It’s easy to get discouraged, sad and even depressed about all the violence and hate we see in the news and on social media. It seems overwhelming and horrible. So many people are suffering…deeply suffering. Wounded, exhausted, enraged. When I start down this path…when I let in only the struggle of the world…things get too dark.

I have to remember…there is not only violence and hate. There is also love and understanding. It’s just not quite as headline grabbing. But it’s happening all the time. Sometimes it’s right in front of me. Other times, I have to look for it. But it’s there. I promise.

Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not. And don’t let yourself believe the worst. I don’t want to live that way. I want to know that good happens, that love is stronger than hate, that peace is possible. I want to walk around like this.

Dark is only dark because there is not yet light. I want to be the light…as often as I can.

Paula

Fall is my favorite season. After a sultry, humid summer I am so ready for cool, crisp air. I can feel it enter my lungs. Breathing is refreshing and invigorating. I feel alive…I mean alive!!!

I want to feel that way all the time…alive, I mean. The cool air makes it easy, but I don’t have to wait for fall. I don’t have to wait for the weather to be just right. I want to feel alive for my life. Don’t you?

It’s all about being present to whatever life is right now. When it’s easy and when it’s hard. When I am full of enthusiasm and when I am exhausted. When I am alone and when I am not. When I am closed off and when I am engaged. When I am clickety-clacking along and when I am balled up in a corner.

When I am on my deathbed I want to be able to say…I showed up. I was there for my life. All of it. And it was good. It was a good life. Because I was there. I didn’t hide. It was real and it was mine. It was my life.

This cool air is a reminder for me. I can choose to be alive…really alive…no matter what.
Grateful

This is worth sharing. A great reminder that this is my life and I make the choices. I do my best when I’m awake and take responsibility for me.

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
by Portia Nelson

Chapter One of My Life. I walk down the street. There’s a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost. I am helpless. It isn’t my fault. It still takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two. I walk down the same street. There’s a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I’m in the same place! But it isn’t my fault. And it still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter Three. I walk down the same street. There’s a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it there. I still fall in. It’s a habit! My eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.

Chapter Four. I walk down the same street. There’s a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.

Chapter Five. I walk down a different street.

Thank you Portia Nelson.
Paula

There is so much going on in the world that grabs my attention…and not in a good way. If I focus too much on all the stuff that is out of my control…which is pretty much everything…I can feel exhausted and sad. There is something very powerful and reinvigorating to see, really see, what is right in front of me.

I went to the car wash on Sunday afternoon. It was a picture-perfect day and I was happy to take on this chore. As I rode through the automatic brushes and soap dispensers and water sprays and hot wax and finally the blow dryers…I thought about how it was when my Dad took us into one…way back in the 60’s. Back then, the car stayed still while all the water and soap and brushes whirled around. While I remembered feeling a bit scared not being able to see what was happening when the soap covered the windows, I also felt happy with the memory.

My Dad’s been gone for more than six years now. It felt good to be reminded of this experience.

Out I drove into a space to wipe down the windows and doors and to use the vacuum. Right there beside the rear passenger tire was a bright penny. I smiled and picked it up and said to myself…thanks Dad, I didn’t know you were listening.

Paying attention.
Paula

I’ve been reading a book by Pema Chodron called When Things Fall Apart. She wrote it in 1997. I have the 20th anniversary edition. Here is a quote from page 9. (Some of you know how slowly I can read a book!)

“…the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”

I’ve tried to solve many things in my life. I like looking for and implementing a solution. I think I’m pretty good at it. But this perspective…that things don’t really get solved…makes a lot sense to me. No matter how something appears to be solved…there will come a day when erosion happens or a bulldozer shows up or another idea overrides everything. Things are not solved…they evolve. And in order to evolve, there must be some sort of breakdown. In this language, a falling apart.

This doesn’t make me anxious…quite the opposite. Knowing that this is how life works helps me to be more at ease. It stops me from over planning…trying to make sure I cover all the bases so it all works out the way I want it to. It stops me from believing that I’m in control. It puts me in charge of just one thing: letting there be room for all of it to happen.

I like that. I can do that. You can do it. It takes practice. We just have to remember the truth. It’s all about coming together and falling apart. Laced through it all, the possibility for healing, for wholeness, for resting in ease.

Ah.
Paula

I read this quote in a daily email I get from Flying Edna.

“As much as I love words, they may not always be as necessay as I think they are.” Fia

I do love words. I write every week. I journal pretty much every day. Sometimes I write poetry. I write this blog, a Sunday message for Soul Center, birthday cards.  I like to deeply understand words…beyond their dictionary meaning. I want to use the right words to get my point across. To say words are important to me is an understatement.

This quote is an invitation for me to consider how necessary they really are. Sometimes I have a tendency to over-communicate…trying to be certain that the other person understands me completely. Is that always possible? Probably not. Other times I want to offer options and advice when what might be more useful is simply listening. And sometimes, I realize, my opinion is better just kept to myself.

Maybe there is something even more important than words. Or maybe just as important. This quote from Maya Angelou sums it up:

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

Still learning.
Paula

Many people in my life right now are dealing with hard stuff. What I mean by hard stuff is deep loss, sorrow, exhaustion, doubt and anxiety. People with broken hearts. Hopeless, frustrated and dread-filled. And there is nothing to be done about it. There is no ‘doing’ that can erase this heaviness.

In the heaviness, we feel like the rest of the world is passing us by. That somehow we are alone in the whole messiness of it…that no one could possibly understand. And that makes it feel even harder. Isolation is brutal.

But I am convinced the load we carry can be lightened. If we are willing to go to our center. If we are willing to sit still, breathe deeply and turn our full attention inward. Without judgment or stories…just stillness. I love this simple mantra: Peace be still. Peace be still.

It is in that very moment, at the very center of me, that all is well. In that very moment an ease, a miracle. In that breath…perfection. Peace be still.

And then it all vanishes, that elusive moment, and I am back in my heaviness…but somehow a bit lighter. I know I’ve been lifted by the Divine Itself. And now I can go another step. It’s all a reminder of the importance of this practice of going to center.  And too, the reminder of the very thin veil between me and God.

Grateful beyond words
Paula

I never know when it will happen. There is no planning or sitting down with pencil and paper. It’s kind of like life. You can’t really force things to happen. I’ve learned that life unfolds. Sometimes according to plan and most of the time…you just never know for sure.

I am happy there is enough room, enough space for this to happen once in a while. This poem is called Cicadas.

I like to listen to the cicadas
Gathered in the trees along Carolina Beach Road
Early in the morning.

That vibrating, screeching pulse
Talking in a foreign language
And more than one talking at the same time.

A single bird squawks loudly.
Does she understand the cacophony?
Wanting to weigh in?

Or is she annoyed
At the constant siren buzz
And want it to stop?

These sounds and stories
Riding with the window down
On the way to the auto repair shop.

Smiling.
Grateful.
Paula

I feel overwhelmed. It’s one of those times when I feel the weight of the world. There is so much trauma everywhere. People are suffering…immensely. From fires and floods and heat. From violence and persecution and starvation. And then, there is what is happening right here in our community. People are dying, some are recovering and others are lost. There is no shortage of people in need. And it feels heavy.

So, what to do? Good question, right? A better question…what is mine to do? I know I cannot alleviate the suffering of all people…or even all of those right here close to me. Or maybe no one. But there is something I can do…what is mine to do. In the midst of all that is…what is mine to do?

The weight begins to lift as I sit with this simple question. The answer comes from within. Wisdom speaks in a whisper. Do this…go there…sit still for a while…offer this…hold space. Listen, breathe, surrender. The answer always comes. Over and over again, I learn this simple truth. Go to the stillness and rely on what you hear and know from within.

Lighter. Wiser. Grateful.
Paula

Many times in my life I felt limited. There was only so far I could go or so much I could do. I felt boxed in, defeated, unworthy…in a word, stuck. It seemed the limitations were all the things outside of me I couldn’t control. They were what prevented me from achieving a goal or getting to where I wanted to be or having the life I wanted to have. Today I have a wider view.

Here is a quote from my Daily Zen Calendar by Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi: The feeling of limitation is the work of the mind.

Wow! This simple statement is very profound. I don’t know if I’ve ever really thought about the idea of limitation as a feeling. It is a shift to notice that limitation is not always physical, although it can be…but that it is also a feeling. I can be limited by obstacles in the physcal world, even in my physical body…and separately, I can feel limited. I can look at the obstacle and feel limitation.

I also have the choice to look at the obstacle and feel something else. Because the feeling of limitation is the work of my mind. And my mind is under my control. There may indeed be a physical obstacle, but I have the power to feel any feeling I choose. Isn’t that an empowering thought? With a physical obstacle staring you in the face you can choose whatever feeling you want to feel.

There really is no wrong way to feel. This quote reminded me I have a choice. I can work with my mind…steer it where I want to go. There may be a real limitation…but how I feel is up to me.

Working it.
Paula