And that bird is….oh, just a robin.

 

 

“Maybe it doesn’t want to be identified.”
    from The New Yorker Jan. 9, 2017

 

 

Maybe, just maybe, “it” doesn’t want to be identified because once it is, people stop paying attention.
“Oh, just a robin.”

We all yearn to be seen and understood. Yet too often, once we “identify” someone or something as being a certain way, we stop paying attention. We never really see them again, blind to who they are now. We see what we expect to see. We stop being curious.

True, we come by labeling legitimately. Identifying things and making distinctions have been key to surviving: knowing a poisonous mushroom from a morel ; a copperhead from a harmless garter snake, a stranger from a member of your tribe.   It’s how primitive man (and woman) lived long enough to discover the world. An unidentified difference equaled a perceived threat until someone, brave enough, curious enough, got to know it.

Practically, the ability to identify something also means we don’t have to think about everything all the time. “I know [fill in the blank]. It’s OK.”   It’s the practical side of stereotyping.  You don’t have to start from scratch. You draw on your experience, cultural norms, what you’ve been taught. You can build up a “that is safe” pile. But then, by default, you also have a “that is dangerous” pile you tend to fear.

So what’s the downside?  Our preconceived notions limit our experience of the world, as well as our experience of people.

When labels or how we identify something becomes the primary mode of interacting, we stop experiencing life. You see what you remember as being there, what you think should be there: the uniqueness and diversity within groups is missed, change unnoticed, exceptions dismissed if seen at all.

So yes, “that’s a robin.”  But maybe it doesn’t want to be identified, categorized, put in a box.

Try getting curious.  Let yourself be surprised. Notice, what’s different about this robin.

In relationship you experience life!

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!

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.

It’s my birthday…

My friend Cheryl texted me about her birthday. She was noticing that her age, the number ascribed to her by the calendar, seemed young to her now.  She didn’t feel old, the image she used to have of someone in their late 60’s.  It got me to musing……and this is what I wrote:

It’s my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to….*

Will I start hanging out in coffee
houses hoping for conversation?
Volunteer at soup kitchens just
for something to do?29-YD218tn

Will people see me in the garden
bending over – a cliche?
Or maybe I’ll discover my right
brain, another Grandma Moses.

Will I succumb and buy some
plastic surgeon his next BMW?
Or, will I just relax,
surrendering to each moment?

Do what I’m doing  but with
a little more awareness.
Slow down enough to
really taste my food.

Feel the sun on my skin.
And maybe wear what
I want simply because
I feel good in it.

Birthdays are reminders.
That it is our life to live,
and to notice when we try10-YELLOW-LOTUS-Sacred-Water-Lily-Lily-Pad-Asian-Water-Lotus-Nymphaea-Ampla-Flower-Seeds.jpg_640x640
to live someone else’s.

It’s my birthday and
I’ll cry if I want to….
my tears will not be of sorrow
but for the joy of being me.

*adapted from:
“It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to, cry if I want to
You would cry too if it happened to you.”
sung by Lesley Gore – It’s My Party

our shadow side

It’s easier said then done, to really explore our shadow side…those things within us thattree-branch-shadows-on-snow we’d rather not experience or see. But I’m beginning to believe that paying attention to everything that wants to move through us is key. Too many times we’ve been too busy, too vulnerable, too something to fully experience what is happening to us. But emotion not fully experienced goes underground; it drains our vitality, our energy.

A safe way for me to experience is to write. The process allows me to feel the emotion and let it move through. The details of the story aren’t important. But being where I am is. So, I let the words flow.

anger rising

Anger rages
decades old
too many apologies
for my existence.

Pushing it to the side
I run as fast as I can
ahead of the hurt,
the fear, the confusion.

Exhausted I want
to be left alone
No! to be held,
No!… I don’t know.

I want out of the storm.
Bargaining for love
I died  – trying to
get it right.

Now old feelings come
to haunt me
This time they
won’t be ignored.

So, I write…to acknowledge life, to let go, to be true to myself…one poem at a time.

The earth is shaking, rejoice…

You are on the cusp of change. Do you make that job shift? IMG_1027Do you sell the house? Can you envision living without them? Retirement becomes a reality; work receding into the background. The stock market once again prunes the money tree you thought would bear you fruit.

The unknown looms ahead.

At times like this, it’s good to be reminded that life isn’t something we lockstep through.  Security and predictability are perhaps not meant to be.

XXIX
Traveler, there is no path.
The path is made by walking.

Traveller, the path is your tracks
And nothing more.
Traveller, there is no path
The path is made by walking.
By walking you make a path
And turning, you look back
At a way you will never tread again
Traveller, there is no road
Only wakes in the sea.”
― Antonio MachadoBorder of a Dream: Selected Poems

It is in living life that we are blessed, engaging in the ultimate adventure.  Life tests us, demands we grow,  learn and become more. The challenge is always, can we be present to it? Can we allow the flow even when it looks like going over Niagara Falls, or feels like we might run aground, or maybe even worse, stagnate going no where.

Can we find the rainbow?   Or, better yet …can we let it find us?

How’s it going?

Recently Sally Schneider posted at Improvised Life  about not knowing. She asks the question,  “Can you hang with not knowing.”

I understand not knowing. Not knowing the MRI results, the outcome of an operation, whether an organization will turn around in time, whether our favorite oak tree will succumb to the Bacterial Leaf Drop…  the list goes on.

I wrote this poem a year ago. It is as true today as it was then. However, there is a difference.  I’m listening a little harder, trusting a little more,  and importantly, more at  peace with just “the next step.”

How’s It Going?-road-ahead-unclear-green-freeway-sign-representing-uncertainty-in-financial-business

“I don’t know”
Not a satisfying response
Most prefer a polite lie,
Definitely more certainty.

But the small voice
of wisdom won’t
be ordered about,
has its own timing.

So when the veils
haven’t yet parted,
how do you
walk through life?

The sun rises and sets
Baby birds hatch
Trees lose their leaves.
Life in its rhythm.IMG_0551

Surely you too are part
of life’s flow, as important
as the field mouse,
the fallen bird.

What’s left but
noticing what calls you.
Trusting you’re guided
Always the next step.

besliter

Shiva whispered in my ear

When Shiva, our sweet cat died, this poem came to me:

Love fiercely,
Let your heart breakDSC02937
It’s then that Life
knows its worth.*

I think Shiva whispered these words in my ear. She was letting me know how letting myself feel such love, even for a moment, is what life is all about. And yes, that means feeling the grief and pain when something or someone you love leaves you.

Photo 1Love fiercely! Again and again. Life demands it, and you’ll have no regrets.

Shiva via besliter 8/11/14