And Religious Freedom is…..?

Warning: Written after reading about, and pondering, Trump’s draft on defining religious freedom. This post is blasphemous. It may offend you. Don’t read it. I just have to write it.

Sometimes I think the human species is like a fetus: full of potential. But, if the Life that holds it decides, it can be ended.

Like spoiled children we will fight to the death over our special knowing of God and His truth. We cannot conceive of a God bigger than our own religion, our own experience; it’s too scary. We have to be right, others have to be wrong. Complexity makes us uneasy, angry even.

We’ve grown in technology, our economy has spread across oceans, our science has discovered constellations and black holes….yet, we cling to our small notion of God. He couldn’t have blessed the Christian, the Buddhist, the Hindu, and of course not the Muslim, right? And the traditions of Native Indians? Well they were primitive, and in the wrong place at the wrong time.

We hold to the belief that there is only one path to God. And that path is, of course, through our particular Savior, Prophet, Enlightened One. We can’t even consider that God might delight in being discovered in a temple, in an ashram, a cathedral, a mosque or even just in silence. We can’t consider the possibility that He can send His Son with no intention of setting Him up in competition with Buddha.   We forget that all of life, all over the globe is His creation. Our God is small….

We’re not content to live our beliefs. We must convince others they are wrong. And if they don’t agree, force them…through law, through domination. When religion marries government, it can only go off. A sign the fruits of our beliefs are so weak, living them is not enough. God’s justice is not enough. We must intervene.

Abortion is the hot button. Murder! Yet we manage to put it in a different category than all the other life/death choices made. Choices made according to the criteria we’ve determined are right: collateral damage happens; who gets the kidney;  when profit is more important then clean water/air. We have fought righteous wars over sugar, land, oil. We argue over whether should there be a death penalty. We eat meat because we can (we’ve dominion over them).  God evidently set it up so we’d have to make choices, deal with gray areas.  We don’t like it.  

I think it’s why we focus so determinedly on abortion. Here we can be self righteous in our interpretation of “Thou shalt not kill.”  It’s emotional – a baby after all (or a potential baby). In it’s defense, we can put aside the times when we’ve made trade-offs about which life matters most.  In a world that is complex and messy, maybe we need to grab onto something that doesn’t immediately affect us. It’s a relief to focus on someone else’s womb, someone else’s choice.

I realize the irony of this post, pushing my beliefs in the name of Truth, as others do theirs. People I respect, who are sincere in their beliefs. People who don’t believe we can coexist: that someone has to win, one religion and it’s laws dominate.  I hope they are wrong.

In the meantime, be true to yourself. I know I will.

Today is the Day

Words always compromise the experience we’re having. But we try anyway.Image result for inauguration day
What is being present: now, today? What is being aware, awake, fully alive? How do you experience it? What does all this mean in difficult times anyway?

TODAY’S THE DAY

Cheers erupt
in triumph.
Tears fall
in disappointment.
Fears hover in the
shadow of what’s to come.

But I feel a place
of stillness, just
Spacious Stillness.

From here I know
love in action.
From here I know
it’s only in our
wandering off
that we forget

we’re connected.
Mirrors for each other,
loved by the very Universe
we’re scared of.
Loved beyond our possessions,
successes, our failures.

Hell is not being crucified!
Jesus died in love,
connecting and forgiving.
He died showing us
how to live…
no matter what…

It’s all about the Love
you are, the Love that you can share.
the Love that’s beyond understanding.

Peace!

When the world spins out….

Thoughts while obsessing about the the craziness, best-non-american-actors-and-actresses-5
violence, and suffering of this world.

Inertia descends.
I fear movement
Will crack

something open and
Things will ooze out,
Or worse, maybe in….

Occupy time
Wait
Become invisible

But it’s not enough.
Searching for answers,
understanding fails.

I know how to set
goals, visualize.
I don’t.

Trapped, not
wanting to admit
the world is shaking.

geesebesliter 11/1/2016

Needless to say, obsessing is not useful, uplifting nor something to cultivate. It does happen. I strive to notice its effect and then, move on.

up. up and away…

“Work is love made visible.” Kahlil Gibran

Recently we had the dead wood cut out of our two oak trees. We hired the company my husband liked the best because there were no bucket machines, just a climber.  The Stump Guy, Rod, works with a tree climber named Tim. They were pretty casual in their proposal so  I wasn’t so sure but it turned out they were good.  And, I got to feel the impact of one who loves their work.

DSC03072It was mesmerizing to watch Tim….not just because he hauled himself up a rope for 25 ft, nor because he could fling a rope from the ground over a high limb in one try, or balance on a tree limb with a chain saw in his hand…no, it was because he loved DSC03068what he did. The ground guy Dave was impressive, hauling out 90 lb. limbs over his head. But it was Tim I watched.

He moved around the tree talking: to himself, to the tree, to God…you could feel the energy. He loved doing what he did. He loved how he did it. He loved trees.
We felt it.

“Do what you love
It radiates
Touching hearts
Reminding us
why we are here.

besliter 8/2016

Mothers (grieving and processing continues)

MOTHERSMothers Day Clip Art 2015, Acrostic Poem Template For Kids |

birth mothers,
earth mothers
stepmothers

awkward roles assigned
archetypes embodied
stereotypes enacted

primal roots
patriarchy
tribal law

we carry bits & pieces
cluttering the present
with long forgotten fears

Maybe three years ago, Kelly decided she wanted to call me Mom. We agreed, but I had no idea what that would mean to me as time went on.  That simple word turned out to make demands, stir fears I didn’t know I had, and trigger roles I didn’t know I would take on…

Nurturing Mother: As her disease progressed there were times she needed a nurturing mother, not a stepmother, not a friend. She wanted the “just hold me and make it all better” mother.  The mother she needed when she was 3, 10 or 13 years old, but never had because of her birth mother’s illness. And worse, I couldn’t be that for her. I’m not a cuddler. I just learned how not to duck when a friend goes to kiss me. I can hug. But what I am wasn’t enough. I felt lacking in the deepest way. I’ve been working through my own sense of shame (I just  figured out it is shame)  that I wasn’t more in those times. It’s getting better.

Responsible/socializing Mother: And then there were those times I responded to “mom” by trying to socialize her (a little late in the game). She felt criticized, and she was. The unconditional love she needed was absent. On reflection what surfaced were primal fears of distant times when daughters who violated the tribal norms were stoned.  Free spirits were not rewarded. It was dangerous.  Mothers who failed were shamed.
Where did this deep compulsion, this tribal consciousness for conformity come from?  My Mother’s version was “What will the neighbors think?”.  How many generations has this fear been passed along, unconscious, under the guise of being a good mother? How did I not know?
Once seen I could shift and that surprised me as well. Awareness again brings freedom.

Mom: And then there were all the times when she was just my daughter, my heart open. heart energyIt was clean, without old tapes. It was love.  For these times, nothing much needs to be said. Actually, nothing much can be said. Those times just were. Love just is.

Life’s gifts: My time with Kelly was, and is, humbling. I saw how much I could give, but also how much I couldn’t. I was a doer. My caring could have a sharp edge. I’ve had to remind myself over and over, we’re all full of paradoxes and imperfections, and to not discount what I had to offer because of the things I couldn’t. I’ve had to learn to stop trying to fix me, so I could stop trying to fix everyone else. Self-Acceptance! Sounds so simple. I’m closer as a result of my time with Kelly: greater awareness and greater acceptance, even of what is unfinished….not bad.

Give me liberty or….

Gaius Sallustius Crispus (86-34 B.C.) observed, “Few men desire liberty; most … wish only for a just master.”

LIBERTY: the quality or state of being free (From Merriam-Webster)

Choosing Freedom (or, there is no savior coming)

Free to choose, I learnSoaring-Eagle-1-300x182
the consequences
of my choices.

Coerced into goodness
I learn resentment,
or worse, nothing at all.

“Yes” means nothing if I
can’t say “no”;  Courage
is the soulmate of freedom.

“Don’t tread on me,”
I will strive to love you.
I choose to be free

not just in action
but in thought
and in what I feel.

What I come to believe,
how I live or die,
what I give or withhold,

all serve my soul’s purpose
growing awareness
as my heart unfolds.

besliter, March, 2016

Epilogue:tREE
Freedom is not without risks. But trading freedom for perceived safety, for someone to blame, or even someone else to make me happy, well, then I’m doomed to disappointment.  Love, joy, peace are inside jobs. Love is always freely given.

Can a chandelier do that?

We recently had the inside of our house painted.  In the process we decided to take down the chandelier in the kitchen. It was left over from before our kitchen remodel that added an center island/eating counter. The chandelier really had no function any more. It hung where once there was a table. Now it was in the pathway of those who walked through, occasionally bonking folks on the head if they came too close.
We replace it with a recessed light. It looks great. We both love it.

For the next several days my husband kept saying how much he had disliked that old chandelier; DRAIN_2_by_musky306_463480_disappearing_waterhow much he was glad to have it gone. After several days it hit me, on some level the chandelier had drained his energy every time he looked at it. He tolerated it but it bothered him. And what’s more, he had no longer noticed that it bothered him. Toleration numbs you out. The contrast when he talk about the new light was stark. He was vibrant.

I asked him where else he might be tolerating something? Areas where he’s pushed aside his desire for something because it was impractical or the wrong time.  Areas where he’s “making do.”  Often tolerations aren’t big things, e.g., a lighting fixture, but they are slow leaks in terms of our vitality.

What are you tolerating?
Either we love something or not; either we care about something or not. If you don’t love or care about it, why do you have it? Why spend your precious time on it?  What are you tolerating? It’s may be time to let go.

tol er ate (Merriam-Webster)
: to allow (something that is bad, unpleasant, etc.) to exist, happen, or be done
: to experience (something harmful or unpleasant) without being harmed
: to put up with

Luck or ?

Saturday afternoon I was driving with my husband, just knocking around, seeing what we could see. We decided to take back roads and drive north as much as possible. A GPS is a great tool for this sort of meandering road trip. We Lucky Dicewere enjoying the 60 degree day and the sun which had been absent far too many days this winter. So we drove, feeling the sun’s warmth, looking at houses, trees, small towns. I was happy and thought to myself, “How lucky I am!”

As soon as the thought registered I noticed a certain unease. “I’m lucky now but this could go away. Lucky could become unlucky.” It was subtle but luck suggested that what I do doesn’t matter. That a roll of the dice determines outcomes. It was “just luck.” Really?

I decided to shift to “I’m grateful: grateful for my husband, the warm sun, the car with a sun roof, the ability to take off and drive for the sheer fun of it.”  This felt totally different. Appreciating what I had in the moment made it richer. I felt richer. I was richer.

How we think matters. To think of ourselves as “just lucky,” is to discount the power Soaring-Eagle-1-300x182of our own imaginings, our thoughts, intellect and choices. These are the tools we’re born with to co-create our lives on earth. How we think about something actually changes our experience of it. Words matter. Would you rather be lucky or grateful?

We are co-creators, learning to live more skillfully.

The .04 difference

In .04 seconds, what can happen?

A  smile;
A knife cut;
A bee sting;
A “thank you” said;
You’re on or off  the podium.

Last night in the Women’s Olympic Skeletal event, Katie Uhlaender, United States, lost the Bronze medal to Elena Nikitina, Russia, by 0.04 seconds; that’s 4/100 of a second.

Elena Nikitina, Bronze

In what seemed like an eye blink, Katie, a great athlete, was off the podium.

World class athletes are used to winning or losing by seconds. Competing at that level, they know everything counts. They train and give their all knowing some small movement, a sudden wind, a distraction, rough spot, or something else they can’t control could make the .04 difference. Yesterday it did and Elena, another great athlete, won.

It made me wonder, where in my life could there be a “.04 difference”?  And more importantly, how would I go forward when it happened? Uhlaender vowed to rebound.

Katie UhlaenderKatie Uhlaender

Here’s to great athletes everywhere! Who keep doing what they love. Sochi Olympics, February, 2014

 

 

Am I my books?

It started when my husband needed to replace an electrical outlet behind one of my two crammed bookcases. I emptied all the books into the middle of my office floor so the bookcase would be light enough to move away from the wall. IMG_0668

When it was time to move the books back, I decided I should go through them and pare down.  As for criteria, I would consider: Do I refer to them? Will I re-read them?  Sounded simple enough.

But when I turned to the pile I froze. Some of these books influenced me greatly.  I was sentimental about them. “Molecules of Emotions” by Candice Pert, “The Mind of the Strategist” by Kenichi Ohmae,  Marvin Weisbord’s “Organizational Diagnosis,” “Everyday Miracles” by David Spangler,  “Focusing” by Eugene Gendlin, M.Scott Myers’ “Every Employee a Manager,  “How to make Meetings Work” by Doyle and Straus. There were Enneagram books, coaching books, self-help books, Spiritual books.

My fondness for these physical books made me wonder what magical powers I’d attributed to their printed pages. In a sense, these books defined me. Sitting on shelves, they were visible signposts of my journey through life.  I appreciated their gifts. They seemed like faithful friends.

But going through them, I realized that over the years I’ve incorporated their ideas into my own understanding and way of working. I didn’t need them any more as testimony to my own learning, nor as talismans against my own deficiencies.DSC02945 I began to appreciate what I now knew; the knowledge I carried within me. It was not only OK to let the books go, it was time. So I sorted and got sacks ready to take to Half Priced Books.

May someone else find them as helpful as I did.