At Our Own Pace

The Labyrinth journey is an ancient spiritual practice which has touched many people in recent years. You find labyrinths in churches, like the famous one in the Chartres Cathedral, but also in backyards and public parks. One moves through the simple, winding path as a form of moving meditation or prayer. The first time I ever walked a labyrinth our leader was a religious educator- responsible for the children’s program at a local church. She mentioned that when children entered the labyrinth they always ran. I had only ever seen people walking a labyrinth slowly and quietly and I assumed this was the proper way to do it. But as someone who tended the spiritual lives of children, she wisely understood that it’s not always effective for kids to emulate adults in their spiritual practices, but to follow the path that is natural to them. That was almost 20 years ago, and the idea has grown in me; that we all walk the labyrinth at our own pace.

Many spiritual traditions extol the benefits of being still and quiet. At this time in my life, I find 20 minutes on a meditation cushion to be a refreshing break from my busy work life. But it certainly wasn’t always so. When I was younger I dreaded sitting in quiet meditation. Then I stumbled across a vigorous yoga style called Ashtanga, where the teacher mentioned the goal of this practice was preparation for meditation. It worked for me- I found there was nothing like 90 minutes of vigorous, mindful activity to prepare myself to sit quietly.

If you are someone who can’t get comfortable with spiritual practices that are quiet and still, don’t despair- it may be that you are just suited to a different kind of practice. As we enter the New Year, I encourage you to explore something new. I feel confident there is a practice out there that suits your unique rhythms. If you don’t like to sit, walk. If you can’t walk, run. What matters is your intention. Whenever you begin your practice, dedicate that time to listening for the spirit, to opening your heart to the divine. Let your practice be child-like; run or dance or play as the spirit moves.

Rest and Digest

If you’ve ever taken a yoga class, you have probably experienced “savasana”- which just means laying on your back for a few minutes. My old yoga teacher used to say that it was “the most important and the most challenging yoga pose for Americans.” And indeed, when I first started practicing yoga, I felt restless, and had trouble relaxing when we practiced that pose. It also felt like a waste of time. Gradually it dawned on me, that taking a few moments to just be still, to relax my muscles, was something that benefited from practice. We spent so much time in yoga strengthening muscles, engaging muscles, why not practice relaxing them? Why not practice that often challenging transition from work to rest? And indeed the longer I practiced, the more possible it became, not only during savasana, but even falling asleep at night.

Another yoga teacher called this time to “rest and digest” – both literally and metaphorically. On a biological level, the body can’t really digest food when we are rushing around, when we are stressed. When we slow down, the parasympathetic nervous system can do its work, eating and digesting, reproducing, relaxing, repairing and restoring balance. Our bodies need time in this state to stay healthy. Our hearts and spirits need the same -- time to rest and integrate all that has happened to us. I was surprised to find that our tear ducts are part of this system too, but it makes perfect sense. It wouldn’t be helpful to tear up while battling a saber tooth tiger. But scientific research has shown that our tears help release stress hormones and have other restorative properties. How often have we been rushing around, and when we finally slow down our emotions rise to the service, and we may find tears in our eyes. We literally cannot have that much needed cry when we are geared up for “fight or flight”

This has been an overwhelming time for just about everyone. Folks of all walks of life describe their stress, fatigue, exhaustion. We are being asked to deal with situations we’ve never experienced, and we are missing some of the people and places that we’ve often counted on for support and reassurance. During one such difficult week, I finished my work and went to sit with my husband in front of the television. The news was so stressful, not only couldn’t I watch it, I couldn’t even be in the same room with it. I thought I would take my book into a quiet room and read, but I found myself gazing, unfocused, at an empty white wall. My body, mind and spirit had just taken in more than my capacity to hold. I spent maybe an hour just processing and releasing all that I had experienced. Although I looked like I was doing nothing, my tear ducts, my spirit, my heart were all hard at work. It was a prayerful time, but without words- just letting go of all I was holding, inviting spirit to be present with me.

Over the coming weeks, I invite you to take some time every day to rest and digest. There is so much for us to integrate right now. You can do this any way that feels right to you. You might lay flat on your back allowing your arms and legs to rest on the ground, as in the traditional Savasana pose. Or just take a few moments to turn off all your screens and sit quietly in a comfy chair, perhaps gazing out the window, or at something not too interesting in your room. Let your conscious mind rest, with only the intention to let go, as you would relax a fist that has been clenched. Let the flurry of thoughts and feelings settle, like particles in a pond after a storm. Give your body, mind and spirit time to integrate, restore and rebalance, even though it feels like “doing nothing.” It might be our most challenging and most important practice.

Surprises

 I wrote this back in December of 2019, and since then the world has surprised us with many challenges. I wanted to share it with you now as an invitation to be open for hopeful surprises too.

“I can see where this is going” I said to a wise friend. The story that was unfolding in my life followed a well-established pattern, and the ending seemed inevitable. Like in a television show where the most famous guest star always turns out to be the villain, or the romantic comedy where the stars always end up together, some things in life just seem inevitable.

Usually, this is a good thing. The sun rises and sets like clockwork. Our part of the world is cold in the winter and warm in the summer. If you put a little bit in savings each week it eventually adds up in a predictable and reassuring way.

But in this case I could see things were headed in the wrong direction, and I didn’t know how to help turn them around. I was resigning myself to a long slow slog through dreary territory, but my friend challenged me “How do you know that’s where it’s going? How can you be sure you are right?” I’ve been right about this in the past, and this had all the signs, I told her. I didn’t want to be right, but I couldn’t imagine any other outcome. “Are you making room for the God of surprises?” she asked.

This reminder opened the door and let in fresh air, because surprises do happen. Remember the joy of a surprising snow day when you were a child? Or maybe you’ve had an unexpected tax refund or a loved one whose spontaneous remission bewildered doctors. Who could have predicted even 20 years ago we’d all be carrying the whole internet in our pockets?

Many religious traditions have some sort of “trickster” character who helps us out of our ruts and habits. Of course the tricksters rarely do just what we expect- that wouldn’t be in their nature. We may wish for one thing and get something else altogether. Our expectations are often disappointed, and we rarely think “there’s that trickster again, always shaking things up.” But when we are stuck we need that trickster to open surprising new directions.

Mostly we like it when the divine is consistent and reliable. We need to be able to count on the pillars and building blocks of our life. But sometimes when we are discouraged, when we can’t see a way forward, it is good to remember that life is not really like the movies; it defies the clichéd and expected patterns and leads us places we’d never imagine.

So the next time you feel stuck and can’t imagine a hopeful path forward, remember the spirit of surprise. If you have a prayer practice, you can even bring this into prayer: “Spirit of Life, I see the direction we are going, and I am afraid we are stuck. Please surprise me. Please open a new door I have not yet seen.” And then we open ourselves to receive whatever the surprises the future may bring.

 

When Your Happy Place is Not

 

We decided, like a record number of families this summer, to escape the drama of the past year, to break out of sheltering at home, and to try to have a bit of adventure, a bit of fun. We chose a spot on Lake Ontario because it was not far from our home, and because it was remote and wouldn’t be crowded. We were happy to have something to look forward to in these difficult and confusing times.
We’d never been to visit this part of the world before and were struck by the beauty of the lake. We sat and stared at it for hours. 

 

But the shoreline near our cabin didn’t look anything like the photos on the rental website; all along its slim length were trees laying on their side at regular intervals. Apparently, this area had lived through 2 major flood seasons, and the forces of wind, water and erosion were too much for these trees. As we walked along the beach we had to duck under or climb over the downed trees- they were unavoidable. As we walked, I noticed myself trying not to be disappointed that our vacation which was supposed to give us a break from worry and sadness instead surrounded us with signs of trauma to the land. I counseled myself that of course there is no place on earth that has not known trauma, has not known loss. This year has been marked by disappointed expectations, rapidly changing plans, uncertainty, improbably weather and resurgence of the pandemic. I began to feel a sense of compassion, a sense of connectedness to the people and the ecosystem of this lakeside community. I let my own disappointment increase my sense of connection - surely the people who lived here were broken hearted about the damage to their beautiful home. Undoubtedly, they faced financial hardships because of the floods and the pandemic as well. Compassion opened my heart.

As we walked, I began to see the beauty of these trees, the beauty of the branches washed by waves as they lay in the water, taking on the lovely texture and shape of driftwood even while still part of the tree, of the exposed root ball partly rooted in the sand. And rising into the air, above the reach of waves, the life affirming beauty of branches with fresh green leaves. Even though my vacation was not the getaway from trouble we had imagined, there was life here, there was beauty here, even a sense of adventure as we clambered over the trunks.

If you are not having the summer you expected, know that you are not alone. Folks all over the country, all over the world, are having similar experiences as memories of fun summers past come up against the often-challenging realities of this moment. I think especially of friends stuck at home due to illness or financial hardship, of folks watching the summer through the window of a medical facility. If that is happening for you, know that it is okay to be disappointed, okay to be frustrated or sad. Know that you are not alone. I encourage you to let your heart remember all those who are struggling in this very moment. Perhaps you can notice your connectedness to the people and living beings where you are right now through the sometimes-challenging experiences you are sharing. Perhaps you might notice life’s persistence and abundance in the face of such challenges. Maybe you will catch a glimpse of the beauty found not only in the verdant greenery of new life, but in turmoil and loss as well- the beautiful texture of driftwood, of seashells tossed on the shore, the voice of a loved one. May compassion open your heart to the vibrancy, power, beauty and life of this present moment wherever you find yourself.

What is Available?

 

Years ago I was visiting a yoga retreat center with a beautiful common room, and a large fireplace with a small card placed on top of the andirons which said “The Fireplace is not Available for Use.” I chuckled to myself about the clever use of that word “available”- It could have said “fireplace is out of order” or “fireplace is closed.” There could have been some extensive explanation about why the fireplace was forbidden, instead they simply, politely and elegantly let us know the limits of our use of the common room.

Lately, when I am thinking back on some moment in my life, and wondering why I made the choices I did, suspecting that now I would make a different choice, I find myself musing “that choice was not available to me at that time” I don’t need to tumble down a rabbit hole of why it happened, or what I “should have done.” I believe we are, for the most part, doing the best we can, making the best choices we can make in the moment.

Since the start of the pandemic, I have heard many people worrying that they are not as productive as they were this time last year. They see other folks posting on social media who are learning a new language, touring international museums online, hiking the state parks, and wonder “what’s wrong with me, that this is all I can accomplish? Like the fireplace in the common room, there are many things right now that are not available to us. Instead of looking at the fireplace and asking, “why can’t I use it?” or determining “I should be able to use it” it can be liberating to simply observe that “it is not available for use” and respond accordingly. Let’s even imagine that you were really excited about using that beautiful fireplace, and acknowledging the reality that it is not available for use might be sad. It might be disappointing. It’s okay to grieve all those small and large losses, that is how body, heart and spirit let go of those things that cannot be.

I am a list maker, and most days I have a list of what I would like to accomplish, but these days I look at my list and ask myself “what is available?” If I feel too tired for a hike, too introverted to call a friend, too discouraged to start a big project, it won’t help a bit to beat myself up. Our hearts are already bruised and tender these days. I simply ask “what is available for me to do today?” It not only helps me let go of all those things that just don’t seem possible right now, and helps me forgive myself for paths not taken, but it also encourages me to listen to the spirit. What is available? Something always is- even if that’s a nap.

In this time many things are not available for us to do, for reasons outside our control, or within our body, mind or spirit. By asking “what is available” we find a path forward that is aligned with our own capacities, or own soul. We honor the reality of who and where we are right now, and where spirit may be leading us. And so, I invite you to ask, whenever the world is too much, or the losses too great, “what is available to me right now, in this moment?”

A Well Worn Path

There’s a little strip at the back of my garden where nothing will grow. I’ve planted all different kinds of things, each year crossing my fingers, but that little strip stays bare. After years of trial and error, I was starting out the window and noticed a cat walking along that narrow strip. Soon after, I realized my dog was also walking that path as part of his morning rounds, and later found evidence of a groundhog. The problem wasn’t the soil or the sun, but simply that seedlings don’t do well in the middle of a critter highway.

Over the years I’ve seen my little dog walk the perimeter of the garden even in a foot of snow. That’s his path. It’s comfortable to him. It takes quite an obstacle to nudge him off his path. (I finally gave up and put down paving stones.) Watch the animals in your neighborhood and you will notice they have paths they love to follow day after day. Humans are no different. We love our well-trod paths.

In the same way that my dog likes his morning perimeter walk, and much as I take the same route to work most days, the heart, mind and spirit also develop some well-worn paths. Many of these paths develop early in life because they help us navigate the complexities of our own unique family and the challenges we have faced. These patterns are so natural and invisible to us that we don’t even notice them until someone plants some Loosestrife in our path. There are lots of words for these patterns; some folks call it “conditioning,” in the Hindu and Buddhist traditionsit is often called “Samskara” or we can just call it a rut.

Part of the spiritual path is becoming conscious of the choices we make habitually, noticing the patterns, and noticing when we are making choices that reinforce those habits. The “aha” of noticing our patterns is not necessarily followed by the ability to choose a new path. Those old patterns are powerful, and we flow naturally into them like a creek in its bed. Whenever we notice one of those old, powerful patterns, it’s best to treat them with compassion. For example, if your family of origin discouraged the outward expression of emotion, and you grew up stoic to fit in and please your family, give yourself credit for finding a path that worked. Now that you are older and wiser, you have the capacity to ask “does that path still serve me? Or would I like to choose a different path?”

If you decided a new path would suit you better, again begin with compassion. Those old paths have power. Think about the last time you were stuck in the mud. When we first realize we are stuck, we usually back up, and then try again. We may drive back and forth trying to gain ground and instead create a deeper and more slippery rut for ourselves. It is finally when we turn the wheel to angle up over the ridge of our rut that we are able to break free.

As part of your spiritual practice, I invite you to look for well-worn paths you tend to follow. Be curious about where they came from, and consider whether each pattern still serves you. If you decide to make a change, I encourage you to be curious, playful, and compassionate as you look for a new way. It may require coming at things from a new angle to reach fresh ground. And if you get stuck, remember to ask for help. Sometimes a new angle and a helping hand is all we need to get out of our rut.

Ordinary Miracles

We are surrounded by miracles, but we don’t often notice because they seem so ordinary. Consider, there was nothing living on this earth, and now it is teaming with life. Scientists and theologians have many ideas about why and how, but despite centuries of study, there is much we just don’t know. All we know is that we are alive. We see around us an amazing array of life’s creativity. There are millions of species of plants and animals across the face of the earth, and that doesn’t even include the billions of bacteria and virus species. If you’ve ever been to an aquarium or watched a documentary about ocean life you know that stranger things live on this earth than any science fiction writer ever dreamed of.

Even the common plants and animals we see in our neighborhood are a miracle. Birds, for example, can fly. That’s a fact so basic that we’ve stopped marveling at it, but that doesn’t make it any less extraordinary. Children know this. If you’ve ever taken a walk with a toddler, you won’t get very far because they have to stop and be amazed every few minutes. They know that birds are amazing, and dogs are amazing, and sticky things are amazing and dandelions are definitely amazing. But somehow we forget. We see birds fly a few thousand times and it becomes ordinary to us.

Jewish ethicist and mystic Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote about the importance of awe and wonder in our spiritual life. He wrote: “Awe enables us to perceive in the world intimations of the Divine, to sense in small things the beginning of infinite significance, to sense the ultimate in the common and the simple, to feel in the rush of the passing the stillness of the eternal.”

Violets in my Back Yard

This season, I encourage you to consider a practice of cultivating awe and wonder. Consider the world as a toddler does -- each tree, each bird, each bit of ice cream a miracle. As adults we are out of practice, so this may take time. Don’t worry if you can’t see it right away. Searching for something awe-inspiring requires patience, curiosity and a willingness to let things reveal themselves to our gaze. Perhaps you are traveling and will see something wonderful as you visit a new city or rest beside the lake. But life is no less miraculous just because you see it every day. The ordinary view out your front door is a miracle; let it fill you with awe and wonder.