Sunday, August 31, 2014

The Spiritual Advantages of...

Knowing Nothing

The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.” Socrates

I scanned the scripture readings for today—Moses at the burning bush trying to talk his way out of the mission God had planned for him. St. Paul repeating the beatitudes for the churches, feed the hungry, and such. Jeremiah calling down the wrath of the almighty on his enemies. None of it grabbed me. As I sat waiting for inspiration, the sun came up and bathed the sky in golden light. Rain has drenched the parched earth and that light made even the yellowing leaves beautiful.

I thought about Moses seeing that bush burning in the wilderness of Mt. Horeb. He said, “I must turn aside and see this wonder.” Boy! I'll bet he regretted that impulsive notion. When we see a beautiful sight, though, we can't help being drawn to it. Our eyes seem made to take in beauty wherever we find it. And one could imagine that for Moses, the wilderness was a pretty lonely place—nothing but old Jethro's sheep for company. Distractions would have been welcome, especially wondrous ones.

I don't know much about Moses, nor do I know how “I Am Who I Am” translates in ancient Hebrew, but I do know about being drawn to beauty. These morning skies, these dancing leaves, these cool breezes—they are beautiful and refreshing. That is what beauty does for us. It resets our calibrations. It's like breathing pure oxygen. Suddenly everything looks and feels different, more wondrous.

I hope that today, your eyes take in some beauty. It's worth searching for—you probably won't have to go into the wilderness to find it. And when you do find it, know that it comes straight from “I Am Who I am.”

                                                In the Spirit,

                                                    Jane

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Dealing with...

Disappointment

We must all suffer one of two pains: the pain of discipline, or the pain of regret or disappointment.” Jim Rohn

When I had my annual physical this year, I had gained ten pounds in one year. For me, that was unheard of, staggering and sobering. I had lost discipline when it came to diet. I was eating chocolate and other sweets. I had twisted my ankle back in the winter, which made exercise more difficult, and on and on. It takes discipline to stay fit at any age, but especially after fifty.

There was also some karmic debt being paid. I had always been less than kind when it came to people who were overweight. I assumed that because it was natural for me to be thin, their situation was a result of gluttony. I have now learned how difficult it is to lose weight once you've gained it, and that self-loathing compounds the problem. Even though I don't fit the category of obese, I can't bear to look at myself in the mirror with even ten extra pounds. You'd better believe, I'm back to pounding the pavement and counting calories.

Regret is an emotion that eats away our joy and enthusiasm. The only tools we have to combat it are determination and discipline. We can wallow in the trough of remorse, or we can get back on the horse and ride. Let disappointment be your teacher, and not the determining factor of your life.

                                                   In the Spirit,


                                                         Jane

Friday, August 29, 2014

Pink in the morning, sailors take warning...

Chance Existence

If, one second after the Big Bang, the ratio of the density of the universe to its expansion rate had differed from its assumed value by only one part in [ten to the fifteenth power], the universe would have either quickly collapsed upon itself or ballooned so rapidly that stars and galaxies could not have condensed from the primal matter.” Chet Raymo (Astronomer & Science Writer)

The sunrise is pink this morning. Hopefully the skies will produce that promise of rain. In central Alabama, we are under moderate drought conditions—weeks of 90+ degree heat has baked the ground and everything growing from it. There are places in this state where one can find prickly pear and agave growing in what are now hardwood forests. Obviously, it once was desert—and from the looks of things, may be again.

What an interesting world we have inherited. If you believe some scientists, it happened by mere happenstance-one chance in a trillion-trillion or some such incomprehensible number. And we humans think that because we're considered “intelligent life” we have a handle on things. We call the shots. We have dominion over it. I can almost hear Mother Nature laughing. The created order can change in a matter of weeks—just ask anyone whose family lived through famine in the Congo, or the dust bowl. One look at California's reservoirs right now will wipe all notions of dominion right out of your gray matter.

We're here for the ride. We give thanks when the ride is smooth, and hold on for dear life when turbulence takes us where we didn't plan to go. We can, and should, do our part as stewards, but we are not the cosmic forces in control. We can appreciate a pink sunrise, and the sound of birdsong, and agave growing in our forests. And we can wonder what comes next.

                                              In the Spirit,

                                                    Jane

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Paradox Prevails

Balancing the Incongruity

The final wisdom of life requires not the annulment of incongruity, but the achievement of serenity within and above it.”
Reinhold Niebuhr

Our world is filled with paradoxes. The very nation where everyone in the world wants to study turns out to be the one that can't seem to adequately educate its own children. The poor are expected to do more with less and the rich are expected to do less with more. In the land whose constitution is based on equality, there is very little in the way of equality. So it has always been in the realm of human affairs. Everything takes longer than it should. The wheels of justice and understanding grind slowly. Incongruity abounds.

I don't mean to sound a negative note—only to point out the obvious. We cannot wait until the world becomes fair for everyone to find serenity within ourselves or we will never have it. We must find ways, minute by minute, to both clearly see the inconsistencies in the world, and to be at peace with ourselves. We must find a balance between doing all that we can to help others and taking care of ourselves. Without that balance, we are of little use to anyone.

In this conjoined world the pendulum swings from one extreme to the other. Perhaps that is the way it is designed to swing. We must see the consequences at one extreme before we turn toward sensibility in the center. Perhaps we humans require extremes to raise our consciousness to the next level. Niebuhr said, “Nothing worth doing can be achieved in a lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope.” Let us hold tightly to hope and do what we can in this lifetime.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                      Jane

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

The Challenge of Keeping an Open Heart

Learning How to Live

As long as you live, keep learning how to live.”
Seneca

My friend, Harry, often says that he lived for fifty years with a closed heart. Now, in his later years, he's learning how to keep it open. Many of us think of ourselves as open-hearted, but it's not easy to know whether we are or not until something happens to challenge our perception. Most of us have an open heart with the members of our own family—with exceptions, of course. And most of us have trusted friends with whom we open our hearts. But when someone outside our circle intrudes or makes a blunder, our hearts quickly close. It seems to be human nature. Only a few living beings are able to keep love alive for everyone under heaven. The Dalai Lama comes to mind as someone in our time who lives with compassion for all. And, possibly, the current Pope.

For most of us, however, every day pushes us beyond the limits of our tolerance. We go from open-hearted to crazy-mad fairly quickly when stressed or frustrated. I'm speaking for myself, of course. You may be a placid lake of compassion and kindness. I have to work at it. But that's okay. That's what our lifetime is designed for—to move us, by fits and starts, toward an ever more open heart. My friend, Harry, had a heart attack that challenged his perception. Triple by-passes later, his heart is more open than it's ever been. I hope it doesn't take that to open mine.

                                                    In the Spirit,

                                                          Jane

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Human Soul

Being Alive

I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable...but through it all I still knew quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.”
Agatha Christie

Ahhh...life! With all its 10,000 joys and 10,000 sorrows, it's still the best thing we've got going for us, isn't it? Perhaps your life is smooth sailing from dusk 'til dawn, from daylight to dark, but for most folks the road ahead is hills and valleys. Sometimes the terrain is so steep, we can't imagine a way out. I think every single day, about the people in Syria, Gaza, Afghanistan, Iraq, Sierra Leone, Guinea, Liberia, Sudan, and so many other places around the world where existence is threatened on a daily basis by war or disease, or both. I remember the simple, yet profound teaching of the Dalai Lama that all beings just want to be happy and at peace. We all want the same things—to go about our daily lives without fear and with the ability to care for our families in safety.

And yet...even when life is impossibly difficult, we hold on. We love life. I heard on the news a couple of weeks ago that Africa is the continent most likely to have a population explosion in the next twenty years. The indomitable soul of humanity is alive and well in that place. Regardless of relentless war, of Ebola and AIDS and malaria, that spirit cannot be contained.

Even when life is routine, boring, or harsh, terrifying, even miserable, we hold on because we know that just being alive is a precious thing indeed. Maybe, around the next corner, beyond the next hill, the next valley, hope and the spirit of love are leading us to a place of peace and wholeness. May it be so.

                                             In the Spirit,

                                                   Jane

Monday, August 25, 2014

Blue Sky, Fine Day

Notice and Give Thanks

The clouds above us join and separate,
The breeze in the courtyard leaves and returns.
Life is like that, so why not relax?
Who can stop us from celebrating?”
Lu Yu

After a solid week of blistering heat, this morning is a balmy 78 degrees. A breeze is jingling the wind-chimes as the August sun peeks above the treeline. I notice and give thanks. Better enjoy this while I can.

Yesterday, as my son and I drove down the expressway, he pointed to ship-shaped clouds in a perfect row across Birmingham's skyline like sailboats in a regatta. Big, puffy, cumulonimbus clouds bunched against the western horizon, framed by cerulean blue sky. The raindrops they held evaporated before they reached the parched earth, but I felt grateful that my son noticed the beauty of the sky.

An important part of living a spiritual life is seeing oneself as native. I am part of this beautiful morning with leaves dancing to the music of wind and chimes. I am part of this beautiful earth. I am not simply an inhabitant on a particular planet in this solar system. I sprang from its very ground, just as did the trees and grass. I am one with it all and you are one with it all. Notice and give thanks.

                                                       In the Spirit,

                                                            Jane

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Spiritual Beings

Christ Consciousness

For ye are a corpuscle in the body of God; thus co-creator with Him, in what ye think, in what ye do.” Edgar Cayce

According to Edgar Cayce, we are spiritual beings having a physical experience, and as Children of God, our mission is to somehow bring Spirit to earth. The parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15: 11-24), Cayce says, is the story of the soul's journey. In the parable, the younger son of a wealthy father, decides he wants to go into the world and partake of its pleasures. So he asks his father for his inheritance, which the father readily gives, and then takes his leave. He sees, and is seduced by, as are we, the shiny apple and the glittering skyline. Quickly, he spends his life savings and, hungry and alone, hires himself out to a pig farmer to tend the pigs. He grows to see himself as being much like those pigs, and hungry enough to share their food. With that thought, he experiences a moment of clarity. He “arises” and heads for home. You know the rest—the father sees him coming and prepares a great banquet to welcome him back into the fold.

We are not unlike the prodigal son in that we need to have our experience with the world's allures. We enjoy ourselves until we see that the shine is off the apple and that glitter is only sprayed on. Thankfully, the soul wants something more; something real, with muscle and heart. What it craves cannot be found in the world's pleasures. Slowly, it dawns on us that we need not be hungry or empty—a feast awaits us. And so the soul arises and turns toward home—back to the Source from which it came.

                                                           In the Spirit,

                                                                Jane

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Smell the Roses

Awareness

Joy has to do with seeing how big, how completely unobstructed, and how precious things are. Resenting what happens to you and complaining about your life are like refusing to smell the wild roses when you go for a morning walk, or like being so blind that you don't see the huge black raven when it lands in the tree that you're sitting under...”
Pema Chodron

Once, years ago, I was at a gathering of women in the desert of southern Arizona. We were supposed to spend the afternoons in silence, but many of the 120 women who were there found it impossible to be quiet for a whole afternoon, and so I, seeking silence, walked out into the desert alone. I stumbled upon a dried creek bed, a flat, and walked up it for about a mile until I spied a stumpy, wind-driven tree to sit under and write. I settled myself and pulled my binder and pen from the backpack in preparation. Just about the time I had begun to scribble, there was a rustling above me, and a giant horned owl took flight not three feet above my head. It was, to say the least, a surreal experience—and how on God's green earth I could have missed that enormous bird in that stumpy tree, I do not know. To say that I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I did not have eyes to see is the grossest of understatements.

We can and do walk through our days oblivious to our surroundings unless we decide to be conscious. To continue Pema Chodron's quote above, “We can get so caught up in our own personal pain or worries that we don't notice that the wind has come up or that somebody has put flowers on the dining room table or when we walked out in the morning, the flags weren't up, and when we came back, they were flying. Resentment, bitterness, and holding a grudge prevent us from seeing and hearing and tasting and delighting.” It is in these everyday events, in our awareness of the pleasures provided for free, that joy has an opportunity to burst unexpected into our lives.

In my desert experience, I was so busy resenting the talking women in the compound, that I missed the huge raptor sitting just above my head. There's a lesson in there somewhere.

                                                       In the Spirit,

                                                           Jane

Friday, August 22, 2014

"Tend to your own knitting."

Live and Let Live

Each man's life represents a road toward himself.”
Hermann Hess

The twelve-step groups have a familiar saying: “Live and let live.” Seems simple enough on the surface—tend to your own business is the short hand. I don't know about you, but I have a very hard time doing that simple thing. I was genetically engineered from conception to concern myself with other people, to comment and diagnose, to analyze and recommend. It's not only in my blood, it's at least one strand of my DNA. I come from a long line of meddlers.

It's so much easier to look outward with these eyes and see the missteps and blunders of others. Far more difficult to look inside and see those same things in myself. My Native American teacher said it like this: “As without, so within. As within, so without.” In other words, what we see in others, both good and not so good, is a mirror image of ourselves. We will see quite clearly in others what we need to look at in ourselves. And further more, we will take what is within us and project it onto others as though it belonged to them. We are a complicated species. One not given to self-reflection.

A deeper meaning of that 12-step saying is “keep your focus on yourself.” Not in a self-absorbed, everything revolves around me way, but in a “live your own life” way. Don't get down on yourself. Shame is not a positive emotion. But neither is fretting or worrying. Some of us have been schooled in the notion that if you love someone, you worry about them. You spend your emotional energy trying to figure out how to make them happy, and in the process, you make yourself miserable. Love and worry are not bedfellows—they don't even sit down at table together. Love and freedom, now that's a passionate couple. And freedom extends to allowing that person we love to do what they need to do, to make the mistakes they need to make, and even to leave if they need to leave. It's hard. “Live and let live,” may be the most difficult thing in the world for human beings to do.

                                                                In the Spirit,

                                                                     Jane

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Are You a Believer?


Faith Is Not Belief

Faith is an oasis in the heart which will never be reached by the caravan of thinking.” Kahlil Gibran

I've been thinking about faith lately, what it is, and what it is not, because for me, it's confusing. We've been taught, at least in the majority of Christian churches in America, that faith is a matter of believing in a set of tenets prescribed by orthodoxy. But faith and belief are not synonymous. The fact that you “believe” does not a Christian make. Belief is a passive thing—it requires nothing of me except that I hold these tenets to be true—Jesus was born of a virgin impregnated by God, walked among us as God incarnate, was killed for blasphemy, and that his death on the cross was for the sins of humankind, and further that he resurrected, ascended, and is the only path to God. If we subscribe to these tenets, then we have faith—I don't think so.

Faith is deeper than that—not seated in our cerebral cortex, but within our heart of hearts. It is an active verb. Jesus said so himself. If you love me, feed my sheep, release the prisoner, care for the stranger, walk an extra mile, give your cloak as well as your coat. Faith is not a thinking thing—it's a giving thing. Faith doesn't come from giving in order to gain righteousness, but in simply giving because there is need.

Faith is experiential. Sometimes, from the experience of being the person in need who receives at the hands of strangers, sometimes from the experience of having one's own compassion override all the signals of sensibility coming from one's brain. Sometimes, faith is doing what is right instead of following the rules. It is, to my mind, a paradox that faith can exist without belief in any prescribed set of tenets, and and belief can exist without faith. Faith requires an openness to God's guidance that all the beliefs in the world cannot fill.

                                               In the Spirit,

                                                    Jane

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Living With Hope

Hope/Trust

The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance, but live right in it, under its roof.” Barbara Kingsolver

Hope can be a noun: a feeling of expectation or desire for a certain thing to happen. Or, it can be a verb: to want something to happen or be the case. But my favorite is the archaic form: a feeling of trust. For me, hope is like the blood coursing through my body—if it stopped, I'd die. Hope is like salt or water—essential.

Hope and trust are linked. Is there trust underpinning hope that connects it to the ground? Or do we hope for impossible things—like getting from America to Europe without flying in an airplane or taking a ship. “Beam me up, Scotty.” Not in this lifetime. I remember an incident decades ago when a very stoned, very slow-witted high school student told me he hoped to go to medical school. Not gonna happen! What we hope for must be something we can live within, under its roof, or it's only wishful thinking.

I know. You're saying, “But we can hope for miracles!” Yes we can, but do we trust that miracles will happen. I had a friend once who hoped to win the lottery. She bought two tickets every single week. She spent a small fortune trying to win the lottery when putting that money in a coffee can, or under her mattress would have made far more sense.

Hope and trust are kinfolks. They must come as a pair and be within the realm of possibility. But, when they are linked together, and clearly articulated, when they are held within your heart of hearts, the whole universe lines up to “Make it so, Number One.”

                                                 In the Spirit,
                                                       Jane




Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Speaking Plainly

Just the Facts, Ma'am

Exaggeration is truth that has lost its temper.”
Kahlil Gibran

When I was a very young woman, I married a plain-spoken man. He never embellished or used flowery words when he spoke. It was like living with Joe Friday from Dragnet. At the time, I was made restless by it. I thought, “Surely he knows that adjectives and adverbs exist!” But no. I was likely to receive a monosyllabic answer to most every question. And, more deadly than that, he did not dance.

Recently, I logged onto his Facebook page and saw pictures of him at his daughter's wedding. He was animated, he was dancing, and smiling and obviously having a grand old time. Something joyful has broken open inside him and released the demon who bound his feet, and held his tongue. Perhaps I was that demon.

Do you ever think of yourself that way? Do you look at life from the perspective of “the other?” When life is not going the way you think it should, instead of exaggerating the situation with “awfulizing,” with lamentation and complaint, simply ask yourself, “Who is having a problem with this?” And if the answer is “I am,” then assume that you also hold the solution. Our problem may not stem from the actions of another, but from our own exaggeration of those actions. We rile ourselves up, and then spew blame. At least, I do.

I would probably appreciate that plain-spoken man now—now that I've learned that truth can be told without embellishment and problems do not require blame. In these days of excess trash-talk and hyperbole, he would be a breath of fresh air. And I'm glad he's dancing, even if he's dancing with someone else.

                                              In the Spirit,

                                                    Jane

Monday, August 18, 2014

Musings...

Just Imagine

We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them.”
Kahlil Gibran

What if we knew for certain that before we were born, our soul chose how, where, and with whom it would incarnate in this lifetime? What if we sat down, soul-to-soul, with our spiritual teachers and guides, and decided that the primary lesson for this lifetime would be trust, or compassion, or faith, and we agreed to experience all the trials and tests that would help us to learn that lesson. Would we view life's difficulties differently? Would we view the lives of others differently?

And, further, what if we knew absolutely that there are among us, young souls, who are just beginning the journey through earth's soul-training program. And, that there are old souls as well, who have been through the earth-school many times and have learned the lessons they came to learn. Just imagine encountering that young soul in an old person, and that old soul in a young person. Would you know immediately which was which? Would your attitude toward each of them be changed? Would you seek the wisdom of the youth, and extend compassion to the elder?

And, as long as we're imagining, what if there were a blessing hidden within what seems to be a great misfortune. What if the unfortunate circumstance, in fact, were the very path to the primary lesson our soul came here to learn. Would we think differently about the things that befall us in life? Would we go toward them with anticipation, rather than curse and complain? There are so many possibilities, aren't there, when you allow yourself to imagine.

                                              In the Spirit,
                                                    Jane



Saturday, August 16, 2014

Adjusting the Lens

Memories

Memories are not the key to the past, but to the future.”
Corrie Ten Boom

A funny thing happens when we age. We remember differently. Or, perhaps, all the years of life that have been laid down, end to end, change the way we recall and interpret events. I am reading a book at the moment by Mary Alice Monroe, Sweetgrass, set in the low country around Charleston, South Carolina. It's about a family—and in the old South, “family” included all the aunts, uncles and cousins, the grandparents and anyone who worked in the household. In one scene, an older woman named Nona, who has worked for the family for forty years, is ironing a tablecloth—one of those ancient damask ones that lasts a hundred years. And as she irons, she recounts all the memories the tablecloth brings back. The entire history, her's and the family's, reflects in its soft folds, now reinterpreted from the distance of age and experience. It's a beautiful scene, and a classic example of how, like the tablecloth, we soften with time. We now understand what we could not grasp back then.

“The richness of life lies in the memories we have forgotten.” (Cesare Pavese) It is not necessary to hold on to every unfortunate event, every unkind word, every slight. It's good that with time, they change. It's akin to attaching a wide-angle lens to a camera and seeing the bigger picture. We can see our own role more clearly. We can include other events taking place in that person's life at the time. We can bring into view their history and how they were affected by it. Time is a great lens. Like the damask tablecloth, it holds history in a softer, gentler light.

                                               In the Spirit,

                                                    Jane 

Friday, August 15, 2014

Tapping the Source

Make It

You are one thing only. You are a Divine being. An all-powerful Creator. You are a Deity in jeans and a t-shirt, and within you dwells the infinite wisdom of the ages and the sacred creative force of All that is, will be and ever was.”
Anton St. Maarten (Divine Living: The Essential Guide to Your True Destiny)

There is something about creating with our hands that taps into a deeper well, and connects us, main-line, to the creative juices of the universe. We quiet, we focus, we get lost in the act of making something that expresses our truest self at a level rarely reached by words alone. What we tap into is the ultimate creative force. We find it in ourselves. What a surprise! We really are part of the cosmos!

Most of us are not going to be a Michelangelo or a Leonardo Da Vinci, but we can stir up a great basil pesto, we can paint a chair, we can stack some bricks together for a garden wall, we can sew a couple of seams to make a curtain. Most of us can break pottery and create a mosaic tabletop, or saute some veges in a wok, or knead dough into bread. We can dig a hole and stick seeds in dirt to grow a cabbage or a tomato. It is our nature, as cosmic beings, to create.

Creativity is what helped us to evolve—from the first time we stuck a hunk of meat on a stick and held it over fire, to the constructing of a supercollider, human beings have been tapping into that source and creating. You, too, are a cosmic critter. You, too, are a creative force in this universe. In the words of Joss Whedon, “Write it. Shoot it. Publish it. Crochet it, saute it, whatever. MAKE!” It will satisfy your soul.

                                              In the Spirit,
                                                  Jane



Thursday, August 14, 2014

The Grace of Getting Lost

Unexpected Bounty

I'm glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.”
Edna St. Vincent Millay

My friend, Suzan, and I took a little excursion to Leeds, AL yesterday. She had never visited the Bama Flea and Antique Mall or eaten ribs at Rusty's Bar-B-Q. We spent a couple of hours pawing through rusty old tools and empty birdcages, World War II ammo boxes, vintage Koolade dispensers—the old metal barrel ones we knew as children. She found a fetching shirt that was tagged “communist block” apparel (whatever that means). There was a tall, chrome, free-standing, hand-crank juicer that, in the old days, drug stores used to make lemonade. Had I been a richer woman, I would have bought it, but alas...

When we left the Flea, I thought to take the back way to Rusty's and so tooled along a known road until we came to a train parked across it and cars lined up for two blocks, waiting. We waited too, for at least 15 minutes until ambulance and firetruck arrival made it clear something unfortunate had happened and the train would not be moving any time soon. I allowed as to how I knew all the back roads, and who could possibly get lost in tiny little Leeds. Suzan tried to use common sense to tell me which way to go, but I was my usual headstrong self. Half an hour later, we were still taking turns that should have put us right, but instead, led only to dead ends. By now, we were not in the finest part of Leeds and, seemingly, nowhere near Rusty's. Finally, an exasperated Suzan pulled out her I-phone and its GPS found the way out.

In the process of all that twisting and turning, I discovered a little farmer's market which I'm quite excited about. Getting lost now and then is not half bad—who knows what you might discover in uncharted territory. Now, if I can only find my way back to that farm stand...

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                        Jane

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Remembering Mork

Farewell to the Funny Man

You're only given one little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it.”
Robin Williams

I'm not going to eulogize Robin Williams here. That's been done by greater minds than mine. He was a fantastically funny man with a great heart. The fact that news of his death superseded the news of wars and violence in the world speaks to his universal appeal. He's mourned around the planet, and joins the pantheon of the lost gifts—Whitney Houston, Elvis Presley, John Belushi, Janis Joplin, Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Jimmy Hendrix, Marilyn Monroe, and on and on—the list reaches all the way back to Vincent Van Gogh and beyond. So sad it feels as though laughter has left the world.

Now that he is gone, however, I celebrate his freedom from the twin demons that dogged his days—depression and drug addiction. The same demons have dragged so many other gifted people into an early grave. We should be happy that we had him, and them, for as long as we did, and that they blessed us with their singular gifts. I'm sure there was a crowd of happy witnesses waiting to greet him at the pearly gates yesterday, and that the angels are laughing their halos off right now. God speed, Robin.

                                                 In the Spirit,

                                                      Jane

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Finding Meaning

Meaningful Days-Meaningful Friends

Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives. The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend-or a meaningful day.” The Dalai Lama

How can we make today meaningful? We can practice kindness, tolerance, and open heartedness. We can do our work with diligence, take pride in our accomplishments, whether a clean floor or a signed contract. We can listen to our co-workers, or the person next to us on the bus. We can respond to others as though they matter to us. We can lend a hand where one is needed. We can say yes instead of no. We can refuse to criticize or gossip. We can spend ten minutes outside listening to the sounds of nature. We can live in the present moment fully and with undivided attention.

How can we make our friendships meaningful? We can slow down long enough to have a conversation. We can offer support when it is needed, whether that means collecting their mail while they're away, or walking the dog, or sitting in silence while they say what's on their heart. We can make time to have lunch or coffee. We can speak our own truth to them, let them in on our failures as well as our triumphs. We can love them even when they make us mad. We can forgive their mistakes and pray for them every day. And we can let them go when they need to go.

We find meaning in our lives by paying attention, careful attention. Being present with the whole of our body and mind in each moment is a rare and precious gift. Meeting each day with anticipation, and each friend with appreciation brings meaning into every ordinary moment.

                                       In the Spirit,

                                             Jane

Monday, August 11, 2014

Seeing the Mystery

Miracles

Let us celebrate the joy and sorrow...the wonder and mystery of all we see, so that we might live and learn as we were meant to. They say of stardust we are formed, that the oceans flow through our veins, and our thoughts are of quantum particles strung together by slender threads of charged ions. Therefore all things are connected, all things have spirit, you, me, the animals, rocks, the oceans, planets, stars and the whole universe, these quantum particles are forming webs of awareness focusing at the center where dwells the collective unconscious of all that has and ever will exist.”
Andrew James Pritchard (To Revolt Is A People's Right)

Yesterday, the New Testament reading was from Matthew 14; the story about Jesus walking on water. Bud, our pastor, did a very good job of extracting the words of Jesus to the disciples when they cringed in terror, thinking him a ghost. Jesus said, as he always did, “Do not be afraid. It is I.” Thich Nhat Hanh has a very famous quote, “The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green earth, dwelling deeply in the present moment and feeling truly alive.”

In the spirituality group, we spoke again about how we take the sacredness we feel in the group, into our everyday life. I think the quotes above speak to that in a much clearer way than I could. If we could spend even ten minutes a day seeing the miracles that are before our eyes, and within our bodies, that we simply overlook and take for granted, we would feel the presence of holiness all the time. When we can give up the notion that one day the sky will part, and Jesus will return in clouds of glory, we might begin seeing him in one another. When we truly get his message of our own priesthood, our saltiness, our light, we will in fact realize that the second coming has already happened, and is here within. He walks on the green earth with human feet—yours and mine.

                                               In the Spirit,

                                                     Jane

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Remember the Sabbath to keep it holy.

Worker Bees

The more we accomplish, the more we are expected to do. We take on more responsibility, only to feel resentful of what we have promised. The faster we go and the more we do, the sooner we forget what we love. We misplace the things that truly nourish our deepest heart.”
Wayne Muller (How Then Shall We Live)

Worker bees are essential to the functioning of the hive. In their first few days of life, they work inside the hive, tending the drones and the queen. They build the comb from specialized structures in their abdomen and rear the brood of future worker bees. After they have aged a bit, they become field bees that go out and gather pollen, water, nectar, and other food; they defend the hive and collect plant resins used in its construction. They cool the hive in summer by rapidly beating their wings and warm it in winter by clustering around offspring to keep them warm. In short, they earn their name every single day of their lives.

Some of us, myself included, are worker bees. We work. That's what we do. And as long as we love the work we do, it seems like a fine way to fill our days. But it leaves little room for play, and in fact, sometimes we forget how to play. Not only does it leave little space or capacity for play, but our relationships suffer. And not only does dedication to work leave no time for play and relationships, but our spiritual life gets short shrift too. When is it that we ponder and pray; when do we appreciate beauty and commune with the natural world? When is it we refresh our own spirit?

Meister Eckhart said it this way: “The spiritual life is not one of addition, but rather of subtraction.” We cannot fill our days and nights with work and more work and have emotional time and energy for a robust life of spirit. Today is Sabbath; let us rest and be glad in it.

                                                   In the Spirit,

                                                        Jane

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Seeds of Joy

Eyes to See It

The seed of suffering in you may be strong, but don't wait until you have no more suffering before allowing yourself to be happy.”
Thich Nhat Hanh (The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching: Turning Suffering into Peace, Joy and Liberation.)

This may seem a Pollyanna notion to you—on first reading it did to me too. I thought, “Easy for you to say, but what if shells were raining down on your head, or rockets were blowing everything to smithereens next door to you.” And then I remembered the children of Gaza during the brief cease-fire. They were out in the streets playing amid the rubble. Children could teach us so much if we let them.

Almost every life has some sorrow in it—an ailing parent, a child that's gone off the tracks, debt, instability in employment. We all have our “cross to bear,” so to speak. We also have the choice of whether to focus entirely on that, or to look more broadly. We hone in on the one thing that is not what we wish it to be, and let the good stuff, the parts of our life that are going well, drift away. Pretty soon our suffering looms so large no light can penetrate the gloom.

If little children in war torn areas can play on the beach between bomb blasts, surely we can find some joy in the midst of a difficult day. The trick is having eyes to see it—looking for everyday miracles wherever we can find them.
In the words of Thich Nhat Hanh, “Smile, breathe, and go slowly. As long as you are alive, everything is possible.”

                                            In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane

Friday, August 8, 2014

Your Energy Signature

Managing Our Energy

Every thought you produce, anything you say, any action you do, it bears your signature.” Thich Nhat Hanh

In the spirituality group, we talk a lot about energy. We talk about the way we control and use our energy. Not only do we send energy out in our actions, but in our words and in our very thoughts, even when those thoughts remain unspoken. Trying to wrap our heads around this notion of being energetic in nature is more difficult for Westerners. We think of ourselves as flesh and blood, bones and sinews, brain and organs—but not vibrations of energy. I don't know about you, but even when I studied science in high school and college, and learned about atomic structure, I did not apply it to my own body. I didn't think of myself as a living, moving mass of nuclei surrounded by protons, electrons and neutrons. But that is precisely what we, and everything else in the universe, are. We are atoms and molecules that are conscious and self-aware.

When we send out thoughts that are hateful, or damning toward others, those thoughts bear our energetic signature. When we act in a way that is kind, and refuse to engage in malicious conversation, we are using our energy constructively. That, too, bears our signature. Unfortunately, I'm not always able to constrain my ego. Sometimes I think and say things I shouldn't. When that happens, I can call that energy back to me; in essence, I can cancel it's intent. Because, you see, energy follows intention—we can say kind words, but hold mean thoughts, and the energy will follow the meanness, because that is our true intention.

Emotions such as jealousy, envy, hate and resentment carry with them harmful intentions, and can cause damage not only to the recipient, but to us as well. Vice versa, when we are acting from a place of neutrality or consideration, the energy we send out does no harm to anyone. In our polarized world, there is enough negative energy flying around to gravely damage all of us. Today, let's send out only kindness, and if we can't manage kindness, let's at least attempt neutrality.

                                        In the Spirit,

                                              Jane

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Cycles of Life

Cycles of Change

Moments like this inevitably arise in the course of our life. People or things we love change in ways we do not want or expect. Things we plant do not remain seedlings forever; they grow and change. In fear of losing them, we try to hold on, to keep things as they were. As our loved ones evolve and grow, we hold on more desperately to how they used to be, until we strangle both them and ourselves.” Wayne Muller (How Then Shall We Live)

One sure sign of life is change. Isn't that what we learned in general science class in the eighth grade? Every living thing is subject to cycles of change. Sitting here on my late summer porch, I see green leaves paling into yellow, a few already on the ground. Fall is coming. The mocking birds are quiet, no longer needing to chortle from daybreak into the night to find and keep a mate. That season has past.

Change is always happening in a slow methodical way. So slowly, in fact, that we don't notice for a long time—and then we do. And it seems sudden and alien. We wonder, “When did that happen?” Our parents age, our children grow up. Our lives change from the hectic days of carpools and soccer games to packing the bags for college. And then the house is suddenly empty and oh, so quiet. We notice our mate for the first time in years, changed, older, not the passionate young firebrand we married, but middle aged, different.

Change is inevitable and the more we resist it, the more harsh it seems. Instead of thinking of change as a sign of life, we cast it in a disparaging light called “old,” as though old is a bad thing. What if we were to embrace the changes we see, love them as evidence of vitality, of growth and vigor. What if we were to enjoy mellowing, ripening and thriving as we go from one stage to the next. Life follows a natural cycle just like the seasons. We can no more hang on to one stage of life than we can hang onto summer. But we can squeeze out all the juice and suck the marrow from its bones and enjoy every every single minute of it. And then look with excited anticipation for the next round in this good circle of life.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                        Jane

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Finding the Light

Spiritual Identity

...Our true nature could be compared to the sky, and the confusion of the ordinary mind to clouds. Some days the sky is completely obscured by clouds. When we are on the ground, looking up, it is very difficult to believe there is anything up there but clouds. Yet we have only to fly in a plane to discover up above a limitless expanse of clear blue sky...” Sogyal Rinpoche (The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying)

Most of us have read the book, Eat, Pray, Love, and know that the author, Elizabeth Gilbert, went to India to experience the living of life in a prayerful way. It made for interesting reading, and I have no doubt that India is the birthplace of spirituality. However, we don't have to go to India to find true spirituality. As Sogyal Rinpoche wrote, we are only confused by the layers of clouds that obscure our true nature.

Somehow, we've come to believe that if we lead a spiritual life, a religious life, we will have unending peace and prosperity. Nothing could be further from the truth. In every life there are clouds; there are times of difficulty and trial, times of temptation and doubt, and we are tested just as Job was tested. Life is not a placid event. But life is all we have. It's the school for learning spiritual identity. And, lucky us, the light we seek is not in far off Tibet. It is right here inside us. We carry it with us at all times, even when the clouds of life obscure it.

Spiritual identity is found in the way we live on the Earth, in the way we care for ourselves and others, in the breaking of bread and the preparation of food, in the million small things we do everyday. If we do not find it there, we will not find it at all—not in India, not in Tibet. Only within; and by extending the light within, we will find it without, wherever we are.

                                                In the Spirit,

                                                    Jane

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Protecting the natural world.

Insect Friends

If all of mankind were to disappear, the world would regenerate back to the rich state of equilibrium that existed ten thousand years ago. If insects were to vanish, the environment would collapse into chaos.” E. O. Wilson

Sitting on my porch this morning, the only sound rising above the distant ones of planes overhead, and trains passing through downtown, is the rising and falling of the ground crickets' call. Now and then, I hear crows chattering in the trees of the park three blocks away, and the occasional trill of katydids. Summer's end.

I worry about the natural world, especially in cities. Yes, we have introduced falcons to keep down the pigeon populations, and hawks have adapted to life in urban environments, but everything depends upon insect populations for support. I now see signs in my neighborhood for mosquito and flea control companies—they will spray your yard every month for a small fee. Between the insect control that goes into lawn fertilizer and this new assault, we have declared war on the insects of the world, and we've almost wiped out our good insect population at the same time. As much as you and I hate roaches, these broad spectrum poisons are a disaster for all insects, good and bad.

We tend to think that if we put out bird feeders our song birds are content and well fed, but the majority of land birds rely on insects for the bulk of their nourishment. And animals that we might not consider important, like shrews, moles, even raccoon have insect heavy diets. We won't even get into pollinators, but when our food supply dwindles because we don't have their help, we will begin to take notice.

Humankind are the appointed stewards of the natural world. That includes the animal populations and the insects, as well as the land. When we detach ourselves from them, and disregard their needs, we imperil ourselves as well. Today let's pay attention to the sounds of life around us. Let's be conscious of how our actions affect our fellow earth dwellers, and understand that their right to exist is equal to our own.

                                          In the spirit,

                                                Jane

Monday, August 4, 2014

Living from a grateful heat.

Reaching Out

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, confusion into clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, and a stranger into a friend.”
Melody Beattie

We've had a beautiful weekend here in Birmingham. Not too hot, a little overcast, hardly typical of August in the deep South. For that I am grateful. The spirituality group is now studying The Yoga of Jesus, by Paramahansa Yogananda, a new way of looking at scripture through the eyes and teachings of a Hindu Yogi. Yesterday we moved our meeting place and created a meditation circle on the floor with an altar in the middle, similar to the women's circles I participated in in the 90's. That brought a sense of reverence to what we were doing that hadn't been there before. It's surprising how creating a circle and lighting a candle can change the atmosphere in a the room.

The discussion yesterday centered around the question of what it means to live a spiritual life. Is it the same as being religious? For me, scripture provides a foundation, and how we express our faith in our every day existence is the spiritual aspect. Experiencing the sacredness in all aspects of living brings depth to the scriptures, and the scriptures provide the framework for living a spiritual life. The two are inseparable.

One central theme of spirituality is gratitude. It is seeing the world through grateful eyes—yes, even now, even in the these difficult times. When there is nothing else to be grateful for, being grateful for life itself can change one's internal atmosphere like the circle and candle changed our room. When we're feeling down, hopeless and helpless, making a list of all the things for which we are grateful turns the tide from negative to positive.

I am grateful for you today, and for this vehicle for reaching out, knowing you are there on the other end reaching back. Have a wonderful day.

                                             In the Spirit,
                                                 Jane



Sunday, August 3, 2014

Be the light you want to see.

Extending Kindness

Kindness is the light that dissolves all the walls between souls, families and nations.” Paramahansa Yogananda

We are living in a time of great turmoil in the world. Boundaries are shifting, structures falling, and the map is being redrawn. Some days one feels completely impotent in the face of all the mayhem and bloodshed. What can ordinary people do to bring peace even to their own minds? Not much, it seems.

When the world is in chaos, the only avenue open to us is to wait and pray, and to extend kindness to one another. All actions are vibrations of energy, and the energy of kindness has a positive effect on everyone who receives it. If enough of us are vessels of kindness, we can extend this positive energy far beyond our own personal sphere of influence. As each of us exudes kindness, extended to as many people as we can reach, that blessing travels from soul to soul, and out into the world.

When you are feeling helpless in the face of all the anger and bloodshed, seek beauty, extend kindness, be the light that you want to see. And don't forget to call upon God for strength and energy so that you will have sufficient resources to be that light for one another.

                                                      In the Spirit,

                                                           Jane

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Are you out of the box?

Odd Balls

Some of the most wonderful people are the ones who don't fit into boxes.”
Tori Amos

There are people who, from childhood, do not want to “fit in.” They make their mark by going against the grain, so to speak. One such is Palmer, who was once a member of our church and an ordained minister. He is a big man who wears sandals and red socks to church with his plaid Bermuda shorts. He would from time to time fill the pulpit when our regular minister was away. His sermons were always entertaining—one I remember was titled, “The Kingdom of Heaven is Like Compost.” He is a serious fan of Mark Twain, even considers Twain one of America's leading theologians, and often quotes him. I visited his home, now in Wisconsin, some years ago and discovered he has a little shrine to Twain in his man-cave.

Some humans of the “odd-puzzle-piece” variety are the very ones who go on to advocate for those who would want to fit in if they could. In Palmer's case, folks with cognitive disabilities. They know what it feels like to be an outsider, and while they don't want it for themselves, they will defend another's right to be one of the “chosen.” Those who have decided not to run with the pack don't mind being offensive, even obnoxious, if that's what it takes to break down barriers for defenseless people. There is real strength in being weird if you fully embrace it.

I also believe that people who are out of the box live life more fully because they live it as themselves. They are not a product of our consumer society, nor are they willing to step to the music of collective consciousness. Instead, they cut a path made just for them that takes a great deal of courage and effort. I say, “Hats off to the odd-balls!" May we have ever more of them.

                                             In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane