When cajoled by my son to hurry up, I discovered that not only am I no longer the family fast-walker, but I am no longer racing through life. My choice to slow down has led to a sense of spaciousness that feels very, very good.
Moments of true happiness don’t have to be planned or require reservations. They don’t have to be anything fancy. They don’t need to be part of an adventure or vacation. They can happen quite literally in your own backyard when your dog drops a soggy tennis ball at your feet and grins at you. All you have to do is seize the moment and say, "YES! I'll play!" Then enjoy every moment.
When it turned out that skiing for the first time in ten years was not exactly like riding a bike for me I had a little meltdown. And then, thanks to my mindfulness practices, a part of me that was deeper and wiser than my dejected skier-self realized that I had to the power to choose how I would experience the remainder of our vacation. I am so grateful that I was able to let go and thereby free myself to enjoy the gifts we’d given ourselves by taking a family vacation - the rare opportunity to spend time together with all of my grown children and the even rarer chance to play with one another. I am thankful for the reminder that mindfulness really is a superpower.
On the first night of our family vacation, I had a moment of perfect contentment. It was late. We were hungry. The restaurant was too loud, too warm, too crowded, too slow. AND I was perfectly happy. Happiness and contentment are not around the corner in some imaginary future. They are right smack in the middle of each messy, hangry, less-than-perfect, hilarious moment along the way. All we have to do is notice.
I don't know if I've ever been haunted by a photograph before. It has been weeks since my photographer friend put her phone away after showing me the image and it has popped into my mind almost daily. Though it is a beautiful image, its resonance has felt deeper than that. Last night, as I lay in bed, I realized why the image so captivated me. Somehow, magnificently, in artfully framing what she saw, she also created an image that points to the unseen wonder and mystery of life. Her photo is a perfect visual description of what happens in spiritual direction sessions. I hope you'll read on to share my written experience of her visual image.
There is so much heaviness in the world today. Big, sweeping suffering - from the savagery being wreaked on the people of Ukraine to the plight of the polar bears - can leave us feeling small and powerless. My tendency to believe in the power of light, love, and the general goodness of humankind can feel a little naïve in the face of it all. Could the practices, perspectives, and philosophy that I teach to so many possibly help anyone navigate the hazards of our time? Is it foolish to invest such energy seeking insight, harmony, and connection rather than answers and actions to solve hundreds of problems I can barely begin to understand? These were my thoughts this morning when I rounded a corner on my walk and received glorious affirmation in the goodness at the heart of life in a magnificent sunrise sky.
'Tis the season of traditions. Some I love and some make me feel incredibly rebellious. Some give me the urge to dig in my heels or push back against expectations. In my mind, this is exactly what sets apart traditions that add to a holiday experience from traditions that feel onerous, burdensome, and just “extra.” They feel like expectations – expectations that add effort without the payoff of meaning. These are not traditions I want to hold on to. I’d rather invest my energy in things - old and new - that bring my family together and make us happy.
As I caught up with one of my cousins, he said, "My goodness, that is a full plate." And my plate (and probably yours, too) is full. Choosing a Thanksgiving state of mind is a choice to focus on all that is OK right now. This state of mind does not pretend that everything is OK. In fact, facing and accepting the struggles, burdens, challenges, and pains that life is delivering makes each moment that we take a thankful pause vastly more meaningful. Will you join me in spending the next week refocusing (again and again and again) on all that is OK right now? If we do, together we can have a very happy Thanksgiving indeed. And if we keep it up, Thanksgiving could become more than a holiday. It could be a way of life.
One of my sweetest memories is a weekday afternoon when we should have been doing a dozen other things, but instead my kids and I decided to watch Christmas movies. Was this “the best of times?” I also have a niggling memory of how we wound up in that chair – total exhausted collapse from days of nagging, reminding, and hounding them to practice the piano, do their homework, clean their rooms, and brush their teeth. I am so glad that I am longer the drill sergeant that motherhood required me to be for almost two decades. So, was this also “the worst of times?” I am left wondering if it is possible that what makes "the best of times" is, in part, the way we handle "the worst of times."