Faith

I’ve been thinking about faith recently. I am neither the first nor the last person to have these thoughts, to come to these conclusions. It seems to me that all defensiveness – and by that I mean all the ways we are on guard against the word and behaviors of others and ourselves – stems from a lack of faith. I don’t refer specifically to faith in God. Faith in anything. Faith in God, Mother Nature, Chi, magic and fairies, yourself. Faith as in believing in something even when you have no good reason to believe in that something. Faith in something simply because it creates a better story.

On Faith and Reason is a wonderful series by Bill Moyers consisting of a series of interviews with authors, scientists, religious figures discussing the nuanced relationship between Faith and Reason. I believe it is Margaret Atwood who describes the book Life of Pi – truly an incredible read. This idea of “a better story” is perhaps the key element. I will say no more here so that you can enjoy this marvelous story for yourself.

I watch people around me, I watch myself, trying to control things, people, events. I watch them (myself) create stress in these attempts - attempts to control that stem from the belief “It’s wrong for things to be different than I think they should be.” Is that the story they (I) choose? How much control do we think we actually have? Is it a good story that brings joy and ease to our lives? Is it really the only story we can imagine?

If you ever start digging around in your thoughts you might find that many, many of these control-needing beliefs stem from a desperate need to prove oneself lovable and worthy. What makes that so universal? More to the point, what makes the belief that one is not lovable and worthy, that one needs to prove one’s lovability and worth and be reassured of those traits, so universal?

Religions are based on faith. Faith in something beyond reason. And that faith comes with an assurance that we are lovable and worthy. We are Good Enough. Someone or something has got our back, believes in us. And from that faith in something greater comes that knowledge, that deep understanding that fills our desperate hunger, comes faith in ourselves. And with that all the suffering and pain, distance and isolation that grows from our stories disappears. There is no need to prove our worth. We know it.

I’m no expert on world religions, there may be some based directly in belief in oneself. The ones I know of are more accurately based in the belief in oneself as divine, as part of something greater, or as one blessed by something greater.

The belief in something, without Reason, that makes a better story is where I believe true peace and ease of living begins. What story do you want to live? What’s your Tiger?

Fumbling

A friend of mine teased me the other day. She was explaining how she enjoyed our conversations, how she likes tossing questions at me just to see how I’ll respond. She appreciates my collection of skills and perspectives and loves to see what combination I’ll use to approach any particular issue.

To be honest, I love that sort of thinking and conversation too. I love when she asks something about human nature, or her experience or whatever, that seems to come from nowhere. I love tossing it around with her, looking at it this way and that. I could do it all day. I enjoy it, but am at a loss to appreciate what she sees as my skills – it’s just what I do. I even enjoyed the thought-provoking tease: “...unless of-course you're dealing with your Self and then we all become the same...fumbling.” Yes, fumbling is such a perfect word to describe how we try to understand ourselves. I can have many wonderful tools for exploring the other, but it’s ever so hard to get a good look at oneself. How can you possibly get enough distance, enough perspective on yourself?
I’ve thought about this quite a bit. Such an intriguing problem. I think that one way to get perspective on oneself is to step aside from ego, from self-consciousness, and see with the eyes of another. What I mean is, if you can actually listen to and hear someone talk about you, how they see you, without denying or diminishing or arguing, and let that sink in, you just might find a way to incorporate some of that perspective.

In fact that’s what I had done when she responded with a thoughtful, loving perspective of me, and included that keen insight that I have called a tease. I had asked for her to explain an earlier comment that embarrassed me in some ways as she was admiring skills of mine that I couldn’t see.

We are simply too close to ourselves to truly appreciate our own skills and marvelous traits. They’re too easy for us, so we don’t value them. This same friend doodles the most amazing doodles. Beautiful works of art in simple pen on paper. The photo above is a piece of one of these doodles that I asked to keep. To her, it’s nothing. To me, it’s magic. Because it comes so easily to her she dismisses it’s value.

We are all like that. But when we listen and honor the words of others, allow them to sink in, allow ourselves to hear the truth from others, we find ourselves both humbled and grateful. And we find ourselves fumbling a little less.

Perspective

I had the extreme pleasure of having brunch with friends I had lost touch with for twenty years. You may wonder what I mean by “friend” if I lost touch for twenty years, but they were dear friends from high school. Two graduated two years ahead of me, the third, one year a head of me. That was the beginning of the disconnect.

They went off on their fabulous adventures to college and beyond, finding their place in world while I did the same. That time of life is so immensely transitional. In many cultures around the world there are ceremonies and rituals that help guide adolescents into adulthood, into their place in society. Certainly those cultures are based on smaller, tightly-knit communities that are greatly involved with development of every individual through every phase of life. I think those cultures were onto something really important.

In my transition I lost touch with my adolescent friends. Maybe it needed to happen as part of my journey – leaving behind that which defined me and creating my own definition. Now twenty years later it was a joy to sit down with them, meet their families, recognize just how wonderful we were then and how much we’ve grown since then.

Perhaps what surprised me the most was what incredible partners they had found for their own journeys. Their spouses are people whose friendship I would treasure. Why would I think it would be otherwise? I don’t think I did think it would be otherwise. I just didn’t know in which directions they had grown.

Interestingly I undertook one of those rites of passage earlier this spring – a vision quest. The centerpiece, but certainly not the sole meaning, is a four day, fasting solo in the wilderness. It’s designed to strip away external definitions and allow self-knowledge to emerge with clarity. The solo is contained within a time of preparation (both alone and as a group) and incorporation (which seems to last a very long time as the intense experience sinks in and mixes within you).

I was discussing some of this with my new-old friends and the question was posed: how much of your interpretation of your experiences is colored by the preparation you received? The weather played a significant role in my quest and feels to be a critical piece for me to understand. The four-directions teachings of North American tribes cast my experiences with the weather in one light. The astrological interpretation sheds another light. Meteorology, the language I know better than the others, adds yet another light.

And that, I believe, is the key. Any one of these perspectives, on their own, allows a particular view and understanding of my experiences. Each offers something unique and profound to my interpretation. Together these various perspectives, various lights, create a much richer, dynamic understanding.

But fundamentally, it's my story to write. I can tell the story as a victim or as a hero. I can find great meaning or great nothing. I can walk away disappointed or inspired. I can choose only one viewpoint, one light from which to tell my story or allow as many as I can find to weave themselves all into something more complex.

I suppose I need to consider what feelings I want to carry with me from my story, from my life. What perspectives do I want to accept or reject as I try to understand the experiences of my life and tell my story in a way that is most satisfying to me? I'm looking for the story that brings me pleasure, challenge, love, expansiveness, connection, hope and inspiration. And I'll take any perspective that brings more of that.

Technology & Connection

I recently completed the certification process to become an official Martha Beck Life Coach after a nine month course. The final step in certification is to coach Martha herself. I don’t think that I would be breaking any confidences to say we had a lovely, energizing conversation about technology. This tapped into a theme that’s been running through my life: when is technology an aid to connection and when is it an hindrance?

I’m not saying anything new to point out the increasing rapid pace of development and introduction of new technologies and new uses for various technologies. Land-line phones are one of the lowest levels of technology that we take for granted. Cell phones with texting, camera, even internet capabilities are everywhere. Computers on which you can email, blog, Skype, IM, Tweet, be LinkedIn, Facebook and whatever else are easily carried with you wherever you go.

But at what point are we spending more time interacting through the technology than we are interacting without any? I see teens sitting side-by-side texting, but not talking with each other. I know people who Tweet all day, even during dinner with friends – actual people sitting with them, ready to chat. I don’t get it.

I think each of these modalities has a use, a way to connect people across the world, a way to make the world smaller in some sense, a way to expand and strengthen our tribes. But I also see the potential they have for disconnecting people.

I love a solitary walk in the woods. I also love a lengthy, rambling, thoughtful conversation with a friend. If I can’t meet them in person, a phone call will do. If that’s difficult for whatever reason, email will suffice. In fact email is great for setting up dinner dates with friends. We’re both busy and sometimes getting us both on the phone at the same time is difficult. Presto! I send an email and she can reply at her convenience. Then we get to connect even more over a meal.

I IM with my husband when he’s traveling. We’ve found that to be an effective way to communicate when he’s settling in after a day of flying and I’m trying to get through dinner time/bath time/bed time. We still have things we want to share and discuss, but our schedules don’t mesh. To be honest, we sometimes IM within our own house. When a topic gets too charged and civil discussion breaks down removing tone of voice and body language can allow the conversation to continue. The format also allows both of us to speak our thoughts fully without being interrupted. For us, IM technology allows distance (in several ways) and results in a stronger connection. Of course, while I’m IM’ing (is that a verb?) through the evening routine, I’m less connected to the people – my children – in front of me.

Obviously I also blog when the spirit moves me. Friends and family, maybe even some strangers, can connect to me through reading my somewhat random thoughts. Perhaps they get some insight into me (I know I get some insight into me), perhaps they feel more connected because they can identify with something I’ve said and so can feel less alone.

But I can’t figure out why I would Tweet or be LinkedIn. Not yet. Maybe someday I’ll find a way that those technologies strengthen the connections I value in ways that are meaningful to me. I resisted Facebook but joined last fall. I have reconnected with long lost friends and learned a bit more about new ones. Overall, I can see benefits, but I also feel the slippery slope. It would be too easy to spend all day poking around, finding more friends, taking quizzes, posting updates. I suppose it’s just like Google news headlines or YouTube. Easy to get sucked into, but if you find the right balance it enhances your life.

If I have finite time and finite energy each day, how do I want to use it? Which connections are most important to me? Which connections nurture me? Which ones enrich my life? As always I think the balance is dynamic – shifting day to day, year to year, and certainly person to person. So I'll experiment now and again with each new possibility and keep adding tools of connection as I find them useful and fulfilling.

Cell Phone Thoughts

I was in that last minute rush of gathering the almost-forgotten things as I headed out the door on my way to a week of camping in Vermont with my family. Well, I had part of my family – I was taking Dee Dee and Little Dudely a day before my husband would join us with Pookie. The advance team was to set up camp: two “bubba” tents that in theory would sleep a combined 10 people, our kitchen/dining room picnic table and so on. We needed to get settled so Dee Dee would be ready for her camp to start the next morning at 9a.

Damp would be a way to describe the weather. Always threatening to rain, rarely actually doing it. Drizzle, sure. Humidity, yup. Rain? Not often. So who was I to complain? OK, the one bout of rain we did get in our first three days was only five minutes long but happened as out tent was up and we were trying to get the rainfly on. It’s hard not to laugh.

That bit of rain, happening so early, was enough to send me running to the store to purchase a canopy for our picnic table. I had intended to do without cover or use a tarp to shelter the table, but there simply wasn’t a useful arrangement of trees for us. The canopy however, was perfect.

In fact, most of the week was perfect in many ways. Dee Dee loved camp and camping. Little Dudely entertained himself with fire and sticks and explorations. Both of them went so far as to admit they rather enjoyed not having TV or computers for a week. Pookie, on the other hand, was a good sport. She's not one for camping but gamely sat by the fire and made Dad sing songs to his ukulele - Brown Bear, Brown bear, please. Animals only. Now only colors. Now just the noises. Dad was a good sport too granting all her wishes.

Anyway, as I reached for my backpack and purse and such on my way out the door I saw my cell phone still charging on my desk. “Man, it would be nice if that thing was ever fully charged” I laughed. It’s my fault it isn’t ever charged. I never plug it in. I think on some level I don’t really value it enough to bother.

But that’s not why I laughed. My cell phone is a reflection of me. Wouldn’t it be nice if I was ever fully charged? I never plug myself into nurturing, regenerative activities. I think on some level I don’t really value myself enough to bother. What’s the deal with that? What would life look like if I did value myself enough to keep myself fully charged? Why is it so hard for me to do that?

Arrogance

I was in Phoenix recently. What an incredibly different natural environment from home. Around here we have rocks and water and wind and trees. At this time of year things are lush and green. But not in Phoenix. At least not out in the un-landscaped terrain. Out there there are rocks and wind and heat. No water. The plants are far from lush, but they are hardy.

Not being much of a traveler I don't adjust to timezone changes very easily. The change from standard to daylight savings is more than enough for me. Three timezones... let's just say I was up early. I went out for a walk on the trails by my hotel on my first morning. It was cool, if you call 70F cool, pre-dawn. The light was slicing across the terrain as the sun rose. The colors there are so very different. More orange, red, brown. Not much green. You can see the trails off in the distance - no trees blocking line of sight. I wanted to walk forever. Not so much to get anywhere in particular, more to just walk out into the raw and alien landscape. To explore it. To experience it.

I followed a trail up a small hill and it allowed me long views in most directions. I stood, staring at the distant mountains. The picture above has Phoenix in the foreground. The peaks at the left edge are contained in the Phoenix South Mountain Park. The highest peaks in that range are around 2000 ft. The low peaks in the center are a separate, closer, unnamed range, topping out around 1350 ft. The vast range rising in the background is the Sierra Estrella Wilderness. The highest peaks are 4300+ ft. (I didn't know any of this until I got home played around with Google maps and so on.)

I stood in awe of the Earth. Vistas like this are rare in New England. Only from the highest peaks, and only if the weather cooperates can you see tens of miles. And there simply aren't ranges of this magnitude. I was flooded with expansive, marvelous feelings. And then I laughed.

I thought of all the people - over 4 million in the Phoenix metro area, never mind those all over the Earth - living among the structural marvels of engineering. We build houses with running water in the desert. We protect ourselves from the heat and wind with wall and windows. We walk among our buildings feeling proud of human ingenuity, dwarfed by our constructs, victorious over nature. And I laughed.

Look. The city is reduced to a thin strip of light yellowy-tan before the massive mountains rising solidly in the distance. The arrogance of mankind! We worry that we are destroying nature. How could we? Our mightiest achievements are dwarfed by those of the Earth. The eternal Earth.

However, we are destroying the kind of nature we need to survive. The Earth gives us all we need to survive so long as we live in harmony. Our lack of respect, our arrogance has led us into dangerous territory. The Earth provides, nurtures us even, so long as we take care of it. Every traditional culture knew, knows this.

Our culture is dangerously separated from nature, from an understanding of our place on Earth. It is in moments like the one I experienced staring out over this scene that we reconnect. And we can reconnect in far less majestic scenes. We can understand life in our backyards simply by stopping to observe, to notice all that there is. All the enormous beauty and resilience. We can cultivate our respect for nature in a simple moment of awareness.

To take care of ourselves we must take care of the Earth.
To nurture ourselves we must nurture others.

Role Playing

Yesterday I got be a treasure hunter, triage nurse, surgeon and plumber all in the matter of two hours. Let's just say that I was ready for bed at the end of that.

We spent the afternoon at the birthday party for a four year old friend. It was the second of what looks to be four unseasonably warm days and many attendees were nursing sunburns from the first of those days. We're having July weather in April. And I refuse, out of good old New Englander stubbornness, to turn on the AC in April. But that is neither here nor there...

After we got home I asked Dee Dee and Little Dudely to put their bicycles away. While running up and down our (long) gravel driveway, Dee Dee's shell bracelet broke. She returned to the house distraught and thus began my time as a treasure hunter. Just try to find a dozen small shells on a 300' stretch of gravel driveway, I dare you.

Upon the successful completion of that adventure we returned home for bath time. Once upstairs Dee Dee declared that her knee hurt and that she was unable to walk on it. So she hobbled around to demonstrate. I considered my options. No obvious cause like some sort of trauma, late Sunday night (no options but the ER), nothing making it worse. She was deemed low priority for the moment. Bath time was more pressing.

Next Little Dudely emerged from his room after dressing for bed holding out his hand: "What's this?" he asked pointing at his finger. A splinter. I sighed and retrieved the tweezers and a pin. After carefully explaining what I was going to do Little Dudely allowed me to extract the splinter as gently as I could. He even bravely held a light for me. Then we went and found the perfect bandaid.

When I was done with Little Dudely's snuggle I went to check on Dee Dee who was finishing her getting-ready-for-bed routine in the bathroom. As I opened the door she gasped and burst into tears. She had just dropped one of her earrings into the sink... I retreated downstairs to gather myself.

That was the first time recently that I've been grateful that my nose has been mostly plugged from an endless series of colds (I'm finishing up two months of sniffling and all those other symptoms). What I could smell as I removed the trap from the plumbing was beyond foul. Not fully understanding the quantity or quality of muck I had in the trap, I dumped it into another (plugged) sink. That's when I realized that my only hope for recovering the earring was to stick my hand into that putrid mess and swish around in it. The earring is now soaking in an antiseptic bath.

After reassembling the plumbing and declaring my success to Dee Dee I returned to the office to look up knee pain on the internet. I went back upstairs to evalute Dee Dee's knee. Earlier she had been unable to straighten it and experienced more pain with her foot flexed than pointed. As I got ready to ask her to test her knee I saw her amble easily across the room with Pip in her arms. Huh? Whatever was wrong had fixed itself - at least for the time being.

All I knew was that I was done with the trials of the evening. I hoped.