REST #12

A morning of reflecting on how I have changed in a week...

what I and others have accomplished...

the changes in the world...

the words of Jeff Foster, Twyla Hansen, Parker Palmer, Emma Gonzalez...

this Sunday, this extraordinarily ordinary day.

Rhythm and rising, an

Elevation of the soul, spirit, heart like

Stars bursting forth in a dark night

Tuned in to the urgent love needed today.

REST #11

Today's inspiration: James Wright's poem "Time Left Alone"

Where the hand's grasp

opens in surprise and fear

to find itself full, and the face

that opens at last can

see itself new,

full in the depth of the sea.

Resting in time as it is, revolving

Evolving, bringing us to the next

Step, the place we will enter and know

Trust in the silent whisperings of the heart.

REST #10

Jeff Foster's book The Way of Rest: Finding the Courage to Hold Everything in Love has brought me back to the word REST, a word I worked with last June, and now feel inspired to continue.

Reminding me of the way we must be

Embracing the imperfect ordinary

Sitting with darkness and brokenness

Trusting in the Light shining from within.

My Solo Trip to Costco aka Thank God I'm not on that steroid anymore

It was a simple plan. We'd go to Costco on Tuesday, since I was on spring break, and so we didn't have to deal with the weekend crowds.

Afternoon came, and I wasn't being very productive, having been up late at a Jason Mraz concert (he puts on l-o-n-g performances), and I decided to stick to the plan to get the job done.  My husband Jim, however, was not feeling up to the trip.

"We don't need that much.  I'll go by myself," I told him.

And I left, glad that I pushed myself to get it done, happy that I could park in the little off-the-beaten-path parking area where Jim refuses to park.  Happy while I shopped in a quiet store, picking up a roaster chicken first, helping an elderly woman in a riding shopping cart find the Nova Salmon (no one at the store even knew they had it, but I found it), discovering the Sanders Salted Dark Caramel chocolates I love, securing everything we needed in no time at all, and even having time to peruse the book table and pick up a highly regarded novel, The God of Small Things, for $9.99.

I went to my Hyundai Tucson, in the quiet parking area, and opened the back end.  I then took the chicken and set it on the floor of the front seat. I plopped my purse on the seat (as I usually do after shopping trips), and closed the door.

When I started to unload the items, I realized I needed the canvas bags from the back seat to store the items for easier carrying up the stairs when I got home.  I went to open the back door, but it was locked. I tried the front doors. They were all locked.

Now, I have a smart car that isn't supposed to lock when the key (which was in my purse) is in the car.  I am not 100% sure what went wrong.  I suppose since the back end was open, it didn't register.

I felt my blood pressure shoot up as I panicked for a moment, and then immediately calmed myself down.  Stop. Breathe. You will figure this out.

My first thought was to put one of the back seats down so I could crawl in and get the door unlocked.  But, no luck.  Couldn't figure out how to get it to recline.  I thought of my chocolate caramels melting in the shopping cart in the sun as I breathed slowly and thought of what my next move should be.  I crawled in the back end and reached over the back seat, a tight squeeze -- someone decided it was nice to put in three head rests, so there wasn't a lot of room.  Well, I suppose for safety reasons there is no way to unlock doors from the back seats.  That was a losing idea.

I crawled back out, looked at my refrigerated food, realized there wasn't a soul around, and decided the only thing to do was crawl all the way up to the front seat.  Somehow I had to get over that back seat so I could reach the door locks in the front. This is where I am grateful I am no longer the weight I was last year at this time when I was on a steroid.  With that extra 25 pounds, I surely would have gotten stuck between the ceiling and the car seat.

But I made it, even though (as my grandmother once incorrectly stated)  "I'm no chicken, ya know." I got the car unlocked, the groceries loaded, and pressed the button to close the back end.

It kept popping back open.

I looked and none of the grocery items were blocking it.  I tried three times, beginning to picture myself trying to drive home with the back end open.  Then I realized in my efforts to get over the seat, I had pushed the rubber mat just enough to be in the way of the back end door.  Problem solved.

I got in the car, took a long sip of water, called Jim, told him the story, and laughed and laughed.

Arriving home, we laughed some more.  My belly feels like it might be a little bruised from being dragged over the middle headrest, a device that could have been easily removed if I had the presence of mind to realize that. 

I poured some wine and came right in to share this story.  For me it was another lesson in being able calm myself in a moment of panic, and to laugh at myself afterward. I have no idea if anyone saw this 62-year-old woman dive-bombing over a backseat like a kid in a 1960's station wagon, but no matter.  I have a story to tell. 

And a delicious chicken for dinner.

A Reminder

Inspired by the poem "Fresh Wind in Venice" by James Wright.

This poem

took me

to spring

in my

Cleveland childhood

where we

would watch

for signs, 

the daffodils,

then the

tulips blooming

in the 

 beds around

the front

window, and

we could

walk to

the park 

and break

off pussy

willows from

a tree

whose branches

bent over

the fence,

making it

public property

in our

view. And

those willows

would be

put in 

a vase

on our

kitchen table

and last

a long 

time. Fuzzy

and soft,

a reminder

that harsh

winters don't

last.

hms 6:33 a.m.

Where the Water Flows In

On Saturday mornings I've been making my way through David Whyte's collection of poems entitled Where the Rivers Meet.  Today it was a poem called "The Sea," about how the sea accepts all the water that flows its way, and that we must do the same in our lives and work.

My favorite stanza was this one:

Easy to forget

how the great receiving depth

untamed by what we need

needs only what will flow its way.

The idea of accepting everything that flows our way is a principle of living that I keep discovering on deeper and deeper levels.  I am seeing that there is a great more "receiving depth" inside me than I ever knew was possible.

My recent hospital visit and struggle to start feeling well again brought this to the forefront in a visceral way.  I could not ignore the anxiety I was feeling any more.  At first I thought, oh, it was just a virus.  But soon it was evident that anxiety was the culprit.

Rita, one of my creative writing students wrote a poem about anxiety. She is a sixth grader. Her entire poem was just a question written in different ways over and over -- Anxiety. What is it?  In her young world she experiences this thing that baffles her, and she can't even find words.

I'm finding deep truth in her question these days. For more years than I care to remember, I've been studying and trying to apply the principle of "live in the moment" to my life.  It was not until this past week I truly felt what that meant when it is required daily, not just considered and forgotten.

If anxiety was the cause of my recent health struggle, than being aware of anxiety moment by moment has to be the answer.  So I found myself all day, every day, monitoring my emotions and feelings, my responses and reactions.  One afternoon I forgot and lost my way, and boy did I suffer, along with my students and the paraprofessional working in my room.  I was "out of body." I was in anxiety -- trapped.

As Rita wrote in her poem:  What is this?  It feels so destructive.  How to escape?

Two years ago at this time I was suffering from shingles, still about the worst pain I have ever felt.  I discovered that it was caused by long buried anger and disconnection from spirit.  I swore it wouldn't happen again. I work hard to stay connected and to monitor my anger.

But I wasn't watching for anxiety.

***
To fully release anxiety, I must go with the flow of things, and allow that I will receive what I need.  This flow became evident this week when I decided enough was enough with test prep programs and higher level questioning being the be-all and end-all of education.  I decided it was time for a small project.  Just a slideshow about their own personal hero.  I was ready to introduce the project with a slideshow of my own, but they didn't need it. The joy SPIKED in the class when they saw the project listed on the Google Classroom.  It was like a switch flipped.  I didn't hear what I've grown used to hearing: I can't think of anything. What should I do?  Do I have to do it?

Instead it was Can I download a photo of my hero from my phone? There were no questions -- just excitement and involvement.  I just sat back and enjoyed.  Well, except for telling a couple students they couldn't use characters from Sesame Street -- they needed a real person. :-)

This was the project that my colleague said she didn't have time for because it was "extra."

Once again, I see this IS the work.

Do I relearn this every year?  Yes.  Did anxiety bring me here?  Somewhat.  But the main thing is that I have come to know and understand that all of everything is in the moment.  The moment I choose to use a creative idea instead of a stale one. The moment I smile rather than frown.  The moment I walk away from what doesn't serve, and pursue nourishment. 

The moment I let the flow in.

These are the lessons that are here now, in the moment, for me. 

I may not really know what anxiety is, but I do know it comes with something to instruct.  I just need to listen and receive.  I have the will and capacity.

Now I just need to remember.