Signing Off

 

Saying Goodbye

“It’s always important to know when something has reached its end. Closing circles, shutting doors, finishing chapters, it doesn’t matter what we call it, what matters is to leave in the past those moments in life that are over.”

Paulo Coelho (The Zahir)

          I began writing this blog in February of 2011, and in these 12 years, I have written 4,168 posts. It’s time to move on. I have loved writing Spiritually Speaking, and I will continue to write every day. But I have other projects and other interests that need time and attention.

          I want you to know that I deeply appreciate every single one of you who has read my words over the years, whether you’ve loved them or hated them. Having notes and comments from you has fueled my longing to reach out and share my thoughts for the last twelve years. But now, I want to get on with whatever comes next, and I know you do too.

          I may gather the best of Spiritually Speaking into a book, probably in the form of a daily reader. If you want to be on a mailing list for that, or if you want to receive other essays that I write, please send me your email address and I will send them to you directly. Mine is jmp8465@gmail.com. Write to me any time and I will answer.

          For now, thank you. May your life be blessed with joy and challenges.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane

Life in the Slow Lane

 

Way Forward

“All shall be well when we are free from the will to dominate people or things or our own souls. Our superficial motives cannot finally destroy us if we are aware of and attend to the point of real love in the ground of being—even if that attention be sadly weak and often forgotten.”

Helen Luke (Old Age: Journey into Simplicity, p.89; Bell Tower, NY, 1987)

          Watching the voting process to elect a Speaker of the House last week left a nation wrung out, without the energy to even be affronted. As we sat in our living rooms and watched Keven McCarthy lift the speaker’s gavel, we couldn’t even scream at what has been given away, what has been surrendered to a fractious mob. We’ve seen worse—January 6^th was worse—but this came close. It was sad.

          One of the things that happens as we grow older is the invisibility factor. At least in America, we fade into the shadows. But the upside of this is being able to observe from the distance of invisibility—no one knows you’re there, and no one cares. As our powers in the world diminish, our powers of observation increase. Within each older person is a lifetime of experience with the world—its chaos, its nonsense, its folly, its beauty and holiness. We’ve seen great people come and go, we’ve witnessed fools with power and ego trample on anyone who gets in their way. And we’ve experienced the fallout from all of it. But seeing one elected representative try to shut the mouth of another by force—well, that was new.

          One thing that we know—one thing that everyone at this point should know—is that the will to dominate others is unsustainable. Even in autocratic dictatorships, the people can only be forced to surrender for so long, and then the dam breaks. When a six-year-old walks into a classroom with a 9mm pistol and shoots his teacher, and nothing changes in the way of gun control, we’ve hit bottom. When a group of five zealots can force the Speaker of the House to kowtow to their demands—and he does—then we have no government in service to the citizens of this country. So, where do we go from here? Good question.

          We must learn to pray and trust. We must summon the energy to vote with 100% of our eligible voters. And we must understand that all things have a beginning, a middle and an end. We are not exempt from the laws of nature.When our notions of greatness can no longer be sustained, when domination is no longer our goal, when we are unwilling to sell our souls to get what we want—all will be well. Until then…we watch and pray.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane

         

Imprints that Made You

 

Past and Present

“…What I want to say is

that the past is the past,

and the present is what your life is,

and you are capable

of choosing what that will be,

darling citizen.

Come to the pond,

or the river of your imagination,

or the harbor of your longing,

and put your lips to the world.

And live

your life.”

Mary Oliver (“Mornings at Blackwater")

          The more I come to understand myself, the more I realize how very much I’ve been blind to. How patterned we are by when and where we were born, by the family we were born into, and by the times. When I look at my own family of origin, I know that they had fewer choices than I, and less education, and yet they were able to cobble together a life and prosper. They had the puritan values of hard work and no frills. They accepted the hardships of life as just part of it, and did the best they could to carry on. They were brave and flawed and operated without the benefit of depth psychology. Because of their hard work, I was able to go to college and make a different life for myself—one which they accepted but didn’t understand or relate to.

          Mary Oliver is right, of course, the past is the past and your life is lived in the present. However, your past has made an indelible imprint on they way you live in the present. In the famous words of William Faulkner, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” And that is because we carry it into the present in our very DNA. The image I have is of the line of baby ducks following behind their mother—or whoever imprinted on their little brains first. We carry a genetic imprint, a web of neurons that have been trained in a particular way, and eons of accumulated experience that goes into every choice we make. The very best we can do is to be aware of our patterns and our family’s patterns, and be able to recognize them for what they are. When we are aware, then we can choose. But as long as we refuse to look at how we were programed to be by the people who gave us life, we will perpetuate those patterns—both good ones and the bad. That’s where the choice comes in—we can choose to look or not. And we can choose to act on what we see, or not. Your past informs your present, all the way back to the primeval waters. You are amazing in scope and breadth. I hope you know that.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane

Everthing We Need Is Here

 

The Ebb and the Flow

“Everything flows.”

Heraclitus

          When you think of “flow” what is the first thing that comes to mind? Air, water, a creek, a river, rain, the ocean tides, the ripples on a lake, the flight pattern of butterflies, a murmuration of birds, the flow of blood through our veins and arteries. Through our hearts. Flow brings up images of freedom, lack of boundaries and limitations. We love the idea of flowing. We love to spend hours in the flow of ideas, of conversation, the flow of people through a day, or a year. For most of us, as long as the flow of our lives is unimpeded, we’re pretty happy.

          But what happens when the flow is impeded? Rocks fall into the stream, impenetrable fog occludes the path forward, our flow is interrupted by a sudden change. What happens when an unavoidable event requires us to stop and wait, and perhaps, not act at all? What happens to us when the ideas stop flowing, or the flow of activity is interrupted by injury or illness? What happens when our flow ebbs and then stops altogether? We avoid it. We try, like water, to go around it, or over it. Sometimes we simply forge ahead, blind, uncertain of direction. That usually ends badly, but we humans are a determined lot; we are compelled by ego to force the flow whether it’s wise to do so or not.

          There is a Zen saying: “Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and grass grows by itself,” The ebb may be the most essential part of the flow—the part where we stop long enough to absorb and integrate, the time we need to connect the dots, to experience our understanding, our consciousness, expand a little bit. Ebb is not the enemy; it is a natural part of the flow. Even migratory birds eventually land.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane

Saltwater Baptism

 

Moving Rocks

“…That’s how it is sometimes—

God comes to your window,

All bright light and black wings,

And you’re just too tired to open it.”

Dorianne Laux (recorded in Heart of the Enneagram, p.64; Library Partners Press, 2018)

Dorianne Laux’s poem speaks of working too hard in the garden, moving rocks and then being too tired to record a dream—one that spoke the truth to her. By morning, the dream had turned to dust. Sounds like she missed her opportunity to hear what God had to say to her, and, truly, she did miss it that time. But God doesn’t give up on us so easily. Fortunately, if there is something Spirit wants us to know and we miss it the first time, She turns up the volume until we can’t help but hear. That’s how it is sometimes, too.

Some of us toil in the garden way more than we should. My hand is up. I’m one of those. I move rocks all the time. When I can’t move rocks, I move furniture, or I rearranged everything in the house, or I cook more food than ten people could eat. Some of us use work and busyness to keep from feeling our feelings. It’s the thinking person’s way of running, numbing out. It works for a while—just like drugs and alcohol work for a while. But then it doesn’t.

Lots of us simply hit a wall, we have a close brush with death, or something happens that cracks us open and the dam bursts. Then everything we’ve been stowing away, stuffing down, comes flooding out. We are engulfed by feelings, and all we can do is sit on the ground and cry. And believe it or not, that’s a very good thing.

In my experience, that has usually involved the loss of something precious—a pet, a lover, an unborn child. Something for which there is no emotional defense, and nothing can blunt. We humans, for whatever reason, expect ourselves to handle anything and everything. We think if we aren’t “strong,” we’re weak. If we break down, we’re a failure at life. It’s not true. Not true at all. There is plenty in this life to cry about, and tears are an appropriate response to loss, and to heart break. What is not appropriate is going right back to moving rocks.

Let me speak from experience—the fastest way through it is through it. Just let her rip, let the dam break, let the tears flow and flow and flow for as long as they need. If you can do that, you will eventually stop crying, dry you eyes, and get on with your life. But you can’t skip that step. Healing sometimes requires emersion in saltwater—a baptism of tears. God works like that, too.

                                        In the Spirit,

                                        Jane

The New Year's Retribution

 

January Tribunal

“I always try to lose weight. I don’t go for the brutal training programs, but I do secretly stop eating carbs, fats, or whatever. Science proves again and again that all diets work briefly, and pretty much all work the same, with initial and exhilarating weight loss, then plateau, then weight gain and shame. The weight we lose almost always finds its way back home, and it invariably brings friends.”

Anne Lamott (Almost Everything, p.153; Riverhead Books, NY, 2016)

          This is the time of year that, like migratory birds, we all head back to the gym in hopes of shedding that extra ten we’ve put on since Thanksgiving ushered in the season of holiday feasting. Aren’t we funny creatures? We always say, “What the heck! It’s the holidays! Time to be merry and enjoy all this happy deliciousness!” It’s even considered rude to not indulge, right! I mean, who does that anyway! I still have fudge and lemon bars in my refrigerator, glinting their mean hearts at me every time I open the door. I’ve disposed of everything else, but somehow my hands simply will not take those out and deposit them in the trash. It must be because I was abused as a child!

          Please! Let’s make peace with ourselves and the overindulgence of the holidays. Decide for yourself what is more important for you—goosing your inertia and hauling your butt back to the gym, or just eating salads for a while and adding 10 extra minutes a day to your walking routine. Or, gasp, living with the extra weight. As Anne Lamott says, the weight we lose comes home to roost and it’s likes the warm, soft places on our bodies.

          To be sure, the holidays are feast days, and we look forward to them all year for that reason. So how can we have our cake and eat is too? The truth is, Americans trend toward heavy simply because we have an abundant food supply, and unfortunately, cheap alternative fast food. We eat more calories than we burn—it’s as simple as that. And, as we age, and especially after we stop growing, our metabolism can’t keep up with that. It’s slower, and we’re slower.

Other places in the world, people walk most everywhere they go. They burn the calories they eat, so they can afford to eat heavier foods—breads and cheese and meat. We, on the other hand, get into our cars in the garage and drive to wherever we want to go, park as close to the front door as possible, and maybe even ride on a motorized shopping cart. We burn 3 calories and have a snack inside that contains 80.

All that said, the answer is not to go on a crash diet. The answer is to eat fewer calories and move more. Our bodies are designed for movement—and it doesn’t matter whether you go to the gym if you step up your movement game. You can burn calories walking, dancing, doing Zumba, riding a bicycle, or doing calisthenics. You cannot burn calories sitting in a chair scrolling through Facebook or watching YouTube videos. This is a lecture I’m giving myself. Y’all can listen in if you like. As soon as I finish excoriating myself, I’m going cook breakfast and go for a walk. Sensible, don’t you think.

                                        In the Spirit,

                                        Jane

Page Turner

 

Reading and Writing

“Writers save the world—or at any rate, they saved me and everyone I’m close to. When we were small, they were our travel guides and companions, great mysteries of life and family. They were mirrors, mentors, guide dogs. They helped me laugh about terrifying and isolating things, and made me question my very reason for existence, as well as my fears, prejudices, and illusions.”

Anne Lamott (Almost Everything, p.98, Riverhead Books, NY, 2018)

          I hope you are a reader—if you’re reading this, you must be. But I hope you are a reader of great books. I can’t remember when I started reading, but I’m pretty sure it was by first grade. I had great-aunts who were teachers, who taught my sister Jerrie to read before she went to kindergarten. While Mother didn’t regularly read to me, Jerrie did. Right up until she left home, she would read aloud to me, and I loved listening. Then, I read to my kids until they were mostly grown. Reading is the single most freeing thing one can do.

          Anne Lamott goes on to say in Almost Everything (p.98): “It’s ridiculous how hard life is. Denial and avoidance are unsuccessful strategies, but truth and awareness mend. Writing, creation, and stories are food.” Reading not only tells great stories, but it introduces us to worlds we did not know existed and informs us of things we would never have imagined. Writing, on the other hand, introduces us to ourselves. Even if what you write is never read by another human being, it serves the purpose of introducing you to all the personalities that exist within you. Journaling is great for this—since it is personal and private, you can be child, adolescent, middle-aged—whatever you like. And you don’t even have to write complete sentences. You can express yourself in doodles and drawings.

Since the spirit in you is shy, you may want to prepare the space by lighting a candle and maybe even placing a small vase of flowers on your writing table. Create sacred space but don’t be afraid to be feral in it. Let your wild-child run and play. Don’t censor, don’t correct, don’t even pay attention—just “let ‘er rip!” This frees you from the ego that wants to control everything and do it right. Instead, be like Rumi’s guest house and “welcome and entertain” all comers—whatever part of you shows up. Given the freedom to play, your unconscious mind will create its own stories.

According to Anne Lamott, reading and writing help us “take the blinders off…so we can look at life and our lives with care, and curiosity, and attention to detail, which are what will make us happy and less afraid.” We are as interesting as any character in any book. We have as much depth and history and longing and love as anyone else, real, or imagined. It’s helpful to tell the stories of those parts of yourself, of their independent lives, and their shared lives. There’s a whole cast of characters in there. It’s time to get acquainted with all of them.

                                        In the Spirit,

                                        Jane