Sunday Letters – Page 18 – Notes from the Woods

The Rent We Pay

I’d given up on finding the small volume of Kenneth Patchen’s drawings after searching through my bookshelves several times. But then, of course, by accident, I finally ran across it. I was looking for it because something Patchen scribbled in one of his paintings describes perfectly the way so many of us are feeling these days.

His paintings look like something you might have taped to your refrigerator door, a masterpiece by your favorite five year old of some imaginary creature painted with wide brush in simple, bright colors.

The particular one I was looking for is a painting of a big, round-eyed ,smiling face on a body that looks, oh, maybe a little like a bear or a dog. “The World’s Not Enough Really,” it says in an upright cursive scrawl, “For the Kind of Rent We Have Have to Pay to Live in Us.”

Isn’t that the truth! Sometimes the price for living in us seems excruciatingly high, and the world itself not enough compensation for our suffering. Especially this world. Especially now.

Yeah. Sometimes the rent seems awfully high.

But let me tell you the title of the little book that holds Patchen’s paintings. It’s called Hallelujah Anyway. It’s full of whimsy and bitterness and a profound kind of love. Take these lines, for instance, from another one of the book’s paintings: “Inside the flower, there is room for every sower, whether he be stark monstrous mad as all your ‘Leaders’ are or only some poor innocently crazy one who in his uncontrollable fear would deface and topple every last shrine and tower that are in anyway at all still meaningful to mankind.”

The copyright on the book is 1960, by the way–in case you thought he was describing our current reality.

But look at how that last proclamation begins: “Inside the flower, there is room for every sower.” Even, he says, for those who are monstrous and those filled with destructive fear. I don’t know about you, but personally I find that a deeply insightful and compassionate view.

I have another small volume of Patchen’s, too, a collection of his exquisite love poems. The world may not have been enough compensation for his suffering, but the love he felt for his Miriam was more than enough and let him embrace the world, despite its horrors.

“Any person who loves another person,
wherever in the world, is with us in this room–
Even though there are battlefields.”

That’s the ultimate answer, you know: Love. The saving grace of Love. Even if it’s for someone you have never met. Even it it extends no farther than your doorway. Even if it’s no more than a barely glowing ember in the center of your heart.

Let yourself sit in its light, however dim that light may seem. Let it bathe you with its reality until you feel its freeing power, until you can look upon the sorry places of the world and shout “Hallelujah!” anyway.

Warmly,
Susan

^{Image by AD_Images from Pixabay}

A Love Story, and Cookies

I was looking through some old files the other day and came across the following story that I first published seven years ago for Valentine’s Day. I thought it would be fun to send it to you today, with my affection and thanks for the way you make my heart smile . . .

A Love Story, and Cookies

I’ve built a Goldilocks Room for us today. Not too hot, not too cold, no rain, sleet, wind or snow. Just perfect temperatures and gentle breezes all the way around. Come in, and help yourself to the feel-good cookies and well-being tea over there on the table. As you can see, they both come in an assortment of your very favorite flavors. Have all you want. There’s an endless supply.

And while you enjoy your treats, let me tell you a little story. It’s a love story, actually, in honor of of Valentine’s Day. Like you, I’m a romantic at heart. I get all gooey inside when True Love triumphs over all the uncertainties that life hurls in its way.

Those uncertainties are growing exponentially these days. When I was a little girl, the telling of love stories was a simple matter. Every story was a variation of boy-meets-girl, they fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after. The end.

Now it could be boy meets boy, or boy-turned-girl meets boy, or girl-turned-boy meets boy, or, according to the latest gender classifications, any of 50-some variations. In the near future, I’m told, it may even be human-of-any-gender meets tender-hearted robot, programmed with the highest levels of emotional intelligence.

Those who wrote love stories in the last century didn’t have to worry about what pronouns to use, whether “he and “him” or “she and “her” would offend. Now you have to wonder whether a sensitive robot would be hurt if you called it, well, “it.”

But so be it. Love, I suppose, shouldn’t be roped in by arbitrary barriers. It should be free to any and every heart, because life is tough, and we all need all the love we can get.

So, in our story, A meets B and they fall madly in love. They laugh and walk together. They like the same kinds of meals and fun. They talk into the wee hours of the night, amazed at how similarly they look at life, how much they have in common. They love holding each other’s hands, and when they kiss, the world melts away. They envision shared tomorrows that stretch on and on across the years, and after a while, they pledge their hearts to one another with solemn promises to see things through together, come what may.

So far, it could be anybody’s story. But this one has another happy twist, because these two found the key that kept their promises strong and saw them through the rough spots, come what may. They learned the Secret of Appreciation, of looking for things to respect and admire in one another, and they told each other what wonderful little things they saw in each other day after day after day.

And so each became to the other a treasure, a source of endless beauty and joy. They saw each other’s strengths and sweetnesses, they saw the little habits and gestures and expressions that made their partner unique. And every day they would say to each other, “You know what I like about you?” And the years unfolded, filled with their friendship and kindness and love. And they lived happily ever after until the end of days, and their love made the world a happier, better place.

The end.

Now you know the Secret, too. And it works for every kind of relationship there is—for lovers, for friends, for bosses and their employees, for coworkers, for parents and kids, for you and the clerk at the grocery store or the stranger on the street. Notice, appreciate, and say so, and make the world a happier place.

Wishing you love,
Susan

^{Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay}

Name that Tune

Did you ever watch the TV show “Name that Tune?” It was popular decades ago, and its revival is now, I’ve discovered, on YouTube. It’s a game show where the contestant’s challenge is to name a song’s title after hearing only a few bars of it played.

I thought of it today when I got infected with an ear worm. Ear worms aren’t the kind of worms that you find crawling through your grass or on the sidewalk after a rain. In fact, they’re not worms at all. They’re the name of the phenomenon where you get a song or a few phrases of a song repeating in your head over and over.

Luckily, when I noticed what was happening, I remembered the trick for stopping it. There’s a couple of them, but what works best for me iis getting busy at a task that requires a little bit of concentration. The next best is repeating a single syllable over and over to interrupt the circuitry.

Later, when I realize my action had worked, I got to thinking about how ear worms are kind of like the stories we play in our heads, repeating them over and over. Like songs, our “story-worms” have an emotional component. Suppose you’re upset by something that’s happened in your life.

You keep playing its song over and over, as if it would somehow change if you focused on it enough. You start to look for supporting evidence of why you’re right to feel the way you do. And sure enough, examples come to you, and your song has even more layers and depth.

That’s how story-worms work. And here’s how to short-circuit them.

First, you have to “name that tune.” You have to recognize that a story-worm is playing in your brain. Maybe its song is a sad one about loss or limitation. Maybe it’s one that thunders with anger, or buzzes with irritation. Call it out. Notice it. If you can, name the emotion. If you can’t find its name, figure out where you feel it in your body. Does it have a color? A texture? A weight? See it for what it is–a feeling about the song that you’re repeating in your mind. Then decide to interrupt it.

You can use the same techniques that work for ear worms. Get busy with something that requires a some attention. Set an intention: When I finish this, I will be free to see the world in a whole new light. Then do something. Do a crossword puzzle, draw a picture, do some math, or get physical and see how many push-ups or jumping jacks you can do. Be inventive. Press your thumbs against each finger on your hands one at a time while you count to one hundred with each tap–and smile as you do it.

If you’re not up to any of those, try saying “blah-blah-blah-blah-blah” to yourself over and over whenever the story-worm starts crawling through your mind.

Even if you believe your story is important and true, hearing it play endlessly is a real drag. It wastes your time and energy. It keeps you from hearing the songs of love, and trust, and faith, and possibilities that are just waiting to be heard. It’s just a matter of naming the tune and then turning your dial to a different station.

Wishing you endless beautiful melodies,

Warmly,
Susan

^{Image by Harut Movsisyan from Pixabay}

Who’s Directing this Show?

“Never doubt the reality of your own inner greatness,” I heard a guy on the radio say. Nothing inside me felt especially great at the moment and I caught myself kind of rolling my eyes at the statement.

But then I thought about it a bit. First of all, I asked myself why did I automatically respond to the statement the way I did, with such a smirk on my face.

Because, I explained to myself, it’s sounds hokey, like something some slick motivational speaker in a thousand-dollar suit would say. “Well,” I said back to myself, does that make it untrue?” Ah. That was the key question. Do we possess inner greatness or not?

I had to admit to myself that of course we do. It’s just a little scary to admit it. You might have to live up to the idea of being great if you believed it was true. And besides, wouldn’t thinking you were great make you awfully prideful and pompous? Not really, the other side of me said; not if you were genuinely great.

“Hm,” I said. “Well then, what is it about us that gives us our inner greatness?”

And the other half of me said quietly, “Your ability to make your own choices, to decide who you want to be. What role will you play today? Victim or Victor? Enslaved or Free? What demeanor will you wear? One of fear or one of love?”

That was, I decided, a pretty good answer, and I thought about it a little more. I saw how the roles we play aren’t who we truly are; they’re the outward expressions of our choices.

We ourselves are the ones who choose which roles we’ll play today, and how, here on the world’s stage. Our true self is above the roles, the director of the show. Everybody is the director of his or her own show, choosing how to play each role.

Personally, I believe there’s a director above me, too, a higher voice with whom I may consult. I imagine there’s another director above that one, too, and more above that, stretching into infinity, each one offering guidance to the one below, until, multiple dimensions later, you arrive at the Ultimate Director, who guides all the rest–every actor that’s ever appeared on the stage, or ever will. And not only in this world, but in all the others, too. And the higher the director, the wiser and more loving and powerful and pure. So we can’t even begin to imagine how magnificent the Ultimate One must be. It’s an amazing picture. But that’s just me. I tend to think in images. I’m fine with your view, too. I’d probably find it interesting and amazing.

Anyway (as my dear friend Ruth says, singing the syllables slowly, when she’s ready to change a subject or get back to her point), the important thing is to realize that here, in this world, you get to choose who and how you will be. No matter what your circumstances.

And here’s a hint I adopted on my travels. It’s good to find a way to remind yourself that you are the director who decides how you’ll play your various roles, what mood and mindset you will express. Not necessarily the familiar one that you’ve been playing for a year or months or several hours now. You get to decide any minute, every minute: “How do I want to be now?” And you get to interpret what that means and how you will act it out. Remind yourself!

It’s a wondrous gift and responsibility to know you are in charge, that you get to choose how to play out every minute of your life. Accept it with reverence and humor. Then get out there and play it to the hilt. Because, you know, it’s up to you. Grab those directions and go!

Warmly,

Susan

^{Image by Elisa Way from Pixabay}

Finding the Flashlight

When I walk in the woods, I often follow the trails that the animals have made. Sometimes I’ll find myself deep in the trees and vines and brush when all at once the trail just stops. I have no idea how that happens. It’s a bit of a startling feeling. The trail was showing me where to go, and now it’s not there. It’s up to me to figure out where I am and which way I want to head.

I have had the same experience following a detour when driving. You’re paying attention, following the signs, and after a dozen turns in the route, you realize the signs have simply ceased to be.

This week has been kind of like that. I was tramping through the brush, aware of what was around me, following the signs. Then all of a sudden, the trail stopped, and I was on my own, having to figure things out for myself. Where am I? Who am I? Where do I want to go from here?

My experience told me that the first thing you have to do when you’re in a situation like that is to stop. Just stop. Then look around you, see where you are. Take stock. Who is this me that’s here in this spot? What was her intention?

You already know who and where you are, of course. But when you’re casting your attention outside of yourself, or on inner dreams, sometimes your intention gets lost. The trail’s sudden end wakes you up so you can remember. Oh yes. I am here. And this is what I want to do. I’ll start by heading in that direction.

I woke up this morning feeling as if I had lost the trail. I was disoriented for some reason, confused. So I asked my questions. Where am I? Who am I? What do I want to do?

It was one of those days when I could stay in bed and think about it for a little while. So instead of thinking that I was one of the roles I play, and that she had better get going, I enjoyed the leisure and asked myself which role I wanted to be, which was the primary one, the basic one on which all the others floated.

It took a while for me to decide. I had to dig through a few layers of possibilities to get there. Then finally the answer softly whispered in my mind. “You are a Flexitarian Harmonizer, Susan, currently serving in the Order of Joy Warriors.” It’s an imaginary Order. I made it up. But I promised myself that I would adapt its mantel and learn what there was to be learned.

It hasn’t been easy going. This world we share tests each of us to our limits. The trick is to be sure, as you travel life’s road, that you have always have a flashlight in your pocket with a built-in compass. Mine has the words “Joy Warrior” engraved on it. You alone can read the engraving on yours. (You might have to dig through some crusted-on old stories to read it; but it’s there. And even if you can’t read its name, in your heart you know what it means.)

So, after I remembered my promise to be a Joy Warrior, I asked myself exactly what a Joy Warrior is. Again, the answer whispered. “To be a Joy Warrior is to relentlessly battle against all that stands between you and the full realization that you are one with the Source of Joy, which lives within you.”

At first, I was warmed and inspired by the thought. Then I burst out in laughter. “Well, so far, there’s been no shortage of battles!” I shouted to the whisper. But each one, I realized, brought lessons, and learning, and deeper understanding. And those were treasures I could have acquired in no other way.

Once I’d found my flashlight, I knew it didn’t really matter what I would do in the day ahead. I could step into it with gratitude that I had hours ahead of challenge and rest and play. I tucked that little flashlight into my pocket and went on with my day.

Thinking about you as I write this, I smile. I wish you a light-filled week ahead.

Warmly,
Susan

_{Photo by S. Hermann & F. Richter at Pixabay.com}

When Chaos Reigns

The world’s not an easy place to live in right now. We’re all definitely walking a rather rocky patch of road. In the dark. With a strong wind blowing. And we’re not quite sure where we are.

All of us.

That’s an important thing to remember.

Everybody has his own idea about what is going on. But we’re in epic times and only time itself will reveal what’s ahead. For some of us, the uncertainty is exhilarating. For some, it‘s scarey. For some, it’s infuriating. For others, it’s just misery and stress.

Meanwhile, life goes on, with all of its demands–and then some. And it’s making those demands on us all. On the woman in the next room, on the man next door, on the kids in the back yard and the ones across the world. We’re all being tried. We all just want the wind to stop and for the road to become smooth again. We want to pick up the damn rocks that are making our way so hard and hurl them into the night.

I read a story on social media today written by an unknown author that described our situation this way:

“If you catch 100 red fire ants as well as 100 large black ants and put them in a jar, at first, nothing will happen. However, if you violently shake the jar and dump them back on the ground, the ants will fight until they eventually kill each other.

“The thing is, the red ants think the black ants are the enemy and vice versa, when in reality, the real enemy is the person who shook the jar. This is exactly what’s happening in society today. Liberal vs. Conservative, Black vs. White, Pro-Mask vs. Anti-Mask.

“The real question we need to be asking is who’s shaking the jar . . . and why?”

As I said, everybody has his own idea about what is going on. But we’re all so shook up that it’s easy to cast blame. Remember, it’s dark out right now and we don’t know where we are. In such a time, it is wiser to bond with each other than to wrestle on these sharp rocks. Patience is our ally here, a willingness to take life one step at a time.

Old sureties may be gone, but we have this Now. And we each have the option to choose from the countless possibilities that it holds. As we choose among them, let’s do our best to remember that it wasn’t the person in our presence who’s been shaking the jar. This person, the one before us, is also walking on the rocks.

“This is suffering,” Tara Brach says. “Everybody suffers. May I be kind.” Tuck that little light in your pocket to help you along the way.

Remember to be kind to yourself as well. Remember to ask yourself who, in this moment, you truly want to be. Let yourself wear a small smile; it will bring you comfort and healing. Then square your shoulders and carry on.

There is, after all, an end to night. Dawn is just a bit away, and then we will see more clearly.

Until then, be patient, and be kind.

Warmly

Susan

While Waiting for Springtime

I was walking across a familiar section of the park, looking at the frosty ground, when the thought came to me that violets and spring beauties were sleeping there. I will not despair, I said to myself.

The mere thought of spring, with its wild-flower covered grasses, lifted me above the moment’s turmoil and darkness. Life renews itself.

It’s easy to get lost life’s troubles. They’re like a quicksand that pulls us in until all we can see is an endless landscape of confusion, misery and suffering. Thought narrows when we’re stuck in our fears, apprehensions and pain. It’s designed to work that way, allowing us to focus on the details so we can puzzle our way out.

But it’s good to remember that while pain is inescapable, suffering is not. Even while in the pain’s grip, we are free to see beyond it. We can direct our attention elsewhere. We can call forth golden memories; we can plan, and imagine, and dream. And when we do, light comes, and our consciousness expands and is free.

We create the world we live in. We may not create its events, but we choose how we will respond to them, and how we will shape them in our minds. When we find ourselves in troubling circumstances, or when events occur that shock or repel us, it’s wise to ask ourselves, “Who do I want to be in the face of this?”

Ask that, and allow your higher self to whisper its answers. Then act on them. Adopt the posture they require. Act the part. Call on your wealth of capabilities.

We live in worlds of limitless possibilities. Our options are always more than we suspect, and often they’re only an idea away. Ask for answers. Allow them to come. Sometimes all it takes to trigger one is a different point of view, a change of attitude or of scenery, whether real or imagined. Sometimes all it takes is to put a smile on your face.

Even in the darkest times, you still have breath and a beating heart. And darkness always has an end. While you wait for it, decide who you will be. Decide what you can do in the midst of it, and how you would like, someday in the future, to look back on these times and the choices that you made.

Beneath the hard and frozen ground on which we walk, flowers sleep. Life renews itself. Spring will come. Imagine that! And taste its hope and joy.

Warmly,
Susan

Never Stop Believing

Never stop believing. . .
in miracles
in your hunches, intuition and dreams
in your ability to make a positive difference
in your ability to reach, and learn, and grow
in your capacity to have fun
in the power of your touch, your words, your smile
in the magic of laughter
in the generosity of others
in the power of your imagination
in your own essential goodness
in the highest, truest, most powerful, loving, and beautiful consciousness you can imagine,
and in your everlasting connection to it.

Never stop believing . . .
that you are lucky
that today is a beautiful day
that truth is power
that attitude is everything
that you are creative and inventive
that you matter
that now matters
that you matter right now
that it’s okay to be human
that you learn from every mistake
that good overcomes evil
that light overcomes the dark
that the person in the mirror is a mere reflection
that you’re free to change your mind
that you can tune in to a higher wisdom
that you are getting better all the time
that love is the answer
that blessings never cease

Never stop believing . . .

Happy New Year, Friends,
Warmly,
Susan

_{Image by sabri ismail from Pixabay}

Here It Comes!

You ready? This is it, you know. The Big Reveal, 2021, comin’ right up. Hang on!

It’s going to be glorious, they say. Biblical even.
The Bethlehem star clinched it for me.
Bring it on!

So here we are, already rolling through earthquakes and tidal waves of energy, my friends.

And this is only the beginning.
We’re just at the start of this ride,
This cosmic roller coaster, as I mentioned before.

What’s that? A voice speaks in my head:
“The kaleidoscopic, multilingual, transcendental. two-ton mustard seed,” it says in a calm, smiling tone.

That was the name of a Sunday night radio show I listened to during the Summer of Love on a station out of Berkeley. I happened to end up there, as it turned out, watching it all unfurl from atop a lighthouse in the San Francisco Bay. But that’s another story.

I liked that the words floated into my thoughts.

You know what the mustard seed represents, don’t you? Faith. The story is that you only need a tiny little speck of it in order to do miracles. I tend to think that’s true.

So imagine what a two-ton seed would do for you. Especially if it was kaleidoscopic, transcendental, and multilingual as well! You’d be invincible! Sure, two tons sounds kind of heavy to carry around, but you have to remember it’s transcendental as well, so you can just let it float above you, beaming you with its kaleidoscopic colors and multilingual tunes.

Invent your life whatever way brings you the most confidence and contentment. It’s up to you.

We’re all going to learn so much in the weeks ahead!

Be your favorite self as you step into this new unknown.

That’s the best any of us can do.

And no matter what the days ahead may hold, isn’t it beautiful that life gives us such fine companions to share the journey? I like that I get to jump into the New Year with you. You!

Let’s do it!

New Year hugs,
Susan

_{Image by Markéta Machová from Pixabay}

Why We Sing

Every day since the start of the month, I’ve been posting – right here on this site – one chapter of the story of Little Pine from the first book of my three-year series. This first volume is called The Magic of the Light’s Return. It details Little Pine’s adventures as the forest and its creatures prepare for the return of the light on the winter solstice. Today, the final chapter is posted. It may be my favorite. It’s called “Why We Sing.”

(If you click over there to read it and decide you want to read the whole story, the beginning of it is here. You can start there and follow the arrows at the end of each chapter that will take you to the next one.)

The story has had me thinking a lot about Christmas.

I don’t think only in words, by the way. Often what I call thinking is really more like going to watch the movies in my head. All kinds of genres play there. Do you do that, too?

Anyway, I was thinking about it being the Christmas season again— that ancient winter holiday, come with all its legends and myths. I was in full humbug mode about it. I get that way every year. I growl at the season’s approach. Sometimes right up to the last minute.

Here’s what I wrote about it in my journal:

Here it is, whatever we might think of it: unavoidably, inescapably Christmas. The music, the lights, the media, the catalogs and commercials. It’s painful. It’s like a slap in the face, reminding us of how it used to be–before 2020 happened–then asking us to pretend it that it never did, so now hop online and buy those presents. (Nevermind that your favorite little stores are closed.)

It’s a heavy time of year.

It’s been a heavy year.

I mean, remember what you were doing a year ago this time of year. Can you? Think about last December, before the world met the words “Covid-19.” Remember what Christmas was like just last year–when the world was still normal? When you were cruising around in a place called Ordinary? When things still made some kind of sense?

Whew! It seems a long time ago, doesn’t it? Now everything’s upside down.

Anyway, I was thinking about how hard the season, this year, will be for so many of us, even those for whom it has no tradition or meaning. It’s the winter, for all of us in the northern hemisphere, of a most extraordinary year. The year where everything changed for everyone everywhere.

Already, the first storm of the winter has blown through. And this is just the beginning.

But think about that, too: It’s just the beginning.

It always is.

So, I was thinking about Christmas and a few fragments of memory began floating through. In my mental movie, I was in a huge old attic, kneeling before a treasure box I hadn’t opened in a long, long time. Inside it were stacks and stacks of DVD’s. “At Grandma’s House.” “Stuck in the Gate.” “A Board for the Bored.” The titles spoke in my mind as I shuffled through them. I’d glance at the cover of each one and then go on to the next one.

It dawned on me that what I was watching in my movie was a picture of how I usually look at my memories. I glance at their labels, casually decide that I know each one’s whole story, having lived it, and move on.

But what if, I thought, I went beyond the labels. What if I took one of those memories out of its sleeve, put it in the slot of my mental player and pressed “Play.” So I did. And it so fun that I wanted to share it with you.

I’ll tell you more details in some other letter. (I’m already taking so much of your time!) The gist of it is this: From your stack of memories, pick one about a holiday that you enjoy. (C’mon. Play along!) What’s your first bright memory about it? Let your attention settle on it for a moment and see how many details you can discover. Where are you? Are you indoors or out? What do you see there? What do you hear? Is anyone else there? Who? What were you doing?

Wander around there, let the memories wander you, guide you, open more of the scene.

Stay as long as you like. Then maybe linger just a bit longer, to be sure that’s really all you want to see of it, of this time that lives so vividly and expansively in your memory.

These are your treasures. You lived these moments. They were real. They are a part of you and your experience. And you know what? They’re a part of you right now. They’re a part of this moment, where you decided to let yourself dig into the treasure box, just for fun, to see what you might find there.

It seems kind of awesome that those memories could be a part of this amazing once-in-a-lifetime-2020-Christmas-season, helping us pay attention to the things that matter in our lives.

That’s pretty big magic, isn’t it?

May some of its glittering light be sprinkled upon you, my dear friend. May you taste of its peace, and of its joy.

Oh, and by the way. Let me remind you that you might have wanted to find out what the little bird had to say about why we sing.

Warmly smiling, and wishing you grand discoveries,

Susan