The Most Important Thing

I was doing a little reorganizing this week and ran across some old notes about an interview I’d heard with Neale David Walsh, author of the Conversations with God series that was so popular a few years ago. He had just released a 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 Walsh identifies as “God” had to make was “You’ve got me all wrong.”

As Walsh pointed out in the interview, even if you’ve dismissed the idea of the existence of God entirely, if that sentence has even a smidgeon of truth to it, it suggests that you might want to ask yourself what you do believe about the possibility and nature of an infinitely conscious Supreme Being. (Maybe, for example, you picture God as the source of the code that makes up the matrix of existence.)

That suggestion—about questioning beliefs—reminded me of 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) concepts that had arisen in the country since 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 own personal beliefs and give our reasons for holding them.

Every now and then, I assign that essay to myself again, just to take a look at the beliefs I hold now and to examine them. You’d be surprised how interesting that can be – and fun! It’s very revealing.

But that’s not the main thought that I brought away from that Walsh interview. The idea that struck me most deeply was one Walsh shared when the host asked him what was the biggest piece of advice he could give people, based on his latest book. Walsh 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.”

Think about the implications 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 we 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 we touch and how we 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 Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Noon on the Western Slope

It’s going on noon on the first day of September
when I decide to climb the western slope of the south hill.
It smells of advancing autumn and the summer’s sea of ferns
is but froth on the shore after the waves have spent their force
and washed away. Here and there, a fallen leaf dots the ground.
And the fallen branches, gifts from the winds, are plentiful
and easy to see, now that the foliage has melted into the soil.
I will be roaming here again soon, gathering them to serve
as fuel for my winter fires. But today I am here just to see
what there is to see as the world ushers in September.

Published
Categorized as Summer 2023

Suddenly, September

Suddenly, September plunks herself down in the meadow.
She spills Queen Anne’s Lace and goldenrod everywhere.
It’s not that she was unexpected, but I had pushed her
way over there in my mind since she signals the advent
of the cold half of the year. Now here I am, knee deep
in late summer wildflowers, glad despite myself,
the child in me dancing giddily to the shrill sawing
of ten thousand crickets and handsome insects
everywhere, feasting. “It’s another whole corner of heaven!”
the dancing child shouts, and my wrinkled face smiles.

Published
Categorized as Summer 2023

The Garden’s Last Lily

As if in benediction, one last lily blossomed today,
its petals a delicate pink, its center shades of lemon
and lime, glowing with an internal light. Six stamens,
also glowing, rose from its heart bearing offerings
of gold, in thanks, I believe, for the privilege of being.
I kneel before it to peer into its face, to take in
its silent song. This is the garden’s last blossom.
Now the wildflowers will sing their autumn songs
and I will dance to their bright tunes. But here,
before this lily, I am, for a long while, silent.
And at last, all I can do is dare to stroke
its petals as I whisper my grateful farewell.

You Wanted Butterflies?

What was that? You wanted butterflies?
Let me whisper a secret: So did I.
Those wafers of color darting through
the flowers, turning happy somersaults
in the summer air, basking in the sun.
And let’s wish that each flower
is sweeter for them than the last one
and that each moment of their lives
is filled with overflowing joy.

May the Bees be Blessed

May the bees be blessed,
for they are under assault
as much as we. May flowers,
rich in sweet nectar and deep
with pollen, invite them,
laughing, and may both
the bees and flowers thrive,
and us, too, in a world where
light dances everywhere
and we dine on rich honey
and drink the gold of the sun.

Congratulations on Another Day

“Congratulations on another day!” the radio host said. I don’t think I ever heard that before, but it certainly resonated with me. I deserved congratulations for keeping my balance so well despite a spate of disruptive events in my life.

As you may have noticed, I haven’t been online for a bit of a stretch. For years now I’ve been heard to utter, “Technology is so wonderful when it works.” This was one of those times when it didn’t. I was in Internet Connection Hell. But valiant knights swarmed in to rescue me, and they were fine, determined men, knowledgeable and most courteous. Still, it took many days to get to the root of the problem.

And it wasn’t just that. My cook top and washing machine died, too, all in the span of a couple days. Meanwhile, close friends were going through difficult personal struggles, and the horrific tragedy unfolding in Maui was breaking my heart.

In the midst of all this, I began to appreciate how valuable all my joy-warrior training has been. It allowed me to keep a perspective as unexpected circumstances pushed me from my accustomed routines. We do like our habits, especially the ones that let us go through our days with some order, efficiency and grace. It annoys us when they’re disturbed.

Still, I noticed, I was surprisingly unperturbed by fairly major interruptions to the usual patterns of my life. I recognized that they were posing some significant challenges. I would have to deal with the hassle and cost of getting service, repairs and replacements. Until I got back online, much of my usual work would have to wait. 

But I simultaneously recognized that being upset would only make dealing with everything more difficult. And I saw that understanding as a great gift, one that I had given myself by “walking the talk,” by finding and exercising the practices that lead to enhanced ease and joy. Instead of letting events devastate me, or hurl me into a pity pool, a heartfelt wave of gratitude washed over me for the peace and confidence I felt as, one step at a time, I navigated the challenges.

In a world where things frequently go differently than we wish them to go, it takes practice to keep a balanced perspective. Maintaining inner peace, which is what joy is all about, is a skill as much as an art, or a personality trait, or a product of a healthy upbringing. You need to practice it, to find ways to nurture and grow it. And that’s what the joy tools I find and enjoy sharing with you are meant to do – to help us learn to operate from a center of peace regardless of what circumstances surround us.

I’m always on the lookout for ways to build my joy skills. So when the guy on the radio said, “Congratulations on another day,” and it made me grin, I wrote the sentence down and taped it to my bathroom mirror as an experiment, to see what effects it would produce. It seemed to me a fine thing to say to myself at the end of the day – or at its start, for that matter. It wasn’t about accomplishing anything, or about being a certain way. It was just about being. Period. You’re here. Conscious. Experiencing. Despite all the odds. Congratulations!

My challenges were what they were, I decided, and the rest of the world remained as my laboratory and playground. Acceptance is always such a fine first step.

Then my curiosity kicked in: What would I do with the time I couldn’t spend as I normally did?

I pulled an old set of instructions from my mind’s files that said, “When you don’t know what to do, clean or create.” I decided to start by creating a list of things I could do with this sudden appearance of free time. After all, free time is a great gift when you think about it.

I’m pleased to say that I accomplished a host of worthwhile projects, and had fun doing it. Despite it all. One night while I was wrapping up a journal entry about my responses that day to my restructured world, I found myself writing, “Life is rich.” And so it is. And we get to live it.

Carry on, my friends, and remember to look for the good, regardless. Oh, and Congratulations on another day!

Warmly,
Susan

Image by QuinceCreative from Pixabay

This Green World

I do not take this green world for granted.
It is the end of August; soon it will be gone.
But not yet. Now, here I am in the midst
of its healing, feeling it penetrate every cell
of my body, absorbing the tones of its song.
Winter will be long. May this green become
a part of me and feed me through the darkness.
May I remember, forever, the bountiousness
of this green world, this dancing peace.

What the Creek Knows

Whether flowing through patches of sunlight,
or drifting through deep summer shade,
whether gliding over rocks and stones,
or parting for the slick darting fishes
or for the paddling of thick, webbed feet,
whether tumbling from heights,
or lingering on the flatlands,
in rain, in wind, beneath starlight,
in snow, the creek has but one guideline:
How easy can I let this be?

Turning Point

Even though the cloudy sky subdued them,
the colors of the meadow caught my eye.
How subtly, I thought, the seasons change,
the Black-Eyed-Susans giving way to goldenrod,
the daisies bowing to the Queen Anne’s lace.
Already the green of the trees is beginning
to move into shades of olive here and there.
So I let this flower-strew field paint itself
into my heart, a portrait of summer
at its turning point, a reminder to cherish
each moment’s beauty, those past
and those that the moment hints will come,
and most of all, and always, this one,
before my eyes right now.