Links in the Peace Chain

One day this week when I was thinking about all the misery and conflict that ceaselessly rains down on us, suddenly a memory popped into my mind that made me explode with a huge laugh. I pictured the scene clear as day. I was with a group of friends and one of them asked Henry what he would say to people if he was king of the world.

He thought for a moment, got a ferocious look on his face, puffed himself up, took in a giant breath, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “STOP IT!”

I think we could use a King Henry today! We’ve all had about enough of this fear-filled, monotonous, rancorous routine.

Later, I ran across a much softer and more gentle piece of advice for affording ourselves relief from the oppressiveness of the times. It was an article on practicing loving-kindness meditation.

As I contemplated it, I thought about the idea that our realities, both personal and universal, rise from our thoughts. How we think about ourselves, the people in our lives and all the others in the world determines how we’ll behave toward them, how we’ll see them, how we’ll react to what they do. Collectively, our thoughts shape the world.

Mark Twain thought about this, too. Once he wondered, “What would happen if all the people in the world laughed at the same time?” Think about a time when laughter spread in sudden contagion through a room you were in. Nobody knew what so funny, but they couldn’t help but laugh because, well, it was just so hilarious to see everybody unable to stop.

I thought about the hundred monkeys story, where one day a monkey on an island starting washing his food in the sea before he ate it. The other monkeys copied him, and when the hundredth monkey joined it, the practice suddenly erupted on a far-away island, too.

What if practicing loving-kindness meditation worked like that? What if, by taking 10 or so minutes a day to send loving wishes to ourselves and each other, we became a link in a chain of loving-kindness that spread peace and joy all over the world?

It’s easy enough to do. I’ll show you in a minute. But first, here’s what loving-kindness means. It comes from a Pali word metta. Its meaning embraces the concepts of friendliness, goodwill, benevolence, fellowship, inoffensiveness and non-violence as well. In an article titled, “Metta: The Philosophy and Practice of Universal Love,” Acharya Buddharakkhita says, “True metta is devoid of self-interest. It evokes within a warm-hearted feeling of fellowship, sympathy and love, which grows boundless with practice and overcomes all social, religious, racial, political and economic barriers. Metta is indeed a universal, unselfish and all-embracing love.”

Sounds pretty powerful doesn’t it?

The process itself is simple. As with any meditation, you begin by relaxing in a comfortable position, with eyes closed, in a place where you can be undisturbed. Then, putting a gentle smile on your face, let go of any negative thought or feeling. Begin by saying to yourself,

May I be safe from danger; 
May I be healthy;
May I be happy;
May I live with ease.

Just breathe for awhile and sincerely wish yourself these blessings, repeating them until you feel satisfied.

Next practice sending your wishes for safety, health, happiness and ease to your circle of loved ones, imagining each of them one at a time and speaking your wishes to him or her directly in your mind.

The next stage is to move on to those people whom you know casually—neighbors, coworkers, acquaintances, members of your community.

And finally, you send your well-wishes to everyone, everywhere, as sincerely as you can.

In the article I read this week, the author suggested writing the words instead of silently repeating them. Writing, she said, can can instill them in our subconscious in a way that seems more effective than simply reading, hearing, or speaking them does.

Try whatever way appeals more to you.

Personally, I find the practice very soothing. It’s a way to stop the world’s madness from infiltrating your thoughts for a while. And with continued practice you’ll find your world truly does become a more peaceful, happier, friendlier place.

And who know what might happen if enough of us send wishes for well-being to ourselves and each other?

Certainly, it’s worth a try.

Warmly,
Susan

Bees at Work

I watched the bees at work.

They were focused and intent.

“Rock it, bees!” I said to them.

“That’s the way!”

The more you give of yourself,

the more you take away.

It’s kind of like loving,

hey?

The Earth Holds Peace

In quiet, hidden places, the earth holds peace.
 It pools there, in the leaves and the waters and the flowers,
and it breathes, waiting.

When a child of the earth wishes, or hopes,
or prays for comfort and relief,
the pools open and their peace floats gently to the petitioner’s heart.

And all you have to do to feel it
is to be still and breathe softly,
welcoming it and knowing that you are dearly loved.

 

Reclaiming the Light

When I first committed to being a joy-warrior, an image appeared in my mind of a glowing golden light that looked as if it was pouring through an open doorway, its light making a long, equally glowing path from where I stood to the distant doorway. Along the dark structures rose of various sizes and shapes, casting their shadows on the path. To me, it represented both the goal and the challenges I would face in reaching it.

Like many of us, I’ve been experiencing this time we find ourselves in as one of the shadowed parts of the path. And the shadow sometimes feels very dark and long. We persevere, but we get weary and discouragement nibbles away at our resolve. All the contention and anger, the disruptions, suffering and uncertainty take their toll.

I was standing in a pool of gloom myself today when I ran across a quote from Dalai Lama XIV that somebody posted on Twitter. “ Choose to be optimistic,” he said. “It feels better.”

“Oh!” some little voice in my head responded. “That’s right!” Feeling better was exactly what I wanted. I was getting pretty tired of gloom. And what a poke his sentence was! It reminded me that optimism was a choice. Hope was mine for the choosing.

Choosing to find the good in any circumstance is one of the disciplines a joy-warrior works to master. And optimism is just that–a discipline. You need to train for it, and to practice it. Otherwise, the shadows will stop you in your tracks and eat your heart.

 I opened my joy-journal and found some notes I made the last few times I battled the shadows. The first one I found was a reminder of the reasons for adopting an optimistic view: less stress, greater self respect and integrity, better coping skills, better health, more patience, increased proactivity, more effective problem solving, enhanced peace of mind, increased gratitude and forgiveness.

Yes! That sounded good to me. I turned a few more pages and found “Tips for Reclaiming the Light.” It was a list of familiar practices that I had cast aside while stumbling in the shadows.

The first one was a little list under the heading “Mindfulness.” It started with a simple instruction. “Be Here Now. Focus on being intensely aware of what you’re sensing and feeling in the moment, without interpretation or judgment.” Under that, it said, “Pay attention to your senses. What are you seeing? Hearing? Smelling? Feeling? Tasting?”

I remembered the peace and gentle happiness I felt last Tuesday as I sat on the porch at night, listening intently, with closed eyes, to all the sounds I could hear, and how I became aware of the subtle changes in temperature. I remembered the little thrill of joy as I opened my eyes and saw the stars above me. Such a simple act, and yet what beautiful rewards!

The next line said, “Walk. Slowly. Pay attention to your posture, to the movement of your muscles and bones.” This is a good one. You can do it out in nature or, if it’s raining, right in your kitchen or living room. It breaks the chain of stories you’ve been telling yourself and conquers your racing thoughts.

The last line said, “Breathe.” You just sit down, close your eyes, take a deep breath and then pay attention as your breath flows in and out. It’s very calming and refreshing, and if you do it for a little while, bringing your attention back to your breath when you notice that thoughts have intruded, you come away from it feeling wide awake and aware.

Those were enough to get me on the right track again, out of the weight of the shadows, into the light.

But I flipped through a couple more pages anyway. “Name three things that you enjoyed today,” one said. That’s something I do every night writing them down in a gratitude journal I keep. It’s a nice way to end the day and sends you to sleep with greater peace.

 “Be your own beloved friend. Just as you are.” When I remember to do that, to accept myself, with all my warts and imperfections, the way I accept my dearly loved friends, it dissolves whatever hardness and self-blame I’ve been holding, turning them into self-compassion.

I was just going to put my journal away, grateful for the reminders, when a folded slip of paper fell out. On it, I found a beautiful observation I’d saved, authored by historian Howard Zinn. I’ll leave you with it’s wise perspective and wish you a week of light and peace.

 ““TO BE HOPEFUL in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness.

What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction.

And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.”

 Much warmth,
Susan

 

Loving You Anyway

One day, while riding in the car, my teen-age son and I were listening to the radio. Some guy was explaining that we don’t always feel warm fuzzies toward someone we love. “We like each other because,” he said. (Because she made you laugh. Because he did the dishes. You can imagine any “because” you like.) “But,” the radio guy continued, “we love each other anyway.


We love each other even when. That’s because love can embrace even those things in each other that drive us batty, or that conflict with our own cherished viewpoints or beliefs. Liking often can’t go there; it stops at the differences.

My son and I l both laughed over the radio guy’s statement: We like each other because; we love each other anyway. It delighted us, and from that day on we often said to each other, as a kind of affectionate joke, “I love you anyway.”

I thought about that this past week when I ran into a difficult situation with a friend. She was recently diagnosed with a serious medical condition and when she asked me to pick up a certain snack item for her, I said I would feel guilty doing that. I suggested that she might want to make a different choice. And later, I suggested that she see a dietician for help in changing her eating habits so her body could stay as healthy as possible as long as possible.

She told me that she knew I was trying to help, but that it was up to her to choose what she wanted to eat and what she didn’t, and she didn’t want any more of my advice on the subject.

I thanked her for telling me that, and promised that I would respect her wishes. And I will – even though in my belief system, her choices are unfortunate.

It’s not the first time I’d run across this issue. The partner of a friend of mine who is a strong advocate of alternative medicine was recently diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. Her choice of treatment options went against everything my friend believed were in her best interest.

What do you do when someone you love is, in your view, choosing to do things that may cost her life? Things that make you furious, that make you feel helpless, that, according to everything you know and believe, are deadly wrong? Do you abandon your relationship because it’s too painful to see your friend’s choices? Because she’s refusing to accept what you (of course) believe to be superior information?

Nope. You love your friend anyway. You love her enough to honor her free will to make her own choices about her own life.

That doesn’t mean you consent to enable clearly self-destructive behavior. You can draw lines and say what you are unwilling to do. Your free will counts, too. You can talk with each other about your feelings and work to find compromises. You can even do things she requests that you strongly disagree with, telling her you that your respect for her decision doesn’t mean that you condone it.

In essence, it all boils down to the Golden Rule – treating others the way you want to be treated.

Yeah, it gets difficult when you and the other hold strongly conflicting beliefs. You have to face the fact that each of you has plenty of evidence for what you believe, and that, in the end, beliefs are just that.

Whether it’s which foods to eat or not eat, or what political party to support, or what treatment to choose for a medical condition, or what God to believe in or reject – each of us must choose for ourselves. And each of us has the right to expect those who love us to accept our choices – whether they agree with them or not.

Because, in the end, it’s really true. We may like each other because, but we need to love each other anyway. As Jack Kornfield says, “Our time is too precious not to love.”

 *     *     *

Wishing you a week with plenty of liking, and loving it all anyway.

Warmly,
Susan

A Hole in the Bucket

You know the old kids’ song about Martha and Henry, don’t you? It romped into my mind today for no reason at all and ran a whole movie for me as the verses unfolded.

The song, in case you don’t know it, is a duet between Martha and Henry. I picture them as a couple of pioneer settlers,making a homestead in a rough-hewn wood cabin in the rocky, Appalachian woods.

Martha asks Henry to fetch some water. Henry says he can’t.

“There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Martha, dear Martha. ” he explains, grabbing the bucket to show it to her. See? he gestures, pointing. “There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Martha. A hole.”

Well, they have to have water, right? There’s no way around it. Martha, slightly exasperated sings back to Henry, ”Well fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,” Her hands are on her hips. Her foot is tapping the dusty ground. “Well fix it, dear Henry. Dear Henry, fix it!”

The story unfolds from there. Poor Henry holds his hands out at his side, shrugs his shoulders and says to Martha, “With what shall I fix it, dear Martha?”

She has little patience with him. She tells him to use straw.

He informs her that the straw is too long, and she tells him to cut it.

Then, he actually dares to ask “With what shall I cut it, dear Martha, dear Martha?”

She’s pretty sure his every last lick of common sense is gone. She tells him to use a knife.

“The knife is too dull,” he says.

“Well, sharpen it!” she snaps..

“With what?” he asks, smiling a bit slyly.

“With a stone!”

He gets his sharpening stone and pulls the knife blade across it. It’s not going to work.

He looks up at Martha and tells her the problem is that the rock is too dry.

Poor Martha’s patience is hanging by a very slim thread now. “Well, wet it!” she growls.

“With what shall I wet it, dear Martha, dear Martha?” he says, crossing his arms across his chest, and looking her in the eye.

“With water!” she snaps, calling him a dunce in her mind.

“In what shall I fetch it?” he asks ever so slowly.

“In the bucket!” she spits through clenched teeth.

Then he gets her.

Standing nose to nose with her, he grins, then sings, “There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Martha, dear Martha.”

And that’s where the song ends. Unless, of course, you want to sing it all over again. Some people do that.

I imagine there’s a moral to this old song somewhere. Maybe it’s advice to keep a spare bucket on hand. But I think it’s probably just to remind us that we’re all like Martha and Henry sometimes, picking at each other when things go wrong. Such is life. It’s okay.

Besides, after we leave them, Martha and Henry have a good laugh at their situation and work together to figure out workable solutions to their problem. By nightfall, they’re enjoying freshly brewed tea in front of a bonfire.

They don’t tell you that in the song. But it’s good to know.

Have yourself an excellent week, my friend! And do think about picking up a spare bucket.

Warmly,
Susan

The Elements of Joy

Once a week, three friends and I gather from our various corners of the globe for a chat. We’ve been doing this for 11 years now. Until a couple weeks ago, we talked on the phone. But now we have moved into the Zoom sphere and we meet online, where we can see each other’s faces and show each other things in our environments.

Last week, Patricia showed us the beginnings of her new wool sculpture. You build a frame with wire and wrap wool around it in layers. That’s the essence of it. But the description doesn’t begin to hint at the beauty of the finished product. This is Patricia’s third wool sculpture, and this one is a dancer. We can hardly wait to see the final result.

Anyway, Patricia was talking about her experience in working with this latest piece. She’s learning more sophisticated techniques now, so the work is just above her skill level.

“That’s the perfect place to be to slip into the flow state,” I said. It’s that state of mind you’re in when you’re focused on something intently, paying close attention because it’s just a little bit of a reach. You know you can do it, and it’s kind of exciting to try to get it just right. Then you move on to the next step, and the next one. And before you know it, two hours have slipped by, totally unnoticed. That’s the flow state. You’re doing something just to do it, for the challenge of it. You don’t think about the final result. You might let your ideas about how you want it to turn out guide you. But the result comes later. It’s the doing itself that has your attention. The result just happens as a result.

You don’t feel a lot of emotion when you’re in a flow state. But when you come out of it, you feel a boost, a realization that you’ve been in special place, that you’re invigorated and satisfied at the same time.

You can create a state of flow for yourself any time you want. Whatever you’re doing, even if it’s a routine task, see if you can do better than you’ve ever done before. Do it faster, or more efficiently, or give more attention to the tiny details of it. Pay attention to what you’re doing. Notice things about it that you never noticed before.

Flow is a big part of a key element of well-being, or “flourishing” as the positive psych guys call it. The label it “engagement.” It implies a high interest in the matter at hand, a total involvement with it.

The other elements of flourishing are positive emotions, relationships, meaning, and achievement. They weave together in unique and wonderful ways. One component may far outweigh the others in some people’s lives. Others find they have a fairly balanced mix of all five in their lives. The emphasis varies from person to person. But all of us draw on at least a couple of the components to experience the fullness of life, and we experience all five of them at one time or another.

All of us taste at least some of the positive emotions: Joy, gratitude, serenity, interest, hope, pride, amusement, inspiration, awe, love. They add to life’s zest and heighten our appreciation of its beauty.

Most of us are blessed to have worthwhile relationships in our lives, or to have had them at one time or another.   And all it takes is one to know how valuable they are.

Most of us find something that gives us a sense of meaning or purpose, even though the search can be a daunting one if you’re trying to reach for something profound. But meaning doesn’t have to be a deep, cosmic revelation. One study I read said people found meaning in little, close-to-home kinds of things, like enjoying lunch with a friend. For me, meaning is in everything that says Yes to life.

Finally, there’s accomplishment. It’s means the kind of fulfillment or satisfaction or worthy pride you feel when you did something you set out for yourself to do. Maybe it’s sticking in there until you find a job, or earn your degree, or even get out of bed in the morning because you challenged yourself to do it. Recognizing our accomplishments empowers us. It gives us a sense of “I can.”

There’s an acronym to remember the five elements of flourishing, in case you should ever want to consider them, just for the fun of it. You can do a little inventory as you go through your day and notice which of them are in play. The acronym is PERMA, made from the first letters of each element:

P – Positive Emotions

E – Engagement

R – Relationships

M – Meaning

A – Accomplishments

Which one will be adding to your life today? Hmmm?

Me? I’m going to grab my camera and get engaged in a photo-hunt. It’s one of my favorite things.

I’ll be wishing you a week where engagement grabs you, too, and catches you right up in its flow.

Warmly, Susan

Hot Spots in Our Reality Bubbles

It doesn’t take much to spot them these days. We all have them now, looking like an overhead view of a volcano’s crater, filled with fiery lava, ready to blow. Spend fifteen minutes talking with anybody. Take a peek at social media. Turn on the news and watch your own start glowing.

 I’m talking about our hot spots, those seething pools of negativity–fear, anger, outrage, anguish, and all-around general ill-will.   And to tell you the truth, I don’t know anybody who has gone unscathed. BUT I do happen to have a handy-dandy tube of salve you can borrow that instantly soothes the sting and let’s you get back to seeing the world’s beauty.

 It has a three main ingredients. The first one is Presence, an almost magical healer that pulls you into your immediate here and now, where none of your imagined horrific scenarios are actually manifesting themselves. (And even if they were, a good squirt of Presence delivers the clarity you need to deal with them.)

 Presence offers a whole list of benefits. But the one that activates the instant you apply it is its story-destroying capability. It freezes your stories right in their tracks–all your thoughts and judgments, your supposes and imaginings and dreams. Suddenly, all you have is the data your senses are bringing you–the light, color, and shape of everything that surrounds you, the textures and fragrances and sounds. Here: Try a squirt. Stop reading for a second, take a deep breath, look up, and step into your immediate world.

 See? It’s downright refreshing, isn’t it?

 The next ingredient that activates when you apply this fascinating salve is Smile-Maker. It subtly, but unavoidably, requires your lips to curl into an evolving little smile. Its effects vary from person to person For some it produce a smile that quickly expands into a grin and may even erupt into laughter. For others, only a tiny little smile may occur. But even the smallest one is capable of growing if the wearer focuses on it for a bit It’s an automatic reaction, hard-wired into your physiology.

 You can experiment with this right now. Imagine that you just placed a potent little drop of Smile-Maker on your tongue and let your lips respond. Pay attention to whatever smile happens. Feel for yourself its built-in tendency to grow.

 The third main ingredient of this soothing slave is Compassion. You may know it by the name Loving-Kindness. It targets the heart, dissolving any hardness it finds there, clearing the way for you to forgive, accept, and embrace all the beings and events that come to your attention. It imparts a sense of relatedness toward other people, a recognition that we’re all human—complex, fallible beings, just walking each other home. A true pain-killer, Compassion melts away every shred of fear or anger it touches, replacing them with a willingness to wish well-being for all others everywhere.

 Blended together in a light base of hope and liberally applied, this wondrous salve cools, relieves, and refreshes. Once more, its user is free to perceive the world’s goodness and beauty unmarred.

 Tuck a few tubes in your pocket. Hand them out whenever you see a hot spot erupting on somebody’s reality bubble. And be sure to smooth some on your own. It’s the loving thing to do.

 

Looking Differently

This week I noticed that chicory was blossoming on the roadside now. I’ve never been particularly fond of it, despite the lovely blue of its flowers. As it it were up to me to judge, I considered the flowers too sparsely spaced on its lanky stems.

Still, it was a marker of the season’s march. And now, here it was, dotting the roadside along with the Queen Anne’s lace and the wild daylilies. I should, I decided, take its picture.

 The day I chose to do it was filled with rain until well into the afternoon, and the blossoms had curled inward in a gesture of self-protection. Something about that touched me. I felt a little wave of tenderness wash over me as I hunted for one that had dared to open.

 When I found one and focused my camera’s lens on it, I discovered a design far more intriguing than I ever would have imagined. And I walked away with an appreciative smile, grateful for the revelation that looking closely brought me.

 Sometimes looking at something differently is all it takes to see in it a treasure that you never suspected was there. The key is to be open to appreciation, to holding an openness to being surprised by wonder, or compassion, or admiration, or delight.

 Appreciation for beauty or excellence is one of the character strengths I’ve been mentioning in my last few letters. This quality of appreciation is also described as a capacity for awe, that ethereal feeling that comes when you see how truly something approaches perfection, how it’s just right, exactly as it is.

 When we open yourself to being appreciative, everything–and everyone– holds potential for bringing us joy. At the very least, we begin to see how everything is working toward fulfilling its purpose, even when it currently seems to be falling far short. Even when it isn’t as we, personally, would prefer it to be.

Sometimes, as I said, it’s just a matter of looking at things differently. Instead of looking at what’s wrong or upsetting, we can open ourselves to finding what’s good, what’s right, what effort is being made. We can set aside our judgment and our preferences and look to see more of what is there. We can look closer, or from a different angle. We can consider things from a higher perspective, or from one that takes into account the context, or at where things are in terms of their development in time.

A five-year-old’s performance at a dance recital won’t hold the same kind of beauty as that of an accomplished ballerina. But appreciation for it can transform it into one of the dearest things you’ve ever seen.

The old man’s hands may be wrinkled and gnarled. But you can see in them a lifetime of work.

The rioter setting a storefront ablaze may fill us with anger, but we can stand farther off and appreciate his passion and pain and be moved to do what we can to make our nation a more just and virtuous one.

We can learn to appreciate life’s difficult and distressing times for the insights they bring about what we can do, minute by minute, to strive for more harmony, compassion, and excellence in our own lives.

Appreciation teaches us to look within as well as without, to discover what’s good and beautiful about ourselves, and to decide to share those things more fully with the world. So appreciate your kindness, your sense of humor, your discipline, your creativity, your smile. Appreciate your talents and skills, your determination, your honesty, your generosity, your thrift, your faith.

Really. Take the time to do that. Hold open a willingness to see what’s good in you. And treat yourself to appreciating the goodness and beauty and excellence that surrounds you. It’s always there. Sometimes, as the chicory taught me, it’s just a matter of looking at things differently.