Today’s News

I have always been a news junky. I would check news web sites several times during the day. My husband and I would eagerly look forward to sitting down in front of the TV and watch the evening news. Only then would we turn in.

But for the past 5 years it has been more stressful than educating. I would feel panicky after watching the broadcast — so much attention was placed on what the former president said or did and it seemed very little positives were highlighted for the current president. The news — even from our favorite stations — seemed to fall into an “”entertainment” rung rather than search out facts or present what was important to us. What we were interested in hearing more about was climate and education issues and voting issues. Little time was spent on those issues in the news broadcasts we watched. 

So I decided to forego watching the news. 

It was difficult at first and I initially thought of giving up the avoidance. But after 4 or 5 nights it became easy. I will be continuing it.My only hesitation is that I wonder if I will miss a breaking story that becomes important. Maybe — but I doubt it. Since I still am reading some news and most of my friends and family are connected to news I suspect I will know if something “big” happens.

So I will stay disconnected from network news at least for the near future. And it feels right for now.

On the path, Jane+

HOPE FOR 2022

Optimism is the belief that things are going to get better. Hope is the belief that we can make things better. Optimism is a passive virtue, hope is an active one. It takes no courage only words to be an optimist, but it takes courage and action to hope.        –Rabbi Jonathan Sachs

This is the last week of 2021 and I’ve been reflecting about what I want to keep and carry into 2022.  This isn’t a list of resolutions, but rather reflections on what I’ve been missing or have found valuable as I’ve lived through the last 365 days.  So here are some of my thoughts of what I hope to keep doing or being in the coming year. 

HUGS

I realized how much I loved hugging people hello and goodbye when Covid made it impossible.  It took awareness and energy to not reach out to hug.  Now, when I see someone I know, I step back instead of forward and make do with a  ‘Hi’ or a hands in prayer position bow.  I miss the connection of hugs with friends and family.  

In 2022 I hope to get to feeling safe enough to hug spontaneously.

NOTES

I had pledged at the beginning of 2021 to write short notes of thank you every couple of days to persons — those I know well, those who are acquaintances, those I’ve lost touch with from my past. I bought small notecards so as to keep what I write brief and had stamps and address labels. I wanted to give to others the joy I feel when I receive notes in the mail. I have saved a whole file drawer of note cards or letters written over the past 45 years of my career by former clients, family, friends, and people I’ve touched somehow expressing gratitude for something I’ve done. I call it my Rainy Day file and it has been a lifesaver at times when I’ve struggled with depression or life changes. I failed miserably in this small practice and sent only a couple dozen notes.

In 2022 I hope to write at least one note per week (realistic number) of gratitude and hope to someone I haven’t written to lately.  

MEANINGFUL QUOTATIONS

Email programs used to allow you to enter several different signature templates (name/address/quote) to appear at the end of your email and then would randomly select one of them each time you sent an email.  I loved that feature because it meant I could enter 10 or more unique quotations and a different one would appear at the end of my email each time.  It was eerie how frequently the quotation that randomly showed up would “match” the content or tone of my email.  Recipients would comment on that as well.  Sadly, that feature hasn’t been part of email programs (at least any that I have used) since the 2000’s. Now, I rarely change the quote on my email — perhaps once a year.

In 2022 I hope to change my quote once a month on my email and perhaps include a copy of a quote in each note card I write and mail.

ELFIN QUOTATION MAGIC

I am a quote collector and love adding to my list of quotes every time I discover another meaningful one (newly discovered Jonathan Sachs quotation at top of blogpost). Usually they just sit in my computer file (Writing > Xmas letters > quotes). I have sometimes sent 3 or 4 quotes printed on business card stock with each Christmas card or letter. But mostly they just stayed in the file without me even reading them. But I want to change that and give them away in the manner I saw “Elfin Magic” giving away Christmas joy with sparkling Christmas balls randomly in trees along the walking path in a park.

In 2022 I hope to collect quotes about hope and connection and action. I will print a variety of them on business cards, tie with ribbon in bunches of 5 and put them in public places like waiting rooms or library books as free “Elfin Magic” gifts.  

BECOMING AN ELF

If you haven’t read my blogpost Elfin Magic please check it out.  I was feeling less than positive as the calendar turned to December the year.  But the Elfin Magic I chanced upon transformed my sour mood into smiles and even a guffaw.  It was just a little thing — Christmas balls tied to trees along a walking path, but it felt like they were placed there to just for me to make me smile.  I thought of them nearly every day and smiled.  They brought joy and a sense of mystery and magic to my days.  I want to find ways to spread a little Elfin Magic at least a couple of times this year.  My Elfin Quotation Magic will be one way.  But I need help with this so I’m asking you to please — please — think of inexpensive ways that I might spread a smile to others and let them know that although we may not know each other, I know you are out there and I know you care, too.  Put any ideas you have  in the Comments section so I don’t have to go just on my own ideas.  And join me in doing these small things.  We can make a whole Elfin brigade — think of what smiles and hope and connection can do!!

In 2022 I hope to spread some Elfin Magic with at least 3 or 4 small things done anonymously for others to bring a bit of light and hope and connection in a stressful world.

 With love and hope,

Jane


	

Change and Transformation

While the word change normally refers to new beginnings, real transformation happens more often when something falls apart. 

Richard Rohr

Transformation

Change is inevitable. It is a necessary part of living — as necessary as shedding its too-tight skin is for the caterpillar.

The remarkable process of transformation begins with change but over time moves inevitably through three stages. Change is at the start and begins with losing something or someone essential (or at least very important) to us. With the loss we leave the familiar and enter an unknown territory — lost without a map to discern where we have landed or to guide us to back to the familiar. We want to “go home” but we have not yet realized that we cannot go home again. We don’t trust that we can find our way — either back to the familiar or forward to something new and survivable. When we are about to give up hope, there comes a faint glimmer of possibility — and if we move however cautiously towards it we find ourselves coming into a new space that beckons us to a more expansive life than we could have imagined possible before.

Yet transformation begins with pain — with the death of what served us well in the past but has constricted life in the present. Like the caterpillar that feels an irresistable drive to slip off its caterpillar identity and reveal the chrysalis beneath, transformation is not something we initially welcome but an involuntary entry into unknown territory. It often arrives with that heart-stopping “sound” of something precious cracking open, breaking. It commands our attention — we cannot ignore it. It might come as a life threatening diagnosis, a loss of a job we thought was secure, a sinkhole appearing under our home’s foundation, a pandemic shut down that isolates us from loved ones. When we realize what is being broken, our human response is to rush toward what is breaking open and fix it or repair it as we would a wound or hold onto it so it won’t go away. And that may work for awhile, but such “fixes” cannot hold the life force that is expanding beyond what contained it and will eventually open to new ways of seeing and being in our world. Transformation, in my experience, begins there, with that cracking open of something we have relied upon and thought was unchangeable but may no longer serve us — whether we realize it or not.

While we are in the middle of the transformation process, we cannot see those possibilities or new visions anymore than a 5 year old girl can imagine the pleasure and pain of a body that experiences pregnancy and birth.

What has given me hope in the midst of the many transformation processes I’ve experienced is knowing these three stages have always been part of whatever has at first felt like loss. From a long life filled with repeated experiences of the transformation process, I have learned I can trust that there will always — however long it takes — be a richer part of life after I have let go of what has been.

Letting go is always bittersweet and sometimes downright awful and wrenching. And I can truthfully tell you that there is nothing that makes that part easier — or that ends the longing to “go back” in some fashion to revisit what I had or who I was. But knowing that the process of transformation will inevitably open to something life giving helps me to slowly let go of what was and turn away from looking back. I can dwell in what is not yet clear when I trust that in the cosmic cycle of loss, chaos, and renewal there will yet be new life that I cannot even imagine. Even in death.

Reflections on Corona’s Lessons

[This was written to a beloved friend after watching the National Cathedral Sunday service and the Episcopal Presiding Bishop’s sermon.]

“What struck me in the service were the words that I’ve sung a million times but that suddenly resonated:  “Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come . .  .”   Yes! So many challenges in my life — and yours and all of us.  We have survived many challenges that seemed overwhelming.  But we survived and even grew and lived life well.  The words continue, “. . . it’s grace that has brought me safe this far and grace will lead me home.”  Grace — simple love and trust that there is a life force in this world and in all of us that is activated by love — love received, love given, love shared, love gifted not earned. 

The Bishop quoted Mahalia Jackson singing “If I can help somebody/as I travel along/with a word or a song/. . . then my living shall not be in vain.”  I remember my grandmother singing that.   

Somehow after hearing those passages I feel more in touch with what I truly believe instead of the fear and anxiety that has been so present.  I truly believe that there is the potential for love and goodness in this world and that even when T… and others who are similarly unconscious and malicious seem to cover all that is good, they cannot kill goodness and love. 

And perhaps this virus is something that (while horrible and a killer) will make us realize that the only way through this is to recognize our interconnection with each other and how if one of us is infected we are all in danger and to have a chance at life we have to think of others as well as ourselves and isolate until this virus cannot glom onto anyone else.

You probably think I’ve lost my mind (well, maybe I have?).  I’m not trying to preach to you — not my nature.  What I’m doing is thinking on paper — I can write my thoughts better than I can verbalize or think them.  

Please know that we send our love.  You are precious to us and we hope that soon we can forego this isolation and see you.  And your garden.  And my irises are growing — hoping for blooms!”

Resilience, Ambiguity . . . and Hope

They tried to bury us; they didn’t know we were seeds.                                                     (Mexican proverb)                               

Maybe “they” didn’t know we were seeds.  Did we?  

To believe we can survive and grow when all seems lost requires hope.  Hope comes from experience we reflect upon . . . living through difficult events, challenges, losses, or woundings.  In the early moments of the difficult, we may feel unequal to it, perhaps overwhelmed, perhaps pretending or hoping that it is an illusion and will soon fade away.  But when we have experienced and faced a challenge and come through it — whatever scars we may carry — we can know for future events that feeling unequal or overwhelmed and having no idea how to survive the difficulty is just that — a feeling and not a reality. We can trust that step by step, somehow, some way we can move through the challenge and find a way to continue our journey.

I learn that lesson again and again as I live into my later years.  Each time life challenges me with another difficulty (small or large) I look back to difficulties I have faced in the past and find hope that carries me through the time of unknowing until I reach a place where the path becomes clearer.  I may have to let go of some things that have been important to me, that I thought I could not live without.  But I find out of those experiences of challenge has always come what I have called at various times nuggets of wisdom or pilgrimage truths.  

William Bridges, author of The Way of Transition has guided me in that process.  Bridges distills our human responses to challenges or changes into three internal transitional phases: Ending/Losing/ Letting Go, The Neutral Zone, and New Beginnings.

Events, difficulties, challenges happen to us. We usually have little control over such change events.  Transition, unlike external change events, is the psychological and internal response to external changes.  Transition theory begins with a jolt of change that disrupts our lives in some way. The change may be big enough to rock our foundations or it may be a seemingly small change that calls for just a slight shift.  We may feel capable of adjusting relatively quickly or we may need to allow ourselves time to catch our breath, cling to something solid, and feel our feelings.  Whatever the change, we need to take stock of what is left and what is gone, what we will need to take with us into the future and what we need to let go of.  This first phase is painful and difficult for most of us.  We may feel anger bubbling up unbidden, we may be irritable and prickly towards loved ones, our tears may well up without warning, our energy may flag, our optimism may be lost.  Go with these feelings, knowing they are normal.  They will not last forever.  Slowly and honestly, take stock, find what matters, let go of the rest. . .

The next phase of Transition according to Bridges is The Neutral Zone.  We have let go of the past, yet there is no new beginning — nothing that we can grab hold of.  We are in between and it feels scary.  It feels, too, like there is no way out of this in between time and we feel trapped and discouraged.  This Neutral Zone is always for me a place of confusion, a bit of panic (will there be a future?  how do I prepare if I don’t know for what?).  Yet, if I “trust the process” and let it unfold (perhaps in collaboration with others) and if I call on who I am and what I need and can give, the Neutral Zone is a place where energy stirs and creativity pokes through with new possibilities.  Such creative new beginnings are only possible if we trust that panic and confusion are part of this and that out of that state will emerge something new.  Is this totally Pollyanna?  Not at all.  In every ending is a new beginning that will grow and enrich us if we do not succumb to the siren song of quick fixes.  If we can allow ourselves to live in ambiguity, in not-knowing, our innate human drive for growth will eventually begin to offer up creative insight, and new possibilities.

The New Beginning emerges — always.  This is what one learns through experiences of change and inner psychological transition.  It may not be what we expected, but it will give us life.  This is the grounded hope that we can trust when we have lived through this transitional process in the past and consciously affirmed the process in reflection.   If we have been fortunate to not yet live through difficult change in  our lives, we can learn this process and perhaps tuck it away in the back of our awareness for retrieval when we need it.  

Many times after I have shared my story with someone, they have been surprised at my willingness to accompany others through their deep and tragic challenges while also maintaining an everyday optimism and cheer. They often say they could not have lived through the experiences I have described.  I know that we can live through almost anything with the grounded hope and conviction that something is to be learned from transition, and that new beginnings will always follow endings.

Jane

Grief

Grief

I need someone who believes that the sun will rise again, but who does not fear my darkness. . . Someone who can stand in thunder and watch the lightning and believe in a rainbow.    (Fr. Joe Mahoney)

Grief is one of the loneliest experiences one can have in our “I can handle this — I’m OK”, death-defying American culture.   Many of us run from the grief of a friend and even pretend that we haven’t noticed their pain. We try to distance from the grieving by making sense of it with one of many inanities: “She’s better off now and isn’t in pain”, or “Don’t cry.  He’s in heaven with God,” or “Your little girl is a flower in God’s garden now.”  Our corporate culture gives us 3 days of bereavement leave and assumes we should be all over our grief after that. 

Not at all!   Grief opens a trap door into deep darkness where we search desperately for the path that will return us to the life we knew — but we cannot find it.  And indeed there is no path back to the life we once knew.  That life is gone forever because of our loss.  We want our dinner table to have the same faces around it — but someone is missing.  We want our self-confidence back after the loss of a job, and yet when we bump into a former co-worker at the grocery store, we turn down another aisle hoping that she hasn’t seen us.  We feel an urgency to make a friend more comfortable by reassuring him that we are just fine even though our sad eyes betray the lie.

I need someone who believes that the sun will rise again, but who does not fear my darkness.

Yes, I need someone who can allow my tears to flow.  I need someone who doesn’t feel the tug to cheer me up.  I need someone who can just hold me safely and firmly in a hug that lasts long enough for me to relax into it and trust the closeness.

I need someone who has faced the darkness of loss in their own life, who knows the pain is deep and real, and yet who knows — at a cellular level — that however long the darkness of grief lasts for me or for anyone, healing will follow, and I will laugh again.  It is only someone who has felt the numbness and darkness of loss suck them  into the dark, bottomless pit. . . one who has waited, longed to find, yearned for the path that travels toward light again . . . only that one can truly bear witness with their presence alongside another’s grief that joy will come with the morning (Psalm 30:5).

. . .Someone who can stand in thunder and watch the lightning and believe in a rainbow.

The path toward the light and toward life again is not backward toward restoring what was.  The path toward the light is a path toward a life that is different in some way.  Grief changes us.   Loss (whatever has been lost) has taken something from us.  Over time as healing comes, we can learn something about our resilience, creativity, faith, hope, love.  Love will connect us forever with what we have lost., if we wish that.  Memories will remain.  But we will need to move forward with our lives, looking for a way to use the lessons of loss and survival in ways that may help others.  We can create meaningful action from the hard won struggle that heals.

I pray that when we heal from our own losses, we may become persons who, having heard the thunder and seen the lightning, still watch for the rainbows.  May we be the ones who can be present in another’s darkness without fear, knowing the sunrise is just over the horizon.

Jane

 

 

 

 

Staying Grounded in a World of Despair

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I am in need of peace and hope. No, I am not in despair, but there are times in this chaos of 2018 in America when it seems that all that was familiar is being dismantled or hatefully deconstructed.  And what I value in life: kindness, honesty, caring actions towards others, strength of purpose, wisdom . . . these things are being devalued, tossed away, seen as weak and worthless.

It is when I realize I am on the edge of the dark abyss that I go to my Poetry and Inspiration digital file.  When I taught, I always opened my class with 5-8 minutes of silent centering/meditation/ breathwork and then (to end the silence) read one of many poems that I had collected over the years and that fit the day’s class content.  One of them was Wendell Berry’s The Peace of Wild Things:

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Today is a day on the edge of the abyss, and so I go happily to walk in today’s rain shower and feel the cleansing and peace of just being alive.   I rest in the grace of the world and am free.  

Blessings and hope and peace.

Jane +