For my mother

I am fond of our conversations on Monday nights when I call you on the way back from work.  Many an enlightened outlook I've been able to enjoy because of your sound advice and subtle diction.  You usher in a sense of composure, of peace, focus and renewed strength.

I tend to doubt, you tend to believe.  My vision becomes blurred and astray, you keep me centered.  I fret, you continue to remain calm.

Regardless of association: I appreciate you as a human being in my life.

Man, Woman; Heart.

Sustainable Fulfillment.

Fulfillment.

At one point in a person’s life, regardless of consciousness, they ask of themselves, “What is fulfilling, to me?” 

Working for the weekends.

Being the best husband/wife/family member I can be.

Adventure.

Blacking out on Friday.

“Hooking up.”

Finding love.

I’m working on a theory that highlights short bursts of fulfillment, as opposed to deep and resounding fulfillment.  I believe most people don’t ask the question highlighted above, they just generally assume that their agenda for life will fill the bill for the time being.  It may last minutes, days, weeks or even years but that well will dry up.  They’re not asking the tough question: What is sustainably fulfilling in life?

In my own existence I am grinding through activities, relationships and “life” that allow me to seek what is fulfilling.  My answer?  Until Life’s beautifully disastrous pinwheel spins me right round again?  Love and adventure: Two elemental disciples of life that will never default existence, provide happiness and always stay classy.

Of course people change, life changes, goals change, situations change and thus definitions of fulfillment change.  Until then, let everyone be blessed enough to experience some form of sustainable fulfillment.  

Giving Somebody Your Heart

In every interaction you have with another human being—doesn’t matter who—you always have two main choices.

(The keyword is choice.)

One choice usually leads to logical (boring) interaction, politeness, formalities. And, more importantly, a lack of connectivity.

The other usually leads to interesting discussion, love (yes, love), aliveness, friendship, gift giving. And connectivity.

In every interaction you are either giving somebody else your mind—your intellect, your intelligent points, the who/what/where/when/why of your existence.

This is the easy thing to do. The safe thing to do. It doesn’t require much, if any, emotional strength or really expose who you are. In this way, you can hide from others (or from your self, depending on how you look at it) and not risk rejection by not even giving somebody the chance to reject you.

Or, you are giving somebody your heart—the real you, your presence, your true attention.

This is the hard thing to do. The risky thing to do. It involves an enormous amount of emotional strength (until it doesn’t). It entails entering the present moment. And it entails pushing through the challenging and stifling fear of doing so.

Instead of thinking about what to say or do, you let your inwardly felt experience inform your words and actions toward others.

Think about how often you self-censor and hit the mute button. Why? Why not just assume that what you have to say is valuable, even if it comes out not so smooth? Then maybe you say next, “oh, that was lame” and then laugh.

It’s this kind of moment-to-moment truthfulness that is required.

It’s so easy (but frightening) to practice because you always know what to say or do in any interaction with somebody else. The problem is having the courage to act on it.

Isn’t it time to feel less anxious and less alone and less unfulfilled?

--Christopher Lowman

Let go.

"Be crumbled. So wild flowers will come up where you are. You have been stony for too many years. Try something different. Surrender." --Rumi

A Note from Ghandi G.

Full Effort is Full Victory
by Eknath Eswaran

Gandhi wanted so deeply to help the world that he dedicated his life to siphoning every trace of self-interest out of his heart and mind, leaving them pure, radiantly healthy, and free to love. It took him nearly twenty years to gain such control of his thinking process, but with every day of demanding effort he discovered a little more of the deep resources that are within us all: unassuming leadership, eloquence, and an endless capacity for selfless service.

When he was in South Africa, Gandhi sometimes would walk fifty miles a day and sleep only a few hours a night. Even into his seventies he wrote hundreds of letters every week; when his right hand got tired, he learned to write with his left. Once, while he was writing a letter, the lantern failed. Most of us would have quit and gone to bed, but Gandhi, aware of how much his reply meant to those who had written him, went outside and finished his correspondence by moonlight. That kind of drive gives a glimpse of the wellspring of vitality he tapped every day. If we were asked to live like this, we would say, "Impossible!" Gandhi would object, "Oh, no. It is possible, when your mind is flooded with love for all."

 

Late in Gandhi's life a Western journalist asked, "Mr. Gandhi, you've been working fifteen hours a day for fifty years. Don't you ever feel like taking a few weeks off and going for a vacation?" Gandhi laughed and said, "Why? I am always on vacation." Because he had no personal irons in the fire, no selfish concerns involved in his work, there was no conflict in his mind to drain his energy. He had just one overwhelming desire -- an ambition that, like a bonfire, had consumed all his passion. This world-famous figure, who could have been prime minister of India and one of the wealthiest men in Asia, declared he had no interest in becoming rich or famous. He wanted something far greater, he said: to become zero, to place all his talents, resources, time, and energy in a trust for the world.

 

"Full effort is full victory," said Gandhi. You need not be troubled if you have made mistakes, or if your ideal has slipped away. Just continue to give your best. If you fall, pick yourself up and march on. If you cannot run, walk. If you cannot walk, crawl. Nothing in life is more joyful or more thrilling. The effort alone brings a continuing wave of joy in which every personal problem, every suffering and humiliation, is forgotten.

 

--Eknath Eswaran

Never too late

Accept everything about yourself--I mean everything, You are you and that is the beginning and the end--no apologies, no regrets. --Clark Moustakas 

Zzzzzzzz...

The best bridge between despair and hope is a good night's sleep. --E. Joseph Cossman 

Where da hope at?

When You Are Low on Hope

by Max Lucado

Water. All Noah can see is water. The evening sun sinks into it. The clouds are reflected in it. His boat is surrounded by it. Water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the west. Water.

He sent a raven on a scouting mission; it never returned. He sent a dove. It came back shivering and spent, having found no place to roost. Then, just this morning, he tried again. With a prayer he let it go and watched until the bird was no bigger than a speck on a window.

All day he looked for the dove’s return.

Now the sun is setting, and the sky is darkening, and he has come to look one final time, but all he sees is water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the …

You know the feeling. You have stood where Noah stood. You’ve known your share of floods. Flooded by sorrow at the cemetery, stress at the office, anger at the disability in your body or the inability of your spouse. You’ve seen the floodwater rise, and you’ve likely seen the sun set on your hopes as well. You’ve been on Noah’s boat.

And you’ve needed what Noah needed; you’ve needed some hope. You’re not asking for a helicopter rescue, but the sound of one would be nice. Hope doesn’t promise an instant solution but rather the possibility of an eventual one. Sometimes all we need is a little hope.

That’s all Noah needed. And that’s all Noah received.

Here is how the Bible describes the moment: “When the dove returned to him in the evening, there in its beak was a freshly plucked olive leaf!” (Gen. 8:11 NIV).

An olive leaf. Noah would have been happy to have the bird but to have the leaf! This leaf was more than foliage; this was promise. The bird brought more than a piece of a tree; it brought hope. For isn’t that what hope is? Hope is an olive leaf—evidence of dry land after a flood. Proof to the dreamer that dreaming is worth the risk.

To all the Noahs of the world, to all who search the horizon for a fleck of hope, Jesus proclaims, “Yes!” And he comes. He comes as a dove. He comes bearing fruit from a distant land, from our future home. He comes with a leaf of hope.

Have you received yours? Don’t think your ark is too isolated. Don’t think your flood is too wide. Receive his hope, won’t you? Receive it because you need it. Receive it so you can share it. Receive his hope, won’t you? Receive it because you need it. Receive it so you can share it.

What do you suppose Noah did with his? What do you think he did with the leaf? Did he throw it overboard and forget about it? Do you suppose he stuck it in his pocket and saved it for a scrapbook? Or do you think he let out a whoop and assembled the troops and passed it around like the Hope Diamond it was?

Certainly he whooped. That’s what you do with hope. What do you do with olive leaves? You pass them around. You don’t stick them in your pocket. You give them to the ones you love. Love always hopes. “Love … bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor. 13:4–7 NKJV, emphasis mine).

Love has hope in you.

The aspiring young author was in need of hope. More than one person had told him to give up. “Getting published is impossible,” one mentor said. “Unless you are a national celebrity, publishers won’t talk to you.” Another warned, “Writing takes too much time. Besides, you don’t want all your thoughts on paper.”

Initially he listened. He agreed that writing was a waste of effort and turned his attention to other projects. But somehow the pen and pad were bourbon and Coke to the wordaholic. He’d rather write than read. So he wrote. How many nights did he pass on that couch in the corner of the apartment reshuffling his deck of verbs and nouns? And how many hours did his wife sit with him? He wordsmithing. She cross-stitching. Finally a manuscript was finished. Crude and laden with mistakes but finished.

She gave him the shove. “Send it out. What’s the harm?”

So out it went. Mailed to fifteen different publishers. While the couple waited, he wrote. While he wrote, she stitched. Neither expecting much, both hoping everything. Responses began to fill the mailbox. “I’m sorry, but we don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts.” “We must return your work. Best of luck.” “Our catalog doesn’t have room for unpublished authors.”

I still have those letters. Somewhere in a file. Finding them would take some time. Finding Denalyn’s cross-stitch, however, would take none. To see it, all I do is lift my eyes from this monitor and look on the wall. “Of all those arts in which the wise excel, nature’s chief masterpiece is writing well.”

She gave it to me about the time the fifteenth letter arrived. A publisher had said yes. That letter is also framed. Which of the two is more meaningful? The gift from my wife or the letter from the publisher? The gift, hands down. For in giving the gift, Denalyn gave hope.

Love does that. Love extends an olive leaf to the loved one and says, “I have hope in you.”

Love is just as quick to say, “I have hope for you.”

You can say those words. You are a flood survivor. By God’s grace you have found your way to dry land. You know what it’s like to see the waters subside. And since you do, since you passed through a flood and lived to tell about it, you are qualified to give hope to someone else.

Laughter > Food

Remember, men need laughter sometimes more than food. --Anna Fellows Johnston 

Experimenting with Silence

I've been trying new things in life as of recently.  No I haven't jumped out of an airplane, picked up the french horn or get better at tomahawk throwing.  I am trying new things in terms of personal challenges.  Amongst these stepping stones to (hopefully) become a better person is being comfortable with silence.  It takes about 20 minutes to get to work each morning.  If you took a 20 minute ride to work with me 5 years ago I'd probably be blasting off to Led Zeppelin (wearing all black of course) or some other band on my iPod.

Now I'm trying out silence.  I want to be conscious of the thoughts in my head as I do a normal route each day.  I want to be able to listen to what is actually going on inside my head and hopefully my spirit.  I want to quiet my mind and allow room and time to listen to...well, we'll find out I guess!

Is there something you feel is mundane and you drown out of your day?  I do, that's why I'm changing things up.

Silence is a fence around wisdom. --German Proverb 

Small Battles

Believers in Small Graces
by Kent Nerbern

[Listen to Audio! ]

There are those who search God in the quiet places -- no churches, no public displays of piety, no dramatic or flamboyant rituals.

They may be found standing in humble awe before a sunset, or weeping quietly at the beauty of a Bach concerto, or filled with an overflowing of pure love at the sight of an infant in the arms of its mother.

You may meet them visiting the elderly, comforting the lonely, feeding the hungry, and caring for the sick.

The greatest among them may give away what they own in the name of compassion and goodness, while never once uttering the word “God” out loud. Or they may do no more than offer a smile or a hand to someone in need, or quietly bow their heads at a moment of beauty that passes through their lives, and say a simple prayer of gratitude to the spirit that has created us all.

They are the lovers of the quiet God, the believers in the small graces of ordinary life.

Theirs is not the grand way, the way of the mystic or the preacher or the zealot or the saint. Some would say that theirs is not a way at all. All they know for certain is that life has beauty and a joy that transcends all the darkness that surrounds us, that something ineffable lives beyond the ordinary affairs of the day, and that without this mystery our lives would not be worth living.

I honor those who search for the quiet God, who seek the spirit in the small moments of our everyday life. It is a celebration of the ordinary, a reminder that when all else is stripped away, a life lived with love is enough.

--Kent Nerbern

Do/n't

“In leadership, there are three don’ts:

 

     When there is much to do, don’t be afraid; 

     When there is nothing to do, don’t be hasty; and

     Don’t talk about opinions of right or wrong when 

     action can be taken.

 

A leader who succeeds in these things won’t be confused or deluded by external objects and circumstances.” Thomas Cleary

With your own two hands

What we think determines what happens to us, so if we want to change our lives, we need to stretch our minds. --Wayne Dyer