Category: Sunday Letters

One night this week I happened on an old interview with Neale David Walsch, author of the popular Conversations with God series. At the time of the interview, Walsch was just out with his fourth book, Awaken the Species, and he was talking about some of the main concepts it covers.

In case you’re not familiar with the Conversations series—or not even vaguely interested in reading what somebody says about God—you may find it intriguing that the first point the voice that Walsch identified as “God” had to make was, “You’ve got me all wrong.”

As Walsch pointed out in the interview, even if you’ve dismissed the idea of the existence of God entirely, if that sentence has even a smidgen of truth to it, it suggests that you may want to question what you do believe about the possibility and nature of a conscious, unimaginably vast and creative Supreme Being.

That suggestion—about questioning beliefs—prompted me to remember one of the most challenging and valuable assignments I was ever given in college. It was the final exam in a course called “American Thought and Language,” which covered significant (and often opposing) ideas that had arisen in the country from the time prior to the Revolution up to the present. The assignment was to write an essay entitled “I Believe,” in which we were to discuss a few of our personal beliefs and give our reasons for holding them.

Every now and then, I assign that essay to myself again, just to uncover the beliefs that are driving me now and to examine them. If you’re up for the challenge, I heartily recommend it. It’s very revealing.

But that’s not the main thought that I brought away from the Walsch interview. The idea that struck me most deeply was one Walsch shared when the host asked him what was the biggest piece of advice he could give people, based on his latest book. Walsch said he would tell people what he was told was the most important thing: “Your life isn’t about you. It has nothing to do with you. It’s about everyone whose life you touch and the way in which you touch it.”

My whole being breathed a sigh of awe over the profound beauty of that thought. Imagine what it would be like if each of us asked, “How can I help? What can I do to make your life easier, more comfortable, more peaceful, more pleasant?” What if we looked for ways we could give encouragement to each other? If we set out to make the environment a healthier more beautiful place? If we listened to each other more? If we looked more into each other’s eyes? If we looked for ways to ease another’s burden or to alleviate some of their stress? If we did our jobs knowing that they were contributing, in however small a way, to the well-being of others and took joy in that?

So that’s the thought I leave with you this week, the message that it’s all about every life you touch and how you touch it.

I wish you the insight to see what’s needed, and the generosity of spirit to give as only you can.

Warmly,
Susan

^{Image by bingngu93 from Pixabay}

A couple decades ago, I began my online writing career with a now-defunct site called “The Magical Mirror Machine.” It was a continuation of a paper newsletter of the same name that I sent to people who signed up for it at The Mind’s Eye, a metaphysical bookstore and art gallery that I ran at the time.

The premise of the Magical Mirror Machine is that the world reflects back to us exactly who we are.

I remembered it this week when a bout of introspection got me to thinking about the way that we often criticize in others the very shortcomings that we’re most blind to in ourselves. If we paid attention to what the Magical Mirror was showing us, we’d have a good idea where we could use a course-correction ourselves.

Try it out. The next time you catch yourself criticizing somebody, think about what you want them to be that you believe they’re not being. Then ask yourself in what ways you are guilty of the same thing.

It can take a little digging. If you’re nagging your roommate because he always leaves his socks on the floor, the Mirror probably isn’t saying that you should be neater yourself. (Although that might be the message. Are you always leaving globs of toothpaste in the bathroom sink?) Instead, the Mirror is often seeing through your surface complaint to a deeper issue.

It could be saying, for instance, that you wish your roommate would be more appreciative of the work you do to keep your environment clean and tidy. In other words, you want more appreciation for your contributions to the household. Hmmm. And just how appreciative are you of his contributions? When’s the last time you sincerely and specifically expressed your thanks for all he does?

The way the Mirror works is that what you put out, it reflects back. If you want to get back something different, try putting it out. If you want to be listened to, listen more. If you want more affection, give more of it.

But don’t forget to look at the merit that the Mirror shows you as well. When you’re keenly interested in something, the Mirror is hinting at one of your strengths. When you’re enjoying making something, it’s reflecting your creativity and skills. When you notice how kind people are, it’s reflecting your own kindness. When you’re laughing, it’s showing you what you enjoy.

And it’s these kinds of messages, the positive ones, that will tell you what will truly enrich your life. Notice when the Mirror is reflecting your best traits, and cultivate those. Learn what makes you happy, what touches your heart, what makes you feel strong and capable and confident, and make a point of doing more of those things.

We always get farther by cultivating our strengths than by trying to fix our weaknesses. And once you know what your strengths truly are, you can draw on them to guide you the next time the Mirror shows you a place that needs a little polishing.

Wishing you a week where you brilliantly shine!

Warmly,
Susan

^{Image by Pexels from Pixabay}

This week, I watched as a series of nasty energy waves ensnared a bunch of folks in my circle of loved ones and acquaintances. A couple of the waves that hit were made of nothing more than incessant aggravations. But some were huge and full of fury. And they came out of nowhere, without precedent or warning. I won’t burden you with details. I will say that I got caught in a couple of them, too.

There was a time when blows as hard as these would have been enough to knock me down and maybe even drown me. But luckily, over the years, I’ve learned how to ride them.

(I like that description, by the way, because it reminds me of an old poster that shows this robed, bearded old guru, soaking wet and riding with outstretched arms and a broad grin on a surf board atop a big, rolling wave. “You can’t stop the waves,” the poster said. “But you can learn how to surf.”)

Ah, yes. Surfing the waves. It’s not a skill that you develop overnight. Well, unless you’re one of those blessed few who are suddenly struck with enlightenment or maybe have a near-death experience that convinces you that in the end all is well.

Nope. It takes practice. It’s one of those things that are simple, but not easy. And it’s not easy because you have to remember to practice it. In essence, it’s a matter of being in the present, of attending to what’s right in front of you, of what you’re doing right now.

We get caught up in playing emotionally charged tapes from our past – like the argument we had with someone this morning, or something somebody said that pushed one of our buttons . Or we get lost in problem-solving for the future, like planning what we could have for dinner or what might happen at the meeting tomorrow. The present zips past without our even noticing. We’re so mesmerized by our mind-movies that what’s right in front of us is absolutely invisible.

I went for a walk once with a friend who suffered from schizophrenia. He was taking his meds and in an upbeat mood that day. As we walked he was telling me about his favorite Broadway plays and singing the lyrics from them with heart and animation, as if he were the star performer on the stage.

 Every now and then, I’d point out something in the environment that caught my eye. “Oh! Look at the trim on that house!” I’d say. Or “Isn’t that a beautiful flower!” Then I’d let him talk and sing some more. He sang wonderfully and was very entertaining.

As we got back to my house, I pointed out one more thing that I noticed. He stopped in his tracks and looked at me in wonderment. “Can you do that all the time?” he asked incredulously.

“Do what?” I asked. I had no idea what he meant.

“See what’s out there!” he said.

His comment gave me a profound insight into his situation. The thoughts in his head were so intense that for someone to notice what was in the immediate environment seemed an act of magic.

But the fact is, without being ill at all, most of us spend nearly all of our time lost in our own inner dramas, in our thoughts and our interpretations and our memories and problem solving. We’re just wired that way. We live in our stories instead of in the actual moment that’s unfolding all around us. And we react with our emotions to whatever stories we’re telling ourselves, instead of seeing what is real and choosing how we want to respond.

The key to escaping from these inner movies is simply to practice noticing what’s really going on right now. In fact, that’s a question you can learn to ask yourself: “What’s really going on right now?” (Jot that down and put it somewhere that you’ll spot it from time to time.) Then tune in to the moment. You can practice doing a body scan, for instance, to see where you’re tense right now and let that area soften and relax up a bit. Or notice what your posture is telling you. You can take a sensory break every now and then and notice what data each of your senses is offering you. You can stop from time to time to see how long you can keep your attention on your breathing. You can describe to yourself what you’re doing: “This is me, washing dishes, seeing the soap bubbles, feeling the warm water and the texture of the plates, hearing the sounds they make as I wash them.”

The big benefit of staying in the present is that you learn not to make programmed judgments about what is happening. Things are just happening. Right now. You don’t know where they’ll lead. The future isn’t here yet and could hold anything. So you’re not upset, or giddy, or frustrated, or angry. You’re not projecting into the future or resurrecting reactions from the past. You’re not comparing what’s going on to what you wanted or feared. You’re simply observant, and maybe curious, and probably more awake, and most likely quite appreciative.

Don’t worry; you won’t get stuck there. You’ll still look for the way that events have meaning for your life. You’ll still have real problems that require real solutions. But you’ll look at things from a refreshed perspective, and the rhythm of the waves will be just that – a rhythm that you learn to flow with, atop it all, wet maybe, but balanced and at peace.

Wishing you presence, right here, right now, all week.

Warmly,
Susan

^{Image by Devon Chandler from Pixabay}

I’ve been listening lately to lectures by Dr. Jordan B. Peterson,  a clinical psychologist and professor emeritus at the University of Toronto, whose complex thoughts attract me with their depth and insight.  When you listen to him, you need to stop doing anything else and truly listen.  He speaks quickly and packs each sentence with layers of meaning.  But listening thoughtfully is worth the effort it requires of you.

One of the ideas he conveyed in the lectures I heard this week is that dragons, in mythology, represented (among other things) chaos.  And that slaying them makes you a hero.

Our own lives are a constant battle between chaos and order, and to be a hero in your own life means you slay the dragons that are bringing chaos to it so that you can have less confusion and greater clarity and competence in your life.

The first step in battling your dragons is the toughest.  You have to face the fact that they’re there.  You know that they are, and that they’re keeping you from being all that you can be.

Dr. Peterson says that the secret of overcoming your dragons is to take responsibility for them.   Taking responsibility builds your character and gives your life meaning.  It allows you to aim for living on a higher level than you are now.

Here’s how he says to do it.  You know there are things in your life that aren’t in order, where you’re not together, and they’re causing you some discomfort or suffering.   Every morning, or every night, ask yourself what those things are.

Ask as if you’re asking someone you really want the answer from, not telling yourself or preaching, but sincerely asking what needs to be put in order.  You can easily name five of them he says, “Bang-Bang-Bang.”  These are the little dragons of chaos.  “And they’re just little, but that’s good, because you’re not much of a hero warrior, so maybe little dragons are all you can put up with right now.”  So you name them and the begin sorting them out.

You ask yourself which one you’ll put some work into, even if the work is tedious or boring, or whatever it is that’s been allowing you to put it off.  And you do the work.  You sort those things out.

And what happens is it will bring more order into your life and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be just a little more focused and together.  Then you ask the same question, “What are my dragons?” and the next problems will be a little more complex and challenging, and you sort those out.  And you keep going with this, and you become stronger and more clear-headed for the next set of dragons you take on.

If you continue to do that, you’ll find that your room gets cleaned, your health improves, and your house gets put in order, and then maybe you can stick a finger out and begin looking at the dragons in your community.  By that time, you’ll have some real personal power and self-confidence, and some practice at identifying dragons and taking them on.

Now that, he says, is an interesting and exciting game.  “If you started doing the things that you know you should do and you did that diligently, what the hell would you be like in ten years?”  You might not reach the very pinnacle, but you’ll be a lot better off than you are now, a lot less self-pitying and resentful, with a lot less suffering in your life, a lot less cruel to yourself and other people.  “And that’s a pretty good start.”

So here’s to slaying dragons.  Which ones will you start with today?

Wishing you a sharp sword and hardy determination!

Warmly,
Susan

Some time ago, I received an invitation to participate in an unusual study. Its purpose was to determine the impact of a simple five-minute daily practice on participants’ fears and their experience of well-being.

Because one of the designers of the study was a former mentor and instructor of mine, Ann-Marie McKelvey, whom I like very much and trust deeply, and because I only had to invest five minutes a day for two weeks, I agreed. Who can’t clear five minutes in their day?

The practice is called “The Three Treasures Practice,” by the way, because it draws on the disciplines of loving-kindness meditation, EMDR (a therapy technique for reducing the effects of trauma), and the findings of positive psychology.

My immediate response to the practice, after did my first session, was, “Wow! That was easy – and do I feel great!” But it was only after the first full week of doing my daily sessions that I began to see the incredible power of the practice.

Before beginning it, we participants took a brief survey that had us identify one of our biggest fears and to rate it, and the negative feelings that went with it, on a scale of 1-10. I rated my fear at a 5. But my feelings of grief and sadness over it scored a 9. To my surprise, by the end of the first week, all my scores dropped dramatically. I was looking at the situation from an altogether different perspective.

By the end of the second week, my fear and the sadness and grief were hardly at play at all in my life. I felt free from my concerns and saw clearly that if the situation I had feared did materialize, I would be able to deal with it , minute by minute, as it unfolded. I thought about the old adage that most of what we worry about never happens. And even when it does, it rarely takes any of the forms we imagined. All my apprehensions had done nothing but waste time I could have spent enjoying life in the present.

I ‘knew’ all of that about worry before I began the practice. But I worried anyway, and was deeply attached to my concerns. What you know in theory is far from the things you learn from experience. The Practice simply melted my worries away. Life became lovelier and more vibrant again. Day by day, I was effortlessly moving into a broader, easier world.

It’s been a long time now since I first learned The Three Treasures Practice, and my understanding of its beauty and power has only deepened in that time.

My own experience with the practice has been so profound that I wanted to share it with you. And I’m delighted to say that the developers of the practice and of the study have given all the participants full permission to share it.

So consider this a happy invitation to try it yourself. Make a commitment to give it a full two-week try. Start by writing down what you biggest fear is and rate its intensity from 1-10, where 10 is complete, abject fear, and 0 is no worry. Then think about the feelings that accompany your fear. Does it make you feel any of these emotions: Loss? Anxiety? Grief? Sadness? Anger? Loneliness? Which ones? Rate the intensity of those, too, so you can see the changes in your life at the end of the first week and at the end of the second.

Remember that the practice is designed not only to ease your fears, but to heighten your sense of well-being as well .

Before I share the instructions for the practice itself, here’s a worthwhile little exercise to do first, a kind of warm-up session. For me, it was quite interesting.

All you have to do is jot down the following feelings and rate each of them from 1-10 as you’re feeling them right now: Joy, Peace, Openness, Love, Connection, Kindness, Trust, and Happiness.

You don’t have to do that part. But if you do, it will give you a way to evaluate how the practice is working for you.

Now here are the actual instructions for the practice, as given to those of us who engaged in the study:

Instructions for The Three Treasures Practice

Sit comfortably in a quiet environment. Take deep inhales and deep exhales as you settle.

Cross your arms over your chest and place your hands on alternate shoulders. [Right hand on left shoulder; left hand on right shoulder.]

In a determined way, gently and slowly tap each shoulder one at a time. Tap so that it is loud enough to hear. This is called the EMDR Butterfly Hug.

Keep doing the Butterfly Hug as you say the following phrases to yourself in rhythm with your taps, silently or out loud, Repeat them until your five minutes are up.

• May I now be filled with loving kindness
• May I now be safe and protected
• May I now be resilient in mind and body
• May I now live with ease and joy

The Loving-Kindness Meditation is an ancient tradition that goes back thousands of years. Although the phrases may differ from culture to culture, the basic principle is to alleviate suffering. Please use the positive Loving-Kindness phrases above for the next 14 days along with the Butterfly Hug for five consecutive minutes each day.

If you have trouble remembering the words, please print them on a card to look at during you initial repetitions until you know them by heart.

Should you find yourself becoming drowsy, please stand up to do the practice until the five minutes have transpired.

That’s it!

I would love to know what your experience with this easy and, in my view, powerful exercise is. Think about taking five minutes a day to try it for two weeks and if you do, let me know what your experience with it is. What have you got to lose?

Wishing you a week of increasing contentment and peace.

Warmly,
Susan

^{Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay}

“It’s just going to be that kind of day,” my friend said as he got in my car. “Everything’s gone wrong.” He started on a litany of all the bothersome things that had happened since he got out of bed.

“Well,” I said, “I’m glad you got all that out of the way! Used up all your bad luck first thing. Now you can let it go and have a fine rest-of-the-day.” And he did. But if I hadn’t steered him to look at the possibility of a good day ahead, he might have gone on and on about his little clashes and misadventures.

Painful events produce mental movies of what happened, replays of the situation. They’re daydreams our minds create to help us realize that it was true, that it really happened and that it hurt. That’s a pretty common response to pain. It’s the first step toward accepting things, to getting to the point where we can say, however reluctantly, “It is what it is.”

The next step is figure out what you need to do next. What are some of your options? What’s most urgent? What direction do you want to go? You might still feel the raw pain, but it, too, is what it is—an injury of some kind, and injuries take time to heal. You let it sit there, acknowledging it, but accepting it as a part of your current experience. In the meantime, take a survey of your resources and start moving in the direction that your better self most wants to go, the one that makes the most sense.

But first, you’re in that place where you’re remembering what happened, trying to get a grasp on it and somehow make it different. There’s a trap here, though. If you play the movie over and over and over, you can get stuck in it. You can get so stuck that it becomes the focus of your reality. That’s when our daydreams become living nightmares.

Remember the phrase, “What you focus on expands?” It applies full force here. Your mind will always search for information to bring you when it knows you’re interested in something. If you’re looking at nothing but your mental movie about the hurtful thing that happened, your mind will bring you more and more ways that you were hurt like this in the past or might be hurt in similar ways in the future. That generates fear, anxiety, and avoidance strategies–none of which are helpful. In fact, your fear makes your brain think that looking out for danger is now a priority matter. It will point out all the signals it can find that you might be risking another blow. And there you are, stuck in the nightmare.

Now here’s the good news. You are the one who’s in charge of what’s playing in the theater of your mind. You’re running the projector that beams the movie onto the screen of your mind. If you can see that this movie has played over and over, you can look for a different movie to play. That lets you break the nightmare’s spell.

You might not be able to switch movies instantly. The nightmare one has dug itself into the screen of your attention and its drama has you hooked. But you can interrupt it as often as want by asking yourself a simple question like “What’s good about her/him/this mess?” or “What’s good about this present moment?” Questions like that take your brain by surprise. “A new game!” it says, happy to have a new assignment. And it will start looking for answers to your question. Robert Maurer, Ph.D,,says in his book One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way, that you can start by asking your little question at leaset once a day, and keep it up every day for a couple weeks. Link asking it to brushing your teeth or drinking your morning coffee, or when you go to bed. You could also jot down the answers you get if you’re so inclined.

Gradually, looking for the good will become a habit, quieting and eventually replacing your nightmare. Your world will expand and brighten, your moods will shift to the enjoyable end of the scale. And it starts by asking a simple question: “What’s good here?”

Remember, what you focus on expands. Focus on asking yourself one little question at least once a day about what’s good, and see how the goodness grows.

Wishing you a week of surprising smiles.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

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}

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}

I really don’t know what’s going on here, on this planet, as much as I collect other’s observations and reports. But everybody feels it: There’s a whole lot of shakin’ goin’ on!

Some folks tell me it’s the great sorting of the wheat from the chaff, a taking-out-the-garbage sort of action. And when it’s done, we’ll all be living in a cleaner, clearer, more peaceful world. Every story I’ve heard on this theme tells it in a different way, with different names for the heroes and common folk, their devils and gods. But the moral seems the same in all of them. “Keep going. There’s a wonderfully happy ending.” I consider that a message of hope.

In the meantime, here we are in the shaking, trying to live our lives with as much sanity we can muster. Some of us are better at it than others. All of us have our good times and bad. It’s okay. It’s not you, it’s the shaking. Personally, when I get out of sorts—as we all do in these high-tension days—I blame it on the planets. It’s as good an excuse as any, and it puts the blame way out there in distant space, instead of on me alone.

I take time to see if I can backtrack and find what triggered my less-than-cheery mood. Where did it start? What does it feel like? Where do I feel it in my body? Does it have a shape, a weight, a motion, a color? Does it have a message for me?

I have one recurring event-reaction that I have wrestled with for years. It’s like having the same plot play out in your life with changing characters and scenery as you go along. But it’s always the same basic story. And it’s an annoying one.

The only way to put a close to it is to figure out where you came upon the first fork in the road and to recognize it when you come to it again. Because you will come to it again. Over and over, until you see that first fork, and take the opportunity to choose a different direction. Instead of reacting to the situation the way you have up until now, you choose to say yes instead of no, or no instead of yes. (And by the way, you can do that gently and with grace.) I’m still working on finding that first fork. But on the other hand, I’m learning a lot of good stuff in my search.

Event-reactions are where that old axiom came from, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and expecting a different result.” And in this crazy-making world of ours, I suspect we all lapse into a less than healthy state of mind from time to time. Fortunately, we’re capable of reset. We’re remarkable beings, you know. So doggoned resilient. We keep getting up, dusting ourselves off, and going on. I admire that about us. We keep getting up.

So that’s my little story for today. If you find yourself out of sorts, blame it on the planets. And meanwhile, do your best to keep your balance, and be kind.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay