Emerging

Every spring I watch the first flowers out my window. My early irises and the crocuses who bravely came up first are done with blooming already. The daffodils take longer, because they have longer to grow, and don’t do a well with the unexpected spring snows. So goes the progression of spring flowers, through the tulips and bleeding hearts and other flowers who love the extra sun before the trees leaf out, and count on the lack of competition from the summer flowers who don’t have their built in antifreeze. My Morning Glories won’t even sprout until late June, and it isn’t until the full sun of July that it is their turn to grow inches a day, and cover my trellises with heart shaped green leaves and purple flowers.

Every spring as the days grow longer and the spring flowers push up through the soil, I realize “I haven’t seen my friends in forever- do I still have friends?” And as the days warm it becomes a worry, “why don’t I get out more? What have I been doing all winter?” And every spring I remember, eventually, that in this part of the world it’s normal for humans to do a bit of hibernating in the winter, and that spring lures us back out into the sunshine in our own good time, and back to one another.

This year, the spring drama is overlayed with the ongoing covid pandemic. We have been more cloistered than usual this winter, especially those of us who work or study from home or are retired. In the same way that I feel out of shape the first creaky time I get back on my bike each spring, I feel like I am currently out of shape for being with other humans. I’ve heard many people talking about an increased social anxiety- our social muscles have atrophied a bit, and we are worried we won’t remember how to do it, when we finally get together. “I’ve gone feral” one friend told me- and I realized I felt the same way. I’ve put most of my energy into my inner life, feelings, hopes, worries, and very little attention to my outer life, although I do try to straighten my backdrop and check my hair before I join a Zoom gathering.

As difficult as this time has been, there are things we may miss, or worry about losing from our long year of covid. I know that although I miss my friends and family terribly, I have settled into a comfortable routine with my husband and our dog. In fact, a silver lining of working at home is that my older dog has some medical problems, and because I am working from home, I am always close by to make sure he is cared for. I even have house plants that need water every day- no big deal when working from home, the plants have been a great joy and distraction during this time, and it’s easy to notice when they need water and make sure they have it. A couple retired friends who live alone tell me they have settled into the quiet of their covid household and are surprised to find they will miss it.

Though I sigh with relief and joy every year to see the first crocus blooms, I worry with them through the inevitable snow falls of early spring- a snow at the wrong time can ruin the blooms, and no bee will come out to pollinate flowers in a snowstorm. So even though we humans have been waiting to return to “normal” for over 2 years, it’s healthy to have worries and reservations about the coming transition. It might help to remember that really there is no rush. The spring flowers know this. If you watch the tulips, you will see that though they seem to grow inches in a single sunny day, when the late snow and frost comes they will stop their growth just as quickly, and can hover at that same height until the warm sunny days return. The return to normal won’t happen overnight, it will grow in fits and starts like the spring foliage. And like a spring garden, each year is like no other. This very strange spring be easy with yourself. It’s okay to open slowly to the returning sun. Trust your own inner wisdom, bloom at your own pace.

Prioritizing Presence

For several years I’ve been part of a reflection group with other spiritual directors. At our first gathering we talked about what we wanted out of our time together and someone suggested we “prioritize quality of presence” when we were together. Everyone agreed- our priority was not getting a lot done, or even learning new things, but being fully present with one another so that we would feel supported and heard. Each month as we begin our gathering the quality feels a bit different: some months we are tired and energy is low, some months we are all busy and overwhelmed. Then we remember what we want our time together to feel like- loving, contemplative, caring. No matter how we feel as the gathering begins, by the end of our time we have found that quality together. I would even say that the quality of presence we hold for one another feels sacred. That is why we come back, month after month, year after year.

Imagine you have built a guest room in your house. It has a comfy bed, a sunny window with a lovely view. You make up the bed and even put a chocolate on the pillow, but chances are if you don’t invite our family and friends, it will most likely remain empty. If we want companionship, we have to invite that into our lives. Moreover, we can all probably remember an unpleasant visit to a place that was orderly and clean. Yes, a lovely guest room will definitely encourage guests to return, and increase their comfort while they visit, but that warm feeling of “home” comes not from a good floor-plan, but from those subtle qualities we feel while we are in it- safety, love, connection. If we don’t fill our homes with love and connection and caring, there is no premium bedding that can create those feelings for us.

When I was a new minister, I worked hard on creating well thought out well written sermons, and did lots of research, but sometimes my best planned services would fall flat. I would say now that they were hollow, like a beautiful house that no one lives in. The sermons felt flat because I didn’t put myself into them, my heart, my spirit. A teacher once told me “if you want the spirit in your life, you have to invite the spirit into your life.” If I want to feel compassion and support, the best thing I can do is invite the qualities of compassion and support into this moment.

Now when I am at a gathering of any kind that doesn’t feel right, I ask myself -- what is my quality of presence? Am I distracted and scattered, or am I cultivating a quality of presence that feels good? Instead of bustling about the proverbial kitchen stressed about making a perfect feast, anxious that each dish be perfect, and assuming that once the feast is on the table I will feel peaceful and content because my work is done, I imagine what it feels to be truly welcomed as a guest, the kind of hospitality that makes you feel safe and welcome and cared for, and cultivate that quality with the same priority as the main course. Because in fact that quality of hospitality is the main course.

“If you want the spirit in your life, you have to invite the spirit.” We are used to thinking that happiness or peace or enlightenment will come when we have made conditions right, when our life is orderly and successful. As if the spirit wouldn’t be with us if we were sad, or discouraged, or confused. If feeling supported and inspired is what I need, I let go of everything my scattered attention has caught, and just be present -- be the thing I am hungry for.

If there is some quality you are craving in your life, I encourage you to invite it into your life right now, without waiting to achieve your goals, or creating the perfect space. Prioritize that quality of presence, invite that quality you most need into your life. Not every guest comes when we invite them, but a gracious invitation is always a good place to begin.