Riding Out the Storms

I was listening to this meteorologist the other day. “Earth is a dynamic planet,” he said. “Everything here is always changing. No other planet is like that.”

His statement underscores one of my personal axioms: You never know when you get up in the morning what the day will bring. And I don’t mean only the weather. Life hurls the unexpected at us all the time.

I think it does that to grow us, to teach us flexibility. When we get too comfortable we sink into a torpor. The “same old, same old” lulls us to sleep. But bring in a surprise, and we’re on full-alert. All our senses open. Our dreaminess vanishes instantly. We quickly take stock of things. We decide how we’re called to respond. Should we laugh? Or should we cry? Should we reach for our sunglasses or boots?

The bigger changes teach us not only flexibility but challenge us to accept and adapt. A friend of mine, when we went on lockdown earlier this year, said she just kept saying to herself, “This is my life now.” I thought that was a wise way to look at things. It allowed her not to fight against the changes, but to look around at what she had to work with and to make the best of it.

A book I read once about making choices for happiness called that kind ability to adapt “recasting.” The author told stories about people who found ways to keep doing the kinds of things that brought them joy even when their circumstances had drastically changed. They learned how to rearrange their lives in a way that let them continue moving toward their dreams—Maybe not the form they had previously envisioned, but in new ways that could express the essence of them nonetheless.

Our culture is in the midst of dramatic changes right now, the surprises coming like thunderbolts. We all need to put our boots on and wade through it, a day or an hour at a time. Until things settle out, we’re called on to be flexible. It’s going to be a challenging winter. We need to be willing to face uncertainty and to say, “This is my life now,” and make the best of it. When things settle—and all storms do pass—we will adapt and find ways to continue moving toward our dreams.

The key is to know what brings us joy, personally and individually, what allows us to be and do what we most want to experience being, what we most want to express. It’s a good time to decide what we most value and to let those priorities serve as our compass and guide.

While we’re in the thick of things, let’s remember that each of us is being deeply touched by the world’s events. However differently we may be impacted or how differently we view what is happening, we’re all sharing in the experience of significant change. As we strive to find balance in our own lives, let’s remember that everybody else is being challenged, too. Let’s carry some extra packets of kindness in our pockets and hand them out along the way. That’s always a good thing to have on hand, rain or shine.

Warmly, with hugs,

Susan

Winds of Change

Here in west central Pennsylvania, it’s the week when autumn’s colors peak. Scarlet and golden trees glow from the hillsides and lawns, their leaves raining down in the breeze like love letters dropped from the heavens. Roadside stands have appeared with heaps of fat pumpkins and baskets of peppers, squash, onions, and tomatoes. In the fields, giant machines harvest the soybeans and corn.

Summer has slipped into memory, leaving its bounty behind. We gather it in preparation for what is to come. And here, in this moment of transition, I stand, awed, at the beauty of it all.

A mere six months ago, the trees and fields were bare, the hillsides wearing only the green of scattered pines. Patches of snow and ice still lingered as we searched the landscape for signs of spring. And now! All this bounty!

It just goes to show you that no matter how bleak the world may seem, miracles are unfolding, just out of sight. You just have to trust that everything has its season, and all of it has its own reason, however mysterious its reasoning may be.

On my window sill I have a rock engraved with the word “Change.” It’s my little reminder that change is the only constant in our world, the only thing that’s permanent.

The key to living with maximum joy is to accept the impermanence, to learn to dance to life’s changing rhythms, to welcome change as a revelation of who you are and what you value. It lets you tap your accumulated wisdom as you make choices about how to respond to its unfolding events.

Change teaches us not to cling to things, to be willing to let go of what we’re experiencing now so that we can embrace the gifts of the next now, and the next. It teaches us to be one with the present, open to all that it holds. It shakes us out of our dreams, waking us, alerting us that a spacious reality is beckoning, full of possibilities and wonders.

Change shows us that life is always in motion. Change is the music, and life is the dance.

The seasons change. The weather changes. All things come and go.

But remember this, too. Through your choices, you have the power to influence the direction of change. You can speak. You can be silent. You can act or be still. You can give or withhold. You can love or be unkind. And each of these choices makes a difference in the way that things will go.

Even when change is beyond your influence—day will follow night regardless of what you do—you have the power to accept and be open, or to resist and be imprisoned by your resistance.

I can see autumn’s beauty and be filled with awe, or I can mourn the loss of summer or dread the winter’s approach.

When I open to its beauty, it energizes me. I am one with its scents and colors, with the dance of the flying leaves, with this wondrous moment, with the realization that I am alive in it and a part of it, with all its drama, and it is a part of me. And all is well, and the next moment will take care of itself.

Warmly,

Susan

Dreaming of Eden

“If there’s a bustle in your hedgerow, don’t be alarmed now,
It’s just a Spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There’s still time to change the road you’re on.”

~Led Zeppelin, Stairway to Heaven lyrics

Somewhere, deep in our molecular makeup, we hold a concept of a perfect world.

We have an intuition that in a dimension we can’t quite identify, everything is beautiful and pleasing, and every sentient being is entirely free of suffering and delusion and overflowing with joy. We might not believe it is a real place. But still, we love to imagine it.

And when we do imagine it, we can’t help but want that place to be here, and we ask why it couldn’t be and what would we have to do to bring it here, to transform this into that.

Some folks get to being creative, inspired by the concept of moving toward that ideal, that Paradise thing. They invent things and methods to contribute to joy and ease, to enhance and enrich life in some way.

Some folks, unfortunately, get mad that Paradise isn’t here and find other folks to blame that on, and then the whole big drama of human history unfolds. Maybe it’s matter of living on this binary holodeck called Earth, where everyone inevitably gets damaged to some extent, because there’s no such thing here as perfection.

Nevertheless, even here, you get to choose whether you’ll live in darkness or in light. It’s a moment-to-moment choice. And being a joy warrior means being aware that the choice exists, always.

The choice for joy may seem like an impossibility when you’re in a pit of despair. But you’re never irreversibly stuck. The fact that we struggle so hard to climb out of the pits into which we fall is proof of that.

Things change. That’s another feature of life on Earth. I own a little rock that has the word “Change” engraved in it sitting on my window sill. It reminds me that life is in constant flow. My task as a joy warrior is to learn to steer my thoughts and actions in a way that lets me ride the best currents I can find.

Later on in this series, I’ll talk about the enemies of joy I’ve encountered and share some of the tools I found that let me banish them, or at least to cut them down to size. For now, let me assure you that hope is always available to you, however dim and far away it may look from your current perspective.

Hold on to hope. Darkness is never complete, and it can be conquered by one little glimmer of light.