Getting Past the Rocky Places

So here we are, at Step Three of the “Recipe for Happiness.” This one tells us that once we have learned Step One, letting go of what’s gone, and Step Two, that says to be grateful for what’s left, we’re ready for the final step. And I confess that I found this one a real challenge. It’s message is to “Look forward to what is to come.”

We who inhabit this planet seem to be living in an increasingly precarious and uncertain time. As I’ve mentioned before, I kind of like the phrase “The Great Shaking,” to describe what’s going on. A lot of us feel shaken by unexpected happenings in our lives these days, on both personal and global levels. It can be hard to maintain hope for the future when you’re in the midst of insidious and confusing events.

But hey, if you’re a Joy Warrior, you have to give optimism at least a chance. So I wrestled a bit with the thought of looking forward to what’s to come, and I cobbled together this little positivity approach:

The Invisible Positivity Globe

Leave open a space for the possibility of happy endings. Things could work out very well–better than you ever imagined.

Go ahead; try this: Fantasize about clearing out a little corner of your mind, maybe over there on a shelf. Now take an invisible little energy globe into your hand and ask it to hold the possibility that a superb outcome will emerge. Just the possibility. Then tuck that little globe on the shelf. (A friend of mine keeps all her ideas-to-explore on such a shelf. Poking around in there can be a fascinating experience. You learn so much, she tells me. And it’s so interesting and insightful! And fun!) Anyway, now you’ve created a space with your little globe that you can turn to at any time to see what positive possibilities it’s projecting.

Some friends and I used to call looking for possibilities “fishing in the cosmic soup.” All kinds of surprising ideas are there. And that little invisible globe over there on your shelf? It’s the holder of the energy-nuggets in the soup that are made of peaceful and positive possibilities. They swirl around inside your little globe as you gaze at it, projecting them onto its invisible walls, and they become daydreams for you, any time you want to see them.

Listen, every path has its rocky stretches. It’s part of the package deal you were given when you arrived here. The ugly stretches come. But we keep going, even when we feel lost and maybe even afraid. Then, sooner or later, here comes another unexpected turn. It opens to a world of radical clarity and calm, offering you a smooth and winding path that stretches as far as the eye can see. Imagine that! Play with imagining what your ideal world would look like.

For a long time I was amazed that the world worked at all, so great was its chaos. Little did I know that even greater causes for amazement were quickly sliding down the pike. But here they are. And the more I see of what’s going on here, on this interesting planet of ours, the more amazed I am indeed, given all this shaking, that the world works at all. Life can be bewildering. Scary even. You have to watch out for what some call “fear porn.” That’s a craze going on that’s helllbent on making us all very afraid. Some say it’s part of a plan. Who knows! Everything seems a bit surreal these days. Just learn to check in with your thoughts now and then. And remember what I recently shared with you: You can’t stop thoughts from knocking at your door, but you don’t have to entertain them.

You can always return to the present and look around to see what’s happening here, now. It’s a good place to visit as you go about your travels through this movie of your life. And when things seem rocky and your hope is sliding away, take a few minutes to visit your positivity globe. Let it show you some of the countless ways that things could work out for the good, for us all. Because, you know, they can.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by J Lang from Pixabay

Note to Late Bloomers

First isn’t always best. Oh, it’s daring
alright, with its thirst for adventure,
and someone must try the waters,
scout the way. But most must fill
the middle, and some stand at the end.
If you’re one of those, the last guys,
don’t envy those who went before,
but thank them. They are, after all,
the scaffolding on which you stand,
affording you the broadest view,
the one that experience alone provides.
Your turn is coming. Meanwhile,
watch and listen. Let the best of what
you see feed you with wisdom and grow
your strength. Then, when the light
signals your time, blossom boldly,
singing your truest song.

Leaving the Dream World

I scan the morning’s headlines over coffee.
It’s the usual nightmare of conflict, corruption and crime.
As if I’d swallowed a cup of cement, the news pulls me down,
burying the morning’s hope in its weight.
But then I notice that the sun is shining, and it pulls me
out the door. My eyes see the clear sky, the light
filtering through the summer leaves. My heart , however,
is still heavy with sorrow for us all. “Go to the park,”
a soft voice whispers inside me. “Take a walk,
clear your head.” So I go.

After a while, I wander toward the garden.
And there, perched atop an echinacea,
a tiny creature looking like a winged horse,
its face painted like a circus pony, sits
sipping nectar. “Are you real?” I ask, astonished.
But there is no doubting it. Or the song
that my heart begins to croon. Here,
in this now, is Yes, is beauty. Here,
in this now, reality expands, filled with joy
and waking. And everything else is but dream.

Shy Hellos

They whisper their little, shy hellos,
surprised to find you smiling
at their starry pastel faces.
As hidden as they are,
visitors are few, except, of course,
for the ants and beetles who come
daily with neighborhood news.
In fact, at first they weren’t quite sure
that you were real, given your enormous size.
But they saw the delight
dancing in your eyes
and felt the heart-warmth
of your smile. And that
quite easily convinced them.
There’s no mistaking love,
and nothing, after all, is
so unquestionably real.

First Lullaby

It began when the firmament separated from the waters. It was the first song, carrying all the peace and power that the universe contains, expressing all the love of the Yes and all the joy.

It washed in, and flowed out, and its rhythm has continued to this day. And all creatures everywhere know its sound, whether they have stood on a sea’s shore or not, for it is the breathe of God, and its life and comfort swirls ceaselessly in great currents ‘round the globe, and in sacred rivers in the bodies of all beings who dwell here.

And if you are still, you will hear its secrets rising from your heart, and its song will bring you endless peace.

The Old Iron Bridge

Few, driving past it, notice the old iron bridge.
It’s fallen into disrepair after all these years.
But my 80-year-old neighbor remembers
when a road crossed it, leading to the school.
Once a saw mill, a grist mill, houses and stables
lined the creek here. The man who built them
bought fifteen acres of land for $1200.
Lives as real and dramatic as ours,
come and gone. Pay attention.
Notice the remnants of what was. Cherish
the reality of this swiftly passing world.
A future most can’t even imagine
is quickly gobbling us up.

The Philosophy of the Day Lily

The day lily chose today to open.
When you’re a day lily, you only get one,
you know. Well, maybe two or three
if you’re strong and lucky. So you have
to make the best of it, to give it all
you’ve got, to take this splendid gift
of hours and breathe in all the world’s
sights and sounds, to offer it
your boldest colors, your purest song.
And when your day is done, to carry
with you, sharp and clear, the memory
of every incredible moment that
it was your honor to live.

Singing Sunshine

Truth is simple. You can curve it all you want,
embroider its gowns, stretch it into elaborate fables.
But in the end, it’s still the irreducible essence.

It’s the light, shining from the center of all things.
It’s the life, endlessly emerging.
It’s the love, streaming boundlessly
from the heart of the Yes.
It rides our breath. It unfolds through our being,
through the being of all things.

Today, in my garden, It’s a patch of little blossoms
beaming their joy on a warm summer day.

Be glad.

Navigating the Unknown

Last week we looked at Step One of the “Recipe for Happiness – Letting Go of What’s Gone.” Now let’s look at Step Two: “Be grateful for what remains.”

I could go on and on about the uplift that gratitude brings. It’s on my short list of favorite emotions. And, farther down, I will share a way you can tap into it when you need an inner vacation. But a lot of us are struggling to cope with serious losses these days, and I want to suggest that gratitude can provide a healing balm for the deepest pain.

In times of profound loss, we can slide into pools of grief so deep that life seems completely devoid of meaning. Someone in the pits of grief might say, “What’s the point of going on? I am nothing without all that’s gone.” Everything has changed, and the unknown future can look bleak, without a glint of joy. I know that I felt that way for a while when a cherished loved one died. But, like most of us who encounter that soul-deep, empty feeling, I trudged on.

In the thick of terrible fighting, back in World War II, Winston Churchill told his people, “When you’re going through hell, keep going.” It’s good counsel to remember. Because, you know, life changes.

And time truly heals. When my son died, a wise friend told me that the pain never goes away, but in time, it finds a little corner of your heart in which to dwell. Decades have passed since then, and now and then I visit that little corner of my heart. I can only call what’s happened in that corner “beautiful.” The pain has condensed into a little dark cloud, and it floats across a vast sea of golden memories. I can see that beloved face again, glowing and wonderful, and hear that laugh, and I see that this shimmering ocean–which contains all that he was to me–is a priceless treasure.

Time can do that. Give yourself time. Keep going. And maybe somewhere along your path, you’ll hear Tara Brach’s guidance to say to yourself, “This is suffering. Everybody suffers. May I be kind.” Be kind to yourself as best you can. And be kind to others. They’re part of the “everybody” who knows suffering.

So that’s the first rule: Keep going. And as you go, practice letting go of all that is in the past. Be assured, the memory will remain and after a while, you’ll gain perspective on it. What you want to let go is your clinging to it. “You can’t stop thoughts from entering your mind,” somebody once told me, “but you don’t have to entertain them.” You have better things to do. You could, for instance, look around, see what’s left, and be thankful for it.

One of the ways you can do that is to tune in to your senses, one by one. What are you seeing? What do you hear? What textures and pressures do you feel against you skin–from head to toe? What can you smell? Taste? Consider what an amazing thing each sense is, bringing you all this information about your surroundings, telling you that you’re still alive, and here, in this unfathomable world. Then tap into your sense of gratitude and send a thought of thanks to your senses, to your body, to the life force within it. Maybe you’ll become aware of the marvel that air is moving in and out of you, all of its own accord. It’s carrying waves of color and fragrance and sound, and light is traveling through it, and it enters you and feeds you. You are what remains when you let all that has passed be past. And everything you truly need is inside you.

Once you embrace that, you’re ready for Step Three in the “Recipe for Happiness,” the one that challenges you to look forward to what’s ahead. We’ll wrap up this little series with that one next week.

In the meantime, may your heart rest in gratitude, for all that you are, all that you contain, and for the countless wonders that surround you.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Peace Lives Here

We name things: rock, water, earth, grass,
trees, leaves, sky. But in truth it’s all a whole
—one song, one dance—no more separate
than eye from elbow in the whole of you.

The elements flow from form to form,
supporting and nourishing all. Your breathing
is no different from that of the trees.
The same light falls on us all, the same rain.
The same love brings us into being
—you, me, the earth, the stream, the trees—
grows us, dissolves us, raises us transformed.

Standing here you feel the force of it whispering
in silent thunder beneath all things. You breathe
with the water, with the earth, with the leaves.
Your heartbeat and the song of the birds
and of the rippling waters are one.
Truth lives here, flowing through you.
Feel its grace. Be at peace.