GETTING AWAY FROM IT ALL

I recently felt overwhelmed.  There was just so much going on. Friends and family hurting, anxiety about the stock market, war and refugees filling the TV screen.  I just wanted to get away from it all.

And I am  not alone. Most people I know have those times when they just don’t want to deal with it all.  The world presses in and the soul can’t absorb it. Our daily skills of filtering the variety of experiences that come to us seem to have deserted us. 

But, one thing I have discovered about getting away from it all is that it isn’t as easy as just leaving home and taking a vacation.  I have discovered that “all” accompanies me. While I packed my suit case and intentionally left worry and stress in my sock drawer, they would not be denied. When I unpacked at the beach, there they were, waiting to re-enter my mind.

It was then that I realized that getting away from it all is getting out of my own mind and heart.  For you see, what I deal with is not all that stuff around me, but the “all” that presses in and threatens to suffocate my spirit is my response to all the stuff around me. And the reason I can't get away from it all is because of my love. It is my love for my family and friends that keeps me connected even when I am not there. It is my love for humanity that makes me wrestle with international issues of war and pain.

So, the issue is not my family and friends, the world and its suffering, the security and insecurity of money and life.  The issue is how I carry these in my heart. Do I cling to them and tangle with them in such a way that they posses me?  Or, is there a way to love and care for each other that allows us to hold each other lightly?

At times, I trust my ability to worry and fret and believe that the more I do that, the less problems there will be and the more likely peace will come.  But, that only exhausts me.  When I get overwhelmed, I have to trust in the power of some spirit outside myself to hold those I worry about. Some say that they have to turn it over to  God. I am not sure who holds my concern and worry, but I want to believe that it is a beneficent power who is stronger than I.

MISTAKES

I make mistakes.  I made one several years ago that I regret. I invested some money in a company. It was an upstart company with a really good idea.  I invested time trying to make the company work. I offered creative ideas for the product. I tried to network to help find potential partners.

But, the good idea died.  Not for lack of wisdom but for lack of execution. 

When I think about that experience, I know that I didn’t intend to make a mistake. I considered all the issues I could think of and decided that this was a good use of my resources of time and money. I wanted to make a good decision and I believed that I had.

The problem was, it didn’t turn out well. Factors beyond my control had more influence than I thought they would. The decision to publish a product just as the digital world was emerging to forever change the world of information sharing turned out to not be a good decision.

Most people I know don’t make mistakes intentionally.  Most people I know try to take into account the multiple factors that are at play in any situation and then decide to do what they think is best. Most of the time the decisions are not clear cut. Many times the choices aren’t between good and bad, but between better and worse or between good and good.

So, as I reflect on my mistake on my investment, I discover grace inside myself for myself. I would like to undo some things and re-do some things.  I cannot.  But, I know that I tried to not make the mistake that the decision turned out to be.

And if I can find grace for myself, maybe I can have grace for others who made mistakes. At least I can consider that they didn’t intentionally decide to do something that didn’t work out as well as they had hoped.

ONE SQUARE INCH

I was hiking down the road--naked winter trees on one side, green pine on the other. The wind whispered through the pine needles. It stopped blowing and silence descended. My mind began to wonder about book someone gave me several years ago. "One Square Inch of Silence: One Man’s Search for Natural Silence in a Noisy World" is one man's journey to discover places in the United States where there is no sounds that are not made by nature. Gordon Hempton, a sound recording specialist who lives near Olympic National Park travels from Washington State to Washington DC measuring the amount of noise created by human machines.  He believed that if he could find just one square inch of silence, it could grow to permeate a larger area the way noise spreads to swallow silence.

Fascinated as I was by the book, today I was thinking about how to find a square inch of silence in my own mind. Sometimes the noise gets out of hand. The voices of friends and family, of culture and media, of magazines and blogs swirls around in my head, sometimes chasing each other in circles. I just want to slow it down, to notice something that might sedate the sometimes cacophonous noise.

Today I found a couple of places where I discovered the demands of the voices was lost in silent wonder. The first was sitting early in the morning doing centering prayer. During the past 20 years I have taken time each day to quiet the noise by placing a stillness  in the midst of my mind. It is a discipline because the wordy world has a way of turning up the volume. But, patiently I keep creating a "nothing" space and resting a moment at a time in the square inch of silence.  I do this with the hope that that inch will grow and come to visit me in the mind's noise throughout the day so that from time to time, it's quiet enough to hear my soul sing.

And the other place it happened was as I walked through the park, I kept coming upon clusters of deer. I would round a bend and there seven deer were grazing.  I stopped to stare, transfixed in awe as they stared back. Then I would start walking again, the noise in my mind beginning again and suddenly off in a clearing were four deer staring at me.  My mind quieted in the sheer delight of the surprising life around me.  I saw thirty deer on that hike.

Most of the time my mind chases ideas and thoughts.  But I continue to seek one square inch of silence hoping that it will help modulate the volume and I can also hear my quiet thoughts.

SELF-INJURY

Sometimes it takes a while to figure out how to live in a painful situation.  Katrina Kenison had a groin injury. She was a daily runner and when this happened to her, she could not run. It not only effected her physical health, but her emotional and psychological health. She taught yoga but the injury kept her from sitting positions that helped her center and know the peace she desired. She hurt whenever she did little things like dressing herself or getting in and out of her car.

Then one day when she went out to try to walk, she stopped.  She tightened up in anger when the pain came, but then she stopped herself and said, "soften, soften, soften." And then taking very small steps very slowly, she began to relax.  Her muscles eased some.  She said,  For weeks, I realized, I’d been angry.  Perhaps moving forward really meant moving beyond that impotent, helpless anger and surrendering instead to everything I couldn’t fix or control.  I’d been annoyed at my body for letting me down; why not be grateful to it for still holding me up? I’d been disappointed by my failure to cope with grace; why not acknowledge that I’d done the best I could? I’d been secretly disgusted at myself for not being invincible; why not yield at last to my own tender humanness?

I can identify with this experience. When I am ill or injured, I am not much fun to be around.  I get angry at my limitations. I get angry at myself for not being able to resist the illness. After reading this blog, I realize that my anger probably doesn't do much to expedite healing.  In fact, it may lock pain in place and not allow the healing flow of grace to move through by body.

Katrina has learned through this experience that she does better when she allows her anger to dissolve in a pool of gratitude. She has been made aware that she will not always be able to do what she wants but is grateful that her body holds her up now. 

Gratitude isn't necessarily a feeling.  Sometimes it is a decision. Sometimes it is looking not at the injury or the limitation, but at all the things that we can still do and being thankful.

To read Katrina's blog, copy this link and put in your browser:  http://www.katrinakenison.com/2014/02/27/coping-injury/

A RED CHECKERED BLANKET

It is a haunting image. The moment, captured by Kristina Guerra (Indianapolis Star, Monday, February 24, 2014) reveals a little 7 year old girl kneeling on the ground, wrapped in a red checkered blanket, being consoled by her mother.

The little girl's friend had died last night in a house fire that claimed all 6 members of her family. Surrounded by stuffed toys at the make-shift memorial, little Jade wept on the ground, embraced by a red checkered blanket and the loving arms of her Mommy.

When life seems to fall apart, when the people who seem to make your life normal are not there, it matters that you touch the ground. This image embodies some of those things that help ground us when we feel scattered and in chaos.

There is the winter ground--the base on which our life is built. We are sustained by the earth. Some people love to garden--to kneel down and get their hands in the dirt. Some like to hike--putting their boots on the hard soil of stability. Some like to lie back on the hillside and create characters out of the clouds in the sky. Some kneel on the ground in prayer. 

In the image there is a warm wool blanket secured by the warm arms of a mother's hug. When we hurt, we seek out someone who can simply hold us while we work through our pain. Companions on the journey of grief are vitally important. There are certainly times we need to be alone in the company of our own thoughts, but there are other times when the wrapping presence of strong friendships help hold us.

And the stuffed animals anchor the photo.  There on the ground, representing the comfort of the familiar are teddy bears and candles. When things seem to be coming apart, the presence of those things that comfort our soul are important. They may be symbols of love we have received from those who are no longer with us. They may be stories of life that has been lived. They may be symbols of a religious tradition that grounds our chaotic, wandering mind in a larger family of faith.

All these are captured in this powerful image--reminders that we are not alone.  While we may not have answers to why, we can have the presence of others with whom to wait till we have the strength to get up off the ground.  And when you think about it, that is quite a lot.