Compassion and the Five Dollar Bill

  Unless you have lived under a rock for the past few weeks you have seen and read the story of NYC Police Officer Larry DePrimo’s gift of thermal socks and boots to a shoeless and homeless man in Times Square. His kindness was gesture of pure goodwill. It was born from his sense of what is right and wrong. This was a gift from an Officer and a Gentleman who continues to carry the receipt for those boots and socks in his shirt pocket. Ironically it resides under his bullet proof vest.  He said, the receipt reminds him that he is a fortunate man.

  Officer Deprimo’s selflessness reinforces the notion that compassion does reside within each and every one of us.  We feel it, know it, taste it and yes, above all else, we believe in it.  Compassion is born from a deep stirring within.  It is a call to right a wrong or make a situation easier or at least, a little better for someone else. We understand that as humans we are bound, we are stitched together by a thread called life.   

  For me the last several weeks at work have been busy, well actually, nonstop.  I have been unable to take a short break for lunch no less a full hour.  Today I was planning on driving one town over in the direction nearer to where I live.  There is a Chase Bank there and I needed to make my daughters car payment and also process a deposit for the Volunteer Fire Department for which I am the treasurer. 

  In life there are no accidents, only what should be.  Today was no exception.

  After having a quick bowl of soup for lunch I put on my coat and began to head out my office door. But something stopped me and told me to instead prepare a bank deposit for work.  We use remote deposit scanners for our deposits, but in the event that we receive a Canadian check or cash I have to take those to the actual bank branch.  I had three small Canadian checks sitting on my desk for just about a week.  I returned to my desk, prepared the deposit and decided to head in the opposite direction.  I could still do my personal and Fire Department banking at a Chase branch and then take a quick ride down the road to TD Bank and make the work deposit.  The items that I had planned on picking up at the grocery store the next town over I could purchase at Target just a short drive from TD Bank.

    So this is what I did. After depositing the Canadian checks at TD Bank I stopped at Target.  All I really needed were a few plastic food containers.  I had made a double batch of creamed onions and planned on sharing them with a friend who loves them too.  Of course as I walked towards the grocery section and passed the store displays my mind was filled with other ideas of what to purchase.  I needed some Christmas cards, gift bags and candy canes.  I placed all of these items in my shopping cart.  At that moment I spotted the perfect Christmas tree ornament for my dog.  No, he is not actually mine.  I borrow him on Thursday nights.  He belongs to my dear friend but he pretends to be mine for a few hours a week. (And really, I am not an animal fan, but Seamus has stolen my heart!) Of course to go with the tree ornament I needed a treat for my dog.  Seeing me shopping in the pet section is totally the definition of “a fish out of water”.  After picking up and putting back down several varieties of bones and treats I settled on the filet migon flavor…..nothing is too good for my Thursday night dog!

  Shopping for a plastic food container cost me $32.72.  As we walk the isles of the stores they seem to contain so very many things that we must have, but do we really need them?   Walking towards my car I was enthralled by the sky.  At points the clouds were wispy and at other times, dense.  I noticed one spot where the sun was trying to shine through and there were rays of color appearing around a cloud.  Of course intrigued, I snapped a picture. I put my bags in the car and drove towards the exit. 

  The exit from the shopping plaza contains two lanes.  One is for making a right hand turn the other for making a left hand turn.  The incoming and outgoing lanes are separated by a concrete divider.  I was the second car in the far right lane waiting to make a turn, nothing unusual.  Suddenly I caught a glimpse of what was standing on the divider.  It was a man, a young man in his mid-twenties or so.  He was wearing a brown jacket and his head was covered by a hood.  Flowing from beyond his hood was his wavy dirty blond hair, and dirty does not solely describe the color but the condition.  His face was scruffy with unkempt facial hair and in his hands he held a brown cardboard sign with black letters that said:

                                                 “Hungry and homeless, please help.”

  I thought of my two bags containing $32.72 worth of nonsense.  Really?  I reach for my wallet. I do have some cash.  I pulled out a five dollar bill folded it over, rolled down the car window and waved it in the young man’s direction.  As he approached my car that momentary fear swept over me. Would he try to hurt me?  He extended his hand to accept my gift and I noticed his hands.  He was wearing gloves but the finger tips were worn out and they left his fingers exposed.

  I handed him the five dollar bill.  Gratefully, he looked into my eyes and said. “Thank you Mam’ and God bless you.”

  I couldn’t verbally respond.  I looked back into his dark brown eyes, pursed my lips, smiled and nodded.  The lump in my throat was too large to allow words to pass beyond it.   Within his gaze was simply sincerity.  This exchange occurred just a very few miles from a city riddled with crime and ruled by drugs.   Many would jump to the conclusion that this young man may be collecting handouts to support a habit.  This, of course is a possibility, but lies cannot be conveyed by honest eyes.  They speak from the soul, they tell truths.
 Although the exchange between us lasted just a few moments, I replayed it over and over again in my mind.  I kicked myself for not giving more.  I could have. I should have.  As I drove back to work I thought of turning my car around, of giving more, but tied to my work obligations I did not. 

  Tonight as I am enjoying the lights on my Christmas tree sparkle, flash and flicker. I think of him.  Where is he sleeping? As he lays his head down is his stomach full, satisfied or empty?  My fingers are warm and nimble as they tap upon the keys of my computer.  I think of him and his fingertipless gloves. His fingers are most likely not warm and definitely not nimble.  Probably they are cold and brittle. At this moment, I am sending him peace, love and compassion.

  We all take things for granted and complain about what is wrong or lacking within our lives.  It is human nature to do so.  Each of us is living from, and within our own perspectives.  And sometimes the view from where we “see” life is distorted. The next time you spend $32.72 or any amount on a few bags of nothingness, or filler items, think about what amount could give to someone who is struggling to survive.  Much like Officer Deprimo and his receipt, from this day forward each time I hold a five dollar bill in my hand it will remind me to dig a little bit deeper, to look a little further within, and ask myself…..could I do more.

 

Gratitude or Greed

  Gratitude, so much has been written and conveyed about the meaning of this word.  Is it a thought, a feeling or an emotion? Some say it is state of mind, others believe gratitude is an attitude. I believe that true gratitude is a feeling that resides within the heart.  It is the point when you are truly content with where you are in your life and what you have.  There comes a moment when you realize that you are not longing for something more you have all that you need. Gratitude aligns with peace and it reflects contentment.

  Gratitude has one day a year designated in its honor.  In 1863 President Abraham Lincoln declared the fourth Thursday in the month of November as national day of gratitude. For the past one hundred and forty some years Americans have enjoyed quite times surrounded by family, friends feasts and of course football! Thanksgiving Day is purely a day to just be.  We share our homes and our hearts. Family traditions take precedence.  Traditions may be in the form of a particular dish that must be on the Thanksgiving table, or it may be a certain blessing that is always recited or a story told.  Some make it an annual event to volunteer their time. They serve a hot meal to those who otherwise would not have one. It is a time to reflect on our blessings whether they are large, small or somewhere in between.  

     This past Saturday I did my usual weekly grocery shopping at Walmart.  With my cart full I made my way to the cashiers stationed at register number twelve.  I always enjoy my conversations with the person scanning and bagging my purchases.  Saturday, stationed at register twelve was one of my favorite cashiers.  I wish I could share this woman’s name with you, but it escapes me.  I can tell you that she works extremely hard, smiles widely and believes in the goodness of life.

 

  As I was unloading my groceries from my cart and placing them on the conveyer belt I said to her “So how many turkeys have you scanned this week?”

 Her reply was “Really, not that many.”

 I was shocked.  I thought she was going to tell me how she threw out her back passing hundreds of twenty pound turkeys across the cash register scanner! 

  So then I asked “What are you doing for the holiday?  Cooking or visiting?” 

 “Neither” she replied.  “I am working.  I will cook my turkey on Monday and celebrate the holiday then.”

 “What?” I said.  “You are working?”

  “Yes” she answered. 

  “Walmart is open on Thanksgiving Day?” I asked. 

  “Of course” she said.

   I realize that there are people who have always had to work on holidays. Traditionally they were essential personnel, nurses, firemen and policemen.  As the years have progressed restaurant workers, movie theater operators were also pressed into duty on this holiday.  Soon thereafter cashiers, shelf stockers and cart wranglers arose from their slumber the day after Thanksgiving to man the stores for the five a.m. door buster Christmas shopping specials.  Many times they passed lines of people who camped out in front of the store the night before just so that they could get the latest electronic gadget or save an additional twenty percent off the purchase prices.

  Where has the simplicity of life gone, why do we need to shop on Thanksgiving Day instead of continuing to enjoy our family, friends and traditions?  At what point did corporate profits overtake the importance of gratitude?  “Black Friday” is the day that the retailers traditionally turn the red ink financial losses of the year into the black, or profits. The Friday referred to is of course the day after Thanksgiving.  But now “Black Friday” sales are creeping into Thanksgiving Day.  Walmart will be open all day and with the turkey and stuffing barely digested Target and Sears will open their doors at nine p.m.  Is getting a discount on a television set or a reduced price on an i-pad more important than spending time together? Has greed overtaken gratitude on our priority list?   When did possessions become more important than relationships?   How many people when facing their mortality voice their disappointment about not possessing more things during their life?  Isn’t the resounding regret shared that I wish I had spent more time with my family and friends?

     Here is a simple thought, if we don’t show up to shop on Thanksgiving Day or night for that matter the retailers may not open their stores at these times next year.  Take a stand and don’t allow commercial advertising and mounds of sales flyers to lure you into believing that you must shop on Thanksgiving to secure the best Christmas gifts. Enjoy Thanksgiving; don’t use it to prepare for Christmas!    

   Recently, the northeastern part of the United States experienced some very trying and difficult times.   A powerful force named Sandy slammed into our neighborhoods and up ended our lives.  Damages ranged from severe to moderate to relatively mild, but each of us was affected in some way.  I was fortunate to be limited to several broken tree branches and the loss of electricity for five days.  With each passing day that I was without power my frustration mounted.  But I kept saying to myself….at least I have a roof over my head and my family is with me.  I was not transported thousands of feet away by the wind, surf and sand.  I may be inconvenienced, but my family and I are okay, we are safe. I may have been cold and tired of living in the dark but I was grateful.

   The television news reports and internet pictures documented the damage sustained along the eastern shore lines.  I have listened to the person who now possess only that which resides upon their back and that within a small bag, and yet they speak about how grateful they are.  Their families are safe.  Then you see in the distance the possessions that had defined their lives are heaped within the piles of rubble being hauled off by a bull dozer. Even within their frustration and despair they are grateful.  As much as these people may need new items I doubt they will be shopping the Black Friday sales.  They do not have a permanent home to put the things in and they probably won’t for a long while to come. 

  No one can tell you to be grateful, it must come from within.  Gratitude has its own unique essence. you experience it, feel it and allow its warmth to cloak you.

   Thanksgiving night as I drift off to sleep wrapped within my warm bed, being both physically and emotionally full from enjoying my day of gratitude I will think the people who are in the stores working and shopping.  I will send them a wish and a hope.  My wish for them is to slow down and reflect on life’s simple gifts.  The ones that cannot be bought nor sold and I will hope that they will connect with the place within their hearts where gratitude resides.

 

A Day of Being and Butterfies

Journal Entry 5/7/2010,

   “I dream of a day that I can do what I want, when I want.  A little freedom, is it really too much to ask for?  Just one day where I am not beholden to the obligations and expectation of others?  If I want to go for a walk, I will.  If I want to read, I do so.  If I want to sleep, dance, kayak, hit golf balls or write I will. And all of this without Father Time hovering over my shoulder and telling me that I have things to do and places to be.  I don’t envision this dream ever coming true.  Really I don’t.  

 During most of my waking hours I march to the beat of a drum.  It is the drum of commitments and obligations. My mind falls in line each and every time, but my heart rarely does.  My heart wishes to explore, to breathe and be free.   I yearn for the simple moments to touch my taste buds of life and let them burst and expand.  What is like to experience a “me” moment?  Purely, I just want a day to BE.”

 And then unexpectedly dreams do come true.  September of this year I traveled to Whitefish Montana for a writing retreat. The trip was my fiftieth birthday gift to myself. This was a huge step in putting me first. The past several years I have been drawn to the cadence of the written word.  They convey thoughts and feelings that the numbers I have lived with most of my life do not. Words are raw and they are real.  Yes, numbers balance, they make sense.  But words are alluring.  They possess mystery, wit and wisdom but more importantly they invoke emotions.

  When I made my arrangements I decided to travel to Montana a few days prior to the start of the retreat. For the first leg of my journey I booked a homey rustic bed and breakfast that was recommended by the retreat instructor.    

  My first full day in Montana I was anxious to explore after enjoying a savory breakfast and friendly conversation with my fellow guests I asked the owner for some assistance in charting my sightseeing tour.  He was very accommodating. With pen and marker in hand he began to trace a route along the map.  He suggested a trip to East Glacier National Park.  It was a two hour drive from Whitefish but I was assured along the way there were some wonderful views.  The Lodge owner then asked “Do you have bear spray?”  Surprised I replied “No, I didn’t pack any. I don’t even know where or if they sell it in New York.”  He said “Would you like to take a canister along with you?”  “Of course” I said and in that moment I thought, hmmmm this IS going to be an adventure.

 

 I packed the bear spray along with some water, snacks, sunscreen, my journal, a pen and a camera in my sling bag.  I was all set to go when that all too familiar voice of doubt chimed in “Are you really sure you want to go out alone?”  In that instant I considered spending the day at the lodge reading and relaxing.  But then I said to myself “Go, seek and see!  You didn’t come here to sit and read.”  So off I went.

 It was a warm fall day.  The sun positioned itself high within the deep blue sky and it illuminate all the magnificence that resided below.  I was soaking in every element around me and appreciating each and every gift presented. Finally, I had a day with no obligations.  I was wearing a watch but it was purely a fashion accessory. Time was not a measurement that I needed to keep.  Where I was traveling, I knew no one, I had no obligations.  I wasn’t expected to be anywhere at any specific time.  I moved freely.  Where I wanted to go and what I wanted do was totally up to me.

As I drove towards East Glacier National Park I was in awe of the breathtaking beauty that surrounded me. The mountains wrapped me within their welcoming embrace. I noticed a pull off area next to a river so I stopped simply because I could.  I walked towards the shoreline and collected a few river rocks and sat along the bank and listened.  As the water effortlessly flowed the river sang me its life song. It was comforting and sweet.  It spoke of movement, travel and change it also whispered of life’s perfectly appointed ebbs and flows. Bliss I thought, this is pure bliss.  As I made my way back to my car I was joined by a Monarch Butterfly. The prior few weeks they had been appearing around me in New York and now they were with me in Montana.  Their message is clear.  This is a time of transformation.  As I neared the car I looked down and there was another message…..a pure white rock among all of the colorful river rocks and it was in the shape of a heart! 

  Along my way I stopped at Goat Lick Lookout.  The goats were hiding but I did look out.  Perched high upon the mountain top I snapped several pictures. Someday when my memories fade I will have the pictures to look at and recall my experience and reconnect with my feelings at that particular moment. As I walked I spoke to the people I met along the path.  Isn’t that what life is really all about?  Engaging those that you meet along your journey, we arrive at that same point for a shared reason, purpose or experience.

 I loved the ride to the Park.  There was so much natural beauty to absorb.  I entered East Glacier National Park and followed the signs to Eagle Falls.  As I was driving in I saw a young man walking up a hill on the right hand side of the road.  No big deal, a tourist walking I thought, but then from in front of him emerged a large, dark black figure that was walking on all fours.  Yes, it was a bear crossing the road!  I was so very grateful that I was behind the wheel of my rental car!

  When I arrived at Eagle Falls I took a picture of the placard that was situated at the entrance of the trail.  This is my way of marking my photos so I know where each series was taken.  As I snapped the picture I noticed an orange blur in the bottom right hand corner.  It was another Monarch Butterfly passing by.   I walked towards the falls and when I arrived I sat by the river and I began writing my journal. I felt compelled to capture my feeling on the page.  I was grateful for the sunshine, the sky, for my freedom and for life.

  Scattered along the sides of the river were deliberately stacked river rocks. I wondered who had created these purposeful gifts and left them behind for others to enjoy. What was their intent and more importantly their story? Why did one rock precede the other? These impromptu statues intrigued me and caused me to think about the layers of our lives. Each section of the statue represented a different phase or stage of our lives and each was perfectly aligned and placed.

  As I was enjoying myself on this leg of my journey I encountered a family sharing the day.  The son and wife were exploring but the husband stopped to talk with me. He was friendly and accommodating and graciously he shared his knowledge about the Park.  With his map in hand he pointed out the next places I should visit.  We finished our conversation and he rejoined his family.

  In awe I watched the falls and took a few more pictures.  And what do you think was around me during this whole time?  Yes, another Monarch Butterfly. I understand the message. Much like a caterpillar emerging from its chrysalis I am changing, morphing and growing into a new form of me. 

  With each step I took the experience became fuller and richer. I drove to Two Medicine Lake.   When I saw the lake it stole my breath and spoke to me with deep reverence.  It was expansive and majestic.  With the steep mountains closely encasing the lake I felt safe and protected.   I had entered a womb created by Mother Nature.  As the lake gently rolled upon the shore and touched the rocks along the outer edges of her reach the water ignited their colors, with each pass the rocks became more vibrant and alive.  Isn’t this how life is?  Don’t people or events travel into your life with the purpose of igniting your passion or to restore your vibrancy?

  Two Medicine Lake in East Glacier National Park is purely heaven on earth, nothing more to say. When you step onto upon river rocks that line the shore they gently whisper to you.  Their colors enter your soul. They say wherever you are along your path you are just where you are meant to be. If your step causes the rocks to shift, that too is okay.  And contained therein is another life message, when a shift occurs, either large or small, it just means that your path is meant to readjust and realign.  Go with it…just be. 

  After sitting by the lake for a while I decided to take a short hike to Serenity Point.  The path was quiet. On the way up I did not encounter another person.  But I did see evidence of life, animal droppings.  I thought of the bear spray in my backpack and I realized that in my haste to get on the road and start my adventure I had not read the directions.  Now that was really “smart” I thought. If I encounter a bear I would have to say. ”Oh Mr. Bear wait, I need to put my glasses on and read the instructions before I can spray you!”  As quickly as that thought came to my mind I released it and along with the thought I sent my fear packing.  I knew it was not my day to come face to face with a bear.

It is apparent why that spot in the Park is called Serenity Point.  That is the feeling that overcomes you when you stand there. It is quiet, serene and so very peaceful.  And as much as I wanted to stay there I knew that my day of exploration was nearing its end.  I made my way back towards my car and as I did a Monarch Butterfly flew before me.  Once again, I was blessed by another perfectly simple gift.

  Upon my return to the lodge I enjoyed a glass of wine on the deck that adjoined my room.  As the sun retreated for the day so did I.  I enjoyed a warm sea salt bath and then went to bed.  As I wrapped myself in the blankets and I relived the moments of the day. Each moment is a snapshot in time.  However in each and every one that day I was present, totally present.  I simply enjoyed whatever appeared before me.  Every moment mattered and not one was wasted.

  As I was drifting off to sleep I was reminded of something that occurred on my drive back from the Park.  As I was leaving I picked up a sandwich at a little store located near the Park’s entrance.  I ate it while I was driving.  With the sandwich in my right hand and my left hand on the steering wheel in the twelve o’clock position I was heading towards the descending sun.  Suddenly the windshield wipers made a single pass along the glass.  It was not of my doing.  My hands were nowhere near windshield wiper controls.  This was a final message from the Universe.  It said, “I know you enjoyed every moment of your long overdue day of being, just purely and simply being. And perhaps now your heart’s vision is clear.”

 

The Golden Rule

The Golden Rule, we all know it, we have all heard it.  Our parents drilled it into our consciousness and we have reiterated it to our children.   “You only treat people the way that you want to be treated.”   Or “Do unto others as they do unto you.”  Either version conveys the same message.  If you don’t want to be treated badly, gossiped about, or bullied, don’t do it to another human being.

 Our schools now have regimented anti bullying campaigns. There have been too many stories in the news about young people who were abused and bullied.  It may occur face to face or through cyber space.  Sadly, too many of these accounts have ended tragically.  The truth is if people lived by the Golden Rule these incidents would not have occurred.  Who would willingly subject themselves to humiliation, verbal abuse or physical attacks?  It is true; simply treat other as you want to be treated!

  With all of this emphasis on eradicating bullying and gossiping why would the current leader of this Nation and a potential leader of our Nation openly and deliberately exhibit the behavior that we are telling our children NOT to do?

  Currently it is election season.  On this year’s calendar is a big one, the Presidential vote. During this campaign season, like so many before, we have been openly witnessing two men who are treating one another badly.  There is name calling, twisting of words, and misrepresentation of facts not to mention the skewed visual depictions on television and print advertisements.

 I am not one to air my political views.  It is not part of my DNA.  Some people take to the election season like it is a sporting event.  Key players are evaluated, opponents are studied and strategies are formulated. Any way to discredit the opponent is revered.  These past few months interested and passionate Americans have held countless discussions and debates around office water coolers, at family gatherings and on the sidelines and in the stands of our children’s sporting events. Opposing sides have clashed and the misrepresentations voiced from the media are repeated. For good measure the storyteller’s version of the truth is added to the tale and it is embellished. 

  With the advent of social media folks have added another venue in which to “share” their thoughts about either candidate or political party.  For the most part I ignore these posts. But now people  have a place where they can speak freely without having to look into the eyes of the person standing before them. Their voices are heard through the keyboard and are posted on a virtual wall. All of this is a form of gossip.  I wonder has everyone forget another core lesson that our parents taught us. My Mother always told me. “If you don’t have anything nice to say about someone, don’t say anything at all.”  Seems like this too has been forgotten

   As I look back at my high school years I clearly remember a poster that I had hanging on my bedroom wall. The picture was that of a seagull soaring high in a richly blue sky.  The caption on the bottom read:

  “I shall pass this way but once.  Any good therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now, for I shall not pass this way again.”…..Anonymous

 Simply put this is the Golden Rule Part II. 

 Many years ago those words resonated with me, and today they still do.  They are a natural extension of the Golden Rule. I believe that both men that are vying to occupy the Office of the President of the United States, or anyone for that matter running for a political office, live their lives by these words.  Why else would they open themselves to intense scrutiny and personal attacks if they did not have the desire to make positive differences in people’s lives?  

  I realize that my thoughts on this page are idealistic and unrealistic.  Political campaigns are and will continue to make one candidate out to be better by slandering the other.  Bullying this way is simply the way that it is.  But think about it for a moment.  How would our world be different if we moved just a few inches in the other direction? What if we slid the marker closer to the side of living by the Golden Rule than not? Could our lives possibly be better?  Would things be more peaceful? How would it be to live in a compassionate society opposed to one of verbal attacks? Maybe instead of twisting one another’s thoughts and words we could walk along a common path of creating a society that works towards shared goals and does not define ourselves by our differences.  What if we lived from the heart instead of the head…..Think about it.  Can you imagine?

Reflections......

While in Montana for the writing retreat I loved witnessing the dawn of each new day. It was a sacred time, a peaceful time, one of renewal and hope. At home I have little time to notice the birth of a day.  I am always too busy preparing for it.  There are breakfasts to be made, lunches to be packed, clothes to be ironed and buses to catch.  With all of these obligations and tasks at hand there is little, well, really no time to watch the earth awaken and revive from her slumber.

  My Montana mornings were different.  I would pour my cup of coffee and head to the lakeside dock with the intention of greeting the new day.  My cold hands would be warmed as I wrapped them around the ceramic mug full of steaming hot aromatic liquid.  As I sat upon the cool damp dock I watched as the mist traveling upward from the mug mixed with the rising dew from the lake.  Hot versus cold, dark versus light, night versus day,   Opposing forces melding into one, they too were unified. And as the sun ascends higher the day begins.

  On these silent and peaceful mornings  I gazed upon the trees in the distance and I noticed that they were replicated on the surface of the smooth glass like lake.  The only thing separating the mirror images was the cloudy mist that was rising. Ah, a life parallel.  When we reflect on our lives; where we have been what we have experienced and where we have come from there is always a cloudy part, the unclear section. These are the times in our lives where we experience uncertainty, disarray and confusion. In retrospect we question our life’s mist.  What if we made a different choice or moved in a different direction?  How would our lives be different from the here and now?  We can only imagine what could have been. All we know is what is. This is our reality.

  Maybe it is my age that bubbled all of these feelings to the surface.  When you are younger you just live…you are, and you breathe in each moment. Now with each year that is punched in your birthday dance card, you count, you look back. Thoughts like, “How did I get here so fast?” And “Wasn’t it just yesterday?” become common place.  The face staring back at you in the morning mirror has more wisdom and wrinkles than you care to remember.  In your mind you are still twenty five full of ambition, drive and enthusiasm.   Well, I still do have that drive and enthusiasm; it just moves at a different pace.  Ambition has taken on a whole new look. Her story has changed. 

  This week I was reminded of my past steps.  My college roommate who was a life line sent by the Universe for me, lost her Grandmother. Nana was ninety seven when she departed this earth She was what you would call, a really, really good egg! Not only did she make a wicked chicken salad but her chocolate chip cookies were to die for.  It never mattered how many pieces the postal service delivered them in.  They always tasted wonderful! Their sweetness brightened our taste buds and souls each and every time.  You know why?  It was because they were crafted with love, pure and intentional love. Nana’s smile was wide as her hugs. Her eyes always lively, her laugh was engaging and real, just like her.  Nana was truly an angel that walked on this earth among us.

  And so all of this got me thinking, reflecting upon where I have come from and where I am going. The simple difference between life and death is a breath; a simple single breath. It is something that we all take for granted. Breath is always expected to be there for us, but in the next moment, without warning it may cease. Lack of breathing may signify life versus death but how deeply we breath in each moment is the difference between experiencing life fully or not at all.  Truly breathing in and living fully within each moment is the difference between being hollow versus whole. Our fuel is our breath. It is our currency.  Remembering to inhale deeply, fully and live each moment for what it purely is and has to offer is amazing. It is within this space we discover our place and purpose.  Breathe in each and every experience.  Let it gently whisper to your soul, travel the path and share the lesson.  There are times that we are both students and teachers. Some days we are learning and other days we are teaching. Each step we take is choreographed.  Within the reflections are stories, experiences and lessons. Some are joyous others are not.  Embrace each of your reflections for what is was and brought to your life,  or at the very least enjoy the view!  

 

 

The Gifts Within Discomfort.

I gave myself a gift, a wonderful gift. It did not come from Macy’s, Tiffany’s or Target. It was not wrapped in shiny paper nor tied with a bow.  Rather it was born from my desire to simply be more. This year I turned fifty. I told my husband I did not want a birthday party nor did I need a gift.  What I wanted was to attend a writing retreat.  As I travel into the next stage of my life I want to learn more about the craft that has captured my interest and given me purpose. 

  When I saw that Laura Munson, the New York Times bestselling author of “This Is Not The Story You Think It Is…A Season of Unlikely Happiness” was conducting a September writing retreat in Montana I knew that this was where I was going. I loved her story.  She shared it from the most vulnerable and rawest place within herself. She is poetic and courageous in both her writing and her life.  I have read her book three times and have gifted a dozen or so copies to people who could benefit from the message.  In hindsight, it was purely through divine intervention that I was acceptance into this retreat.

   As I was making my plans I decided to travel to Whitefish Montana a few days prior to the retreat.  The likelihood of me ending up in Montana again is remote, so I carved out a few more days, booked the flight and reserved a room.

  The first few days I was free to explore.  I just drove. If something caught my eye or captured my heart I stopped.  I sat along a river bank and listened to the water’s chatter as it traveled to places unknown.   I hiked under a sunshine shadowed path in Glacier National Park and with each step I took I inhaled in the rich scent of the cedar trees. I felt the cushiony softness of the earth buoy me from under my feet.  I sat on a piece of driftwood on the shore of Two Medicine Lake. Yearning for connection I placed my hands in the cool water and lay them upon the turquois, mustard and amber colored rocks that blanket the lake bottom. In that moment I knew that I was connected to something larger.  And in each of these experiences I was present, totally present.  Peacefulness filled me.

 The retreat began on Wednesday.  Check in time was four o’clock.  I had a few more hours to explore. Stillwater State Park allowed me to soak in a little more of Montana’s mystique. Also on my agenda was to have a hearty lunch.  Vegan food is the fare for the next four days and I don’t know what to expect.  Remember to breathe and simply relax. Flawlessly I follow my instructions.

 Upon my arrival at the Walking Lightly Ranch I was immediately greeted by a strong and able bodied man who generously carried my overweight suitcase to my room.  What you first notice about David is not his strength but his smile.  It says welcome before he even utters a word.   And welcome I felt.  I settled in and ventured toward the main house to meet my fellow retreaters.

  So far five of us had arrived. We had traveled from South Dakota, Colorado, Massachusetts and two of us from New York.  We began to share our life stories and what has gotten us to this point. The women are open and compassionate.  I say to myself, “This is going to be fine”.

  As additional retreaters arrive the cycle of introductions continues. The names and faces begin to meld.  With each new participant we introduce, and re-introduce ourselves.  As we circle around I carve another name and story into my mind. There is one more New Yorker in the group along with women from Oregon, Washington, San Francisco and Hawaii. It is a light night, a fun night. No nervousness just connection. Exhausted from our travels we retire and ready for the activity that has drawn each of us here, writing.     

 Through the night I toss, I turn and I turn, I toss!  It is not because the bed is nothing more than a futon mattress upon a platform, but because my mind is racing.  It is 5:13 a.m., I am unable to sleep and seeking advice I text my dear intuitive friend about my feelings and misgivings.  She is an early riser. I know that in New York time she should be awake.

 Class is about to start and I have not heard back from my friend. “Damn, she must be busy”. I think.  With nothing left to do I slither into class hoping to go unnoticed. Insecure, raw, underprepared, in over my head and scared; at this moment these are the words that describe me best.  I have never belonged to a writers group, nor have I have attended a writing workshop. I just share my thoughts in a blog. What the HELL was I thinking when I decided to fly to Montana for a retreat with a New York Times Best Selling Author?

 By trade I am a bean counter, an accountant a controller.  I exist in a world of equality and balance.   Without fail the debits always equal the credits.  We analyze all aspects of a situation before proceeding. People speak of creative accounting, but in reality there is little flexibility.  Within numbers everything must be in synch and balanced.  At this retreat balance takes on a different meaning.

  Class begins:

  9:34 a.m.  My mind is racing. “What was I thinking? Really?  A writing retreat, glamorous in theory, and painfully frightening in reality!  Yes this was the fiftieth birthday gift I gave to myself.  I didn’t want a party I wanted an experience.  Really, what the HELL was I thinking? Right now I could use one of those stiff drinks that would have been served at my birthday party.” 

 9:40 a.m. We each have to write down the first few words or phase that comes to our mind.  Flying away, that is mine. Maybe because this is what I long for right now, flight.  Each phrase is folded and placed into a bowl. I just wish that at this moment I could climb on the back of one of those squawking geese that are swimming on the lake and fly back to New York. 

 9:43 a.m.  A timed writing exercise! I have ten minutes to write a story about a subject pulled from that bowl of prompts.   Yellow Dog.  Really? Great I am not an animal person.  Especially dogs.  The dogs in my life have appointed roles. I borrow them for a period of time. I have a Thursday night dog at a spiritual based class that I attend and a Thanksgiving dog that belongs to my sister.  Shit!  I spend the first three minutes of the exercise calming my nerves and thinking about how little I have to say on this subject. 

   9:46 a.m.  I know that I have to write something.  Each person MUST read aloud what they wrote. Breathe, I remind myself, breathe. With each breath I calm myself just a little bit more.  My fingers touch the key board and I begin.  I have an idea. I write a few words then a few more.  Before you know it I have two paragraphs.  I am just about done with the third when time is called. Whew!  It is done ….but it is shitty!

  I am not a writer that moves to the hands of time.  My writing process is just that, a process.  I have an idea.  I mull it around. I examine the different angles. Then I go out for a walk to clear my head and connect with nature.  This is my practice and my meditation.  My thoughts are nurtured.  I let them simmer.  I allow the flavors to develop. Simmer, season and stir.  That is what I do.  I am not a quick thought, fast paced put it in the microwave for five minutes and wait to see how it tastes type of writer. Well, not at least, until this moment.

 As the sharing begins I am stunned, amazed and yes, just in plain jaw dropping awe.  These women are quick witted and talented.  They feel deeply.   Their voices are strong.  They are clear and sure of where they are on the page.  WOW, simply, WOW, and I think to myself, “I am so screwed!”

 Retreat, yes I am on one and that is exactly what I want to do. Retreat.  Retreat back into a place of comfort and safety. 

  The truth is, as unsure of myself that I am at this moment; deep within I know that there is no other place I would rather be. I am sitting here in Montana consumed with anxiety and yet fully supported by my fellow retreaters and teacher. If I was in New York I would be at work sitting behind my desk and thinking that there has got to be more to life than this.  Comfort has taken on a new meaning.

 But the question continues to echo in my mind, “What I was thinking by taking this trip?”

  The truth is that I was not thinking.  I was listening. I was listening to my heart. It told me I needed to go to Montana. I needed time for me. I needed to look deeply within and stir up those things in my life that were neither making sense nor working. And in the beauty and silence that surrounded me it was safe to face those questions and issues. There were many lessons waiting for me under the big Montana sky.

  In addition to the writing other activities that connect the mind, body and soul are offered. You could hike, take a yoga class or work with a wonderfully intuitive horse woman. I had hiked my first few days in Montana so I choose the last two activities. Both are totally out of my comfort zone.

  In her book Laura writes of a dear friend who owns a ranch.  It is where she boards her horse. While in Montana I was blessed to meet the woman that Laura wrote about. One of my favorite quotes from the book was spoken by Bobbi, the horse woman.  She said.  “People who deal in the heart don’t see fences.”   She may consider herself a horse woman or whisperer. She is not only both of these, but a communication expert and a kindred spirit.  I wish that Colleges and Universities issued degrees based upon a curriculum focused on Bobbi’s knowledge. Our world would be a better place if they did.

  When you work with Bobbi there are no boundaries just open spaces in which to connect. With each one of her instructions and nuggets of wisdom the fences that I grew accustomed to, the ones that came from the deepest place within me simply dissolved.

 It is funny how things happen and all for a reason. Upon my return from my work on the ranch I received a text from my intuitive friend that I had desperately reached out to earlier in the day.  She had not received my message until recently.  Graciously she offered me some advice.  After that text there were two identical messages from her.  The duplication told me that the thought was important. It read:

“And one more thing.  Do you trust Laura?  If you do, then she knows what she’s doing.  And she picked You.” 

  Yes I do trust Laura.  That simple phrase summed it up.  It all comes down to trust and belief.  I believe in myself and trust the journey.

  With each passing moment I lived into the experience. I disregarded my feeling of inadequacy and listened intently to each instruction given and each piece read.  I learned not only about the craft but about resilience. As humans we possess the innate ability to adapt to circumstances, reason, gather strength and move forward.  

  On the last night of our retreat after the official agenda was complete we moved into a place of giddiness, laughter, and song.   A let your hair down and the good times roll kind of time. It was the silly kind of childhood fun that memories are made of. I will carry the laughter of that night within my heart for years to come.

  Our last few hours together were spent around a roaring outdoor fire.  Many shared their writings.  Each was wonderfully crafted and born from the deepest places within. One woman wrote a poem called “Metamorphosis”.  It was about our shared experience.  I listened intently and was in awe of the talent and bravery within that circle. I found it ironic that we were sitting around a fire.  The rising and flickering flames before us served as a reminder that a fire had been ignited and a passion rekindled within each one of us.

  With exhaustion setting in and travel plans looming it was time to call it a night.  Each of retreated to our own rooms to relax, write and pack. The moon was full and its light was shining through my window.  I could simply not stay inside.  I grabbed a jacket a glass of wine and walked to the lake. I stood on the dock and deeply breathed in the cool clear air and exhaled. It was silent.  Everything was totally still.  There was not a single sound coming from the lake not even the sound of the water lapping against the dock could be heard. The crickets were absent. The moon weaved between the clouds. You could still see their puffy whiteness brought to life by the glow of the moon light.  A peaceful, thoughtful, stillness embraced me. I was safe. I was whole.  It is in this space that questions are answered and ideas are born.

 As the moon’s rays reflected upon the lake, I reflected upon my experience. I thanked the talented and brave woman who traveled this path along with me. In a little over three days we shared lots of laughter, many tears and the desires that reside deep within our hearts. I am grateful for their sisterhood.  I thanked the horse whisper and the yoga instructor.  Each challenged me to dig a little bit deeper within myself. I thanked the staff who so lovingly cared for us during our stay. I thanked Laura who held a safe space for each of us to create, discover and grow. And I thanked the gentleman who guided me here. Without his whispers I would not have made the trip. 

 During this retreat I put all of me out there.  Whether it was in the classroom, in the horse paddock or on the yoga mat, I decided to live each moment fully, and not to retreat to a place of security and comfort. Real growth does not come from a place of comfort.  There may be safety in avoidance but empowerment in challenge.  I am grateful for my place of discomfort. Within it I have discovered many gifts.