deal with it.  I have a plan.”  Honestly, this is what I want to do in these situations.  I want to take responsibility and make everyone around me feel better.  Then I suppose I can feel righteously depressed.  It’s bad; it’s very bad, but I am going to try to do the right thing.

There are some very seriously bad things happening around us.  Global climate change, deforestation, greenhouse gases, ozone depletion, drought, famine, economic devastation, war, oppression and domination, political atrocities, nuclear poisoning, chemical poisoning, racial hatred, bullying, on and on and on.  How much of this can I be open to?  What if I bit off just a tiny portion and tried to chew on that only, to save myself from being overwhelmed?  What if I tried to absorb the totality and sank into a dark depression?  What do we do with deep sadness?  Share it?  Ignore it?  Fight it?  Meditate?  I’m open to suggestions.

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You’re Grounded!

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I have this thing about wanting to do things “right”.  I grew up with a strict father who had a clear sense of what he thought was right, and I was always trying to please him.  I find myself feeling anxious about whether or not I’ve made the right decisions or acted in the best possible way or been “good” in every way I can.  The more interactions I have, the more I have to feel anxious about.  So, in a busy week, I feel more stress.  Yesterday, I spent 7 hours making pea soup.  It turned out fine, although I had to do some re-direction and repair in the middle (turns out that whole dried peas don’t cook the same way as split peas).  Not a big deal, but I felt like I had “failed” to be super-efficient and triumphant in that endeavor.  My relationship with my cooking contained some anxiety and thus drained energy from me rather than invigorating me.  We have a relationship to everything on the planet, and this is living.  Living can be a drain, or it can be energizing, or anywhere in between.  It depends on whether you’re blocking energy or “surfing” on it.  In other words, you can be at war with life, or you can be at peace with it.  Our relationship with food is a good example of this.  Did you know that the use of pesticides and herbicides came out of the technology of WWI?  The chemicals that were developed for warfare were applied to food production.  Agribusiness declared war on the earth in order to use its technology and generate a wartime economy.  Conflict, manipulation, “strong-arming” the earth in order to wrestle food from it is a particular kind of relationship.  Organic farming uses a more peaceful relationship to obtain food, working with nature and not against it.

I have been trained, in a way, to think that doing things in a prescribed “right” way is the least stressful.  I have been a pretty compliant person.  But this anxiety of compliance also produces stress.  Is there another way?  Yes.  Being grounded and open.  I’m never going to know the “right” way to do everything because there isn’t a right way.  There are a million ways.  And that’s okay.  Steve and my sister share a birthday.  They both have a way of reminding me that the way I am is wonderful, but it’s not the only way.  They both play “devil’s advocate” and bring up something that I hadn’t thought about without saying I’m wrong.  It took me some time to take this as a gift and not as a chastisement.  I was used to taking everything short of complete praise as chastisement.  I used to be somewhat afraid of both of these important people whom I love so much.  They are challenging (and they are smarter than I am).  I have a relationship with them that can be conflictual or peaceful depending on my posture of defensiveness or openness.

So, I’m still thinking about all my relationships to the residents of earth, from the dominant one I have with Steve (three year anniversary today of our very first date) to the invisible ones I have with the bacteria in my own body.   My sister points out that “What are you feeling?” is perhaps a better question than “How are you feeling?”  What am I feeling in these relationships?  Am I feeling energized?  Drained?  Peaceful?  Afraid? Stiff? Open? Anxious?  Sad? Mad? Glad?  Being open to what I’m feeling allows discussion and movement and flow and change.

Letting go of the anxiety of having “right” relationships and exploring what I feel is what I mean by being grounded and open.  What surfaces in our relationships to other species when we do this?  Here’s one thing that came to mind: the euthanizing of animals who have attacked humans.  I have read several news articles lately about grizzly bear attacks, wild cat attacks and even a deer attack (a buck with antlers that inflicted some serious wounds) that ended with the report that these animals “had to be euthanized”.  I always thought that euthanasia was “mercy killing”, like putting a wounded animal out of its misery.  These stories don’t indicate that the animals were in misery, they were simply protecting territory or defending themselves from a perceived threat.  It seems that they were killed as a punishment for attacking a human.  Some of the articles mention that the possibility of rabies warrants “mercy”, but the animal is killed before any diagnosis of rabies is made.   What is the feeling?  Do these animals need to be punished because they’ve injured a human?  Is this about anger and a preference for humans?  Are we at war with animals?  If we end up in the same place at the same time, is it kill or be killed because you are my enemy?   Why shouldn’t an animal take out a human who has shot at it or who represents a food source in a depleted environment?  Are we somehow exempt from being in that kind of relationship?  Why?  For that matter, are we supposed to be exempt from being on the “losing” side of a relationship with listeria bacteria?  Are we “better” or “more valuable”?  Why? (or why not?)

How much can we be open to in our relationships with the world?

What do you feel about buzzards?

What about lotus flowers?

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Juxtaposed on a Planet

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Last night I wondered why I’m not an insect.  There are only 4,000 species of mammals on the earth and over 100,000 species of insects.  There are even more microbes.  I was thinking how simply one of those animals lives in the soil, a short life with clear intent.  My life as a human seems so much more complicated.  Even so, by human standards, my life is pretty simple now.  I don’t have a job, and I’m done raising kids.  Today, I walked to a restaurant to have breakfast with Steve and his mom, then walked to the grocery store to buy vegetables.  I am making soup and working on the computer.  I made a phone call to my mother and left a voice message.  Pretty uneventful, you might say, but still involving a lot of decisions.  How did I impact the planet today?  Why did I buy that item?  Why did I use electricity?  Why did I throw that in the garbage?  Where did I spend my time and energy and why?  How did I get here, where I am today?

Yesterday I felt pretty exhausted by my busy week.  Socially, I had spent time with all my family and Steve’s plus met strangers on our camping trip.  Geographically, I had covered over 500 miles.  Physically, I had hiked some but sat in a car more.  Psychically, I had given a lot of energy to my most important relationships.  When I’m with my kids, I feel nameless parts of myself going out to them.  I look at them, all 4 together with full-grown energy, and I feel spent in some way.  I wonder about insects who live to reproduce and then die in a matter of hours.  That seems pretty simple.  What do I do with the years I may still be living?

The web of interconnections on the planet is unfathomable.  I feel like I dabble my foot in here and there, watching ripples emanate and then wonder what I did.  What was the meaning, what will be the result, was that responsible?  I have awareness but not full understanding.  I have appreciation and take action based on my best intentions, and may never even know the impact.  I am not in control.  I wonder if simplifying my life is really an effort to have more control.  I suppose I act in faith, as does everyone, in the end.

Sometimes the things that I see connected here on earth don’t make much sense.  How did we get giraffes in Madison WI?

Barn, windmill, maple tree, giraffe. One of these things is not like the others.

My human brain wants to separate things and put them into tidy, little boxes organized by my own way of thinking.  I want a rational world, everything doing its job in its place.  Then, all I have to do is figure out what my job is and what my place is and do it.  No more problems, no more conundrums, no more philosophical issues.  Neat.  Ah, but as Alan Watts says, the world is “wiggly”.  Lines are blurred.  Connections are made, broken, re-made, detoured, disappear, and appear willy-nilly.  Is there something I must do?  My energy is spent just thinking about it sometimes.  I suppose there is another way, a Middle Way, a way that has to do with finding the flow of energy and going with it.  I found a website today that talks about our ecological thoughtprint.  Before we place a footprint on the planet, or maybe as we place our footprints on the planet, we have a thoughtprint.  Learning about how we think about our connections and using that knowledge to help us to make better connections is a valuable lesson.  Education doesn’t begin with an A, but I think it belongs in the ‘awareness, appreciation, action, attitude, activism’ list.

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Gracious Living

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So today is about the ancient grace of hospitality.  We are finally having Steve’s sister and brother-in-law over for dinner.  I am excited to host them here for the first time.  I’m making a Dijon-rosemary pork tenderloin with red potatoes, Brussels sprouts, and butternut squash.  We’ll sip martinis and nibble on Stilton cheese and Kalamata olives to begin with, and Cheryl’s bringing the wine and dessert.  It brings back memories of the anticipation in the air when my mother would have one of her gourmet dinner parties.  Of course, hers were on a much grander scale.  There is housecleaning to do first.  The meat’s been marinating since last night.  The squash goes in the crock pot 4 hours in advance.  I think of Middle Eastern feasts that take days to prepare and days to consume, and I figure I’m striking a balance.  Not too fussy, but some fussing.  I want to communicate that they definitely merit some special effort, but I want to be able to enjoy their company when they get here and not be rushing off to the kitchen to babysit the food.

No shortage of "conversation pieces" in our home!

I have an endless fascination with family.  I came from a family of 7.  Steve just has one sister and neither of them have children.  The dynamics in his family are completely unique, of course.  I suppose I am looking for clues about why he is the way he is and why that is different from the way I am.   I am building appreciation and understanding with every opportunity I have to interact with them.  I want to be open to whatever the evening will bring.  I want to be fully present and aware.  And around the edges of my consciousness, I know that I want to make a good impression so that they like me.  That’s my people-pleasing habit, my achievement-oriented perfectionism.  I always want to earn gold stars so that I can pat myself on the back and feel affirmed.  So, yeah, that’s duly noted and released, like those wandering thoughts I have in meditation.

Building community is essential to the unity I was writing about yesterday.  I suppose that we start practicing that in families.  I will be keeping that in mind and will write more of about that as the next step in our Saving the Planet dialogue.

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Biological Diversity

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Today, a group of special needs adults came to the Wehr Nature Center for a field trip.  They saw a puppet show about how animals survive the winter.  We passed the puppets among them to let them meet the characters before the show.  Afterwards, we passed some real animals around, a box turtle and a snake named Fancy, for them to touch “with one finger”.   Then, we divided the group in half and went outside.  Those that were more ambulatory took a walk around the nature center, the others sat up on the observation deck overlooking the pond.  This was a very diverse group, and I couldn’t tell what they were noticing or taking in.  We tried to point out things that they could see, hear, touch, or smell (we didn’t dare do any tasting!).  Some of them were pretty absorbed by their own selves and other people in the group.  Some were able to engage at times in what was around them on the path.  One man, Charlie, pointed up to a tree covered with Virginia creeper vines that had turned red and just started laughing!  He was so excited!  I loved that reaction.  That made my day.  Lester spent the time pointing out behaviors in the group or hiding behind people.  He held my hand for a while on the trail.  When we all congregated on the observation deck, he introduced some of his friends to the staff, one by one.  Finally, we got them all loaded back on the bus and waved good-bye.  There were 30 in all, including 2 in wheelchairs.  Most were men.  All the caregivers were women.

This made Charlie laugh

I am grateful to have been reminded that biological diversity includes every species and every variation in the species, including ours.  Respecting and including all of life is an exercise in awareness every moment of every day.  I want to be able to be gracious and friendly to every living thing I encounter, and I want to put myself in a position to encounter a wide variety.  I suppose that is my desire for my own edification, but I think that it is advantageous for everyone and builds tolerance and peace in the world.  Observing people in nature is interesting.  Some of the volunteers were talking about kids who react negatively to things in nature.  One girl got very agitated and upset over the sticker-burrs that were clinging to her sweater after a hike.  It makes you wonder how unfamiliar she must have been with the outdoors.  We are often scared by things that are unknown.  As we understand things better, we are able to be more compassionate.  Steve’s favorite Bible verse is “For God so loved the world…” and he stops there.  God loves the world.  Steve loves the world.  What would be the result if more people learned to love the world and taught their children to do the same?  “And it was very good.”

I love Turtles

I love the colors and textures under my feet

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Sundays: Prayers and Practices

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Sundays were full of ritual in our house.  We went to church every week to sing in the choir, to serve at the altar, to teach or learn in Sunday School, and to meet up with familiar folk.  There were the formal rituals of the liturgy and the informal rituals of getting everyone up and dressed and in the car.  After church, we had rituals of brunching on bagels and sleeping in front of the Bears’ game.  These habits gave our Sundays a certain shape and form that became very comfortable to me.  I didn’t think very hard about them after a while.  They seemed fairly easy and routine, a balance of early busy-ness and later laziness.  We’d dress up and then let down.  It was what we did, week after week.  Gradually, this practice began to unravel as the kids grew up, moved out, and developed their own habits.  When they came back into my home, this routine was questioned.  Do I have to get up and dress up and go to church?  I’m used to sleeping in on Sundays now.  Why do you do this routine anyway?  Is it obligation?  Okay, you committed to being in the choir.   You’re obligated, I’m not.  Do you think I’m obligated to you because you’re my mother?  It became obvious that it was time to think critically about our family habits and evaluate them.  I admit that I was not above manipulation.  I  liked to have my kids with me in church.  I liked to hear them sing.  I liked being seen by others as a mother with devoted children.  I wanted to have time together as a family because I worried about how ‘dysfunctional’ we were becoming.  I thought I could get what I wanted by imposing ‘rules’, but when my authority over them came into question, I resorted to bribing them with food…or guilt.  “It’s a family thing!  Don’t you want to go to brunch at Egg Harbor with us?”  Occasionally, I would even be satisfied if they skipped church and met up with us at a restaurant afterwards.

After Jim died and I began dating Steve, I invited him to come to church with me.  He observed the whole morning routine respectfully and rather silently.  I finally asked for his feedback.  His first comment was that I had become a totally different person than the one he knew.  I had adopted a persona that he didn’t recognize.  I had put on my social ‘face’ and performed my part in the choir, but he saw nothing of the spirituality we talked about while hiking in the prairie.  He asked me whether I thought my church habits contributed to my spiritual growth, and I couldn’t answer right away.  He also asked me why I neglected to inquire about his bagel preferences when I picked up brunch afterwards.  That was embarrassing!  I was in my familiar bubble and not even thinking about my guest.  “We always do it this way, and you can just follow along,” is something I am very used to accepting and enforcing.  Steve doesn’t like to be treated that way, though.  He values participating as an equal in what is happening.   His theological questions came next.  If you’ve never been to an Episcopal mass before, you would probably be bursting with questions about the symbolism alone by the end of the service.  Steve was wondering if there would be an occasion that he could stand up and ask about what was going on.   Can you imagine?  “Uh, excuse me?  Hi.  I’m Steve and this is my first time here.  Can you tell my why you’re doing that with that cup (or candle or incense diffuser or garment or….) and what that means?”  I had to admit that the whole social construct was not designed to be very inclusive or open.  It was another case of “we always do it this way, and you can just follow along”.  I began to wonder how much of my long-standing religious faith was about simply following along.

Holy Hill, from far away

Here, I am living without religious habit or routine for the first time in my life.  I have decided that I don’t want to live without practice, though, because practice leads to mindfulness.  I am working out how and what to practice.  Back in May, I began to write my own Daily Offices, reminders for certain times of the day.   Here’s what I put together:

I.  Matins – Make Love Every Morning

I become aware of a new day, of the sun rising in the east once more. I feel the security of its constant faithfulness and a deep gratitude and contentment washes over me. I appreciate the sun. I hear birdsong or a cat mew, and I become aware that other creatures greet the new day with me, each one appreciating this regular phenomenon in her own way. I feel the lightness of the sky reflected in the lightness of my body. Food digested, shadow of darkness lifted, I feel buoyant and relaxed and open. The energy of a new day and new opportunities fills me with each breath. I notice the particulars of this morning, the weather, my body, my surroundings, where I am, who is with me. I am grateful for these particulars as they are. I am aware that each of my loved ones greets the morning in some way, and I think of them with appreciation for the connection we have on this planet. I am aware of myself. I am appreciative of my body, of my inner being, and I hold myself in a place of unconditional love. I belong on the earth today. I have an important part to play here along with everything else. I want to be aware of that all day long. I become aware of any anger or fear that might arise in me as I spend time with myself. I notice any of these “stuck spots” with compassion. I review my 3 options: run away, change my circumstances, change myself.

 II.  None – The Ninth Hour – After School Snack

I pause after a few hours’ work to refresh myself. I am grateful for the food I eat and for the earth that nourishes me. I appreciate the way my body repairs itself while resting. I note the work that I have done so far today, the satisfaction of taking responsibility for my life. I become aware of any places I may have become “stuck” today. I re-direct my energy so that flow resumes. I notice changes in the sun’s light, in the weather, in the activity and mood of the afternoon. I feel grateful for these particulars as they are. I spend time with myself and nurture my inner child coming back home.

 III.  Compline – Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

As I slow down at the end of the day, I pay attention to any anxieties that have gathered around me during the day. As darkness falls, I let go of these anxieties, breathing out slowly and gratefully. I look deeply within for the security and safety I seek, remembering that the world proceeds according to natural laws, life and death have their place, my days will be as they will be, and fear need not preoccupy my thoughts. I ask for peace, for every living thing to be free from suffering.

I was having panic attacks back in Spring because of the enormous transitions I was going through, and wanted to practice being mindful that the world is a continuously unfolding and wonderful place, not a dangerous place of uncertainty and chaos.  Thich Nhat Hahn talks about tending the gardens we grow in our lives by nurturing seeds that we want to see in full bloom.  I want peace to bloom in my garden.  I want love to bloom without manipulation.  I want a mindful connection to the Divine to bloom.  I want responsibility and intentional participation to bloom.  I want to develop practices that will encourage these to grow.