Grateful No Matter What

Photo Credit: © 2016 Jonathan Foust                                                                                                  www.jonathanfoust.com

And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow

 the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?”

William Broyles Jr., Cast Away

It's the season of giving thanks in America. On the third Thursday of November, we gather with our families and friends, eat too much food, and settle into our tryptophan coma to watch football or plan our Black Friday shopping strategies. In these traditions, we celebrate abundance and relationship and take time to focus on remembering what is good in our lives. In my family, we always went around the table as we were settling in to eat, and each person named what they were thankful for . . . family, friends, a good jobs and financial stability, God, freedom, time off . . . those were the things that most often made the lists. The easy stuff.

At work this week, one of our celebrations of the holiday involved writing our own version of the gratitude list on a piece of paper to be displayed throughout the office. I admit that, in the wake of the presidential election just a couple of weeks ago, anxiety and fear have been at the forefront of my emotional landscape for the most part — so, even this small invitation to think about what I am thankful for felt difficult. After a couple of hours of sort of ignoring it, I finally picked up the marker and wrote, "All of it. Every. Single. Thing." A few days later, a co-worker was giving me a hard time. She said, "Really? Everything? So, that means you are grateful for Trump?"

Of course, my initial reaction to the comment was a rise of irritation with this person for what felt like an intentional jab at a still very open wound. I took some moments to let that settle before responding. In those moments, I came back to some recent wisdom from my friend and teacher, Tara Brach. She said, "Light often has to first peek out through the fog, creating strange shadows and mysterious shapes. And then, in surprisingly short time, the mists clear and reveal a brilliantly clear, bright day. It’s all beautiful, even the confusing, dreamy, disorienting parts." 

It's all beautiful.

It's so easy to practice gratitude when all is well. Of course we feel that expansion in our hearts when we experience the love of a child or dear friend, or when we buy our first home, or when we are rewarded and praised for a job well done. But what about when things are not going so well? What about when everything seems to go to hell and the world around us seems shadowy and confusing and even hostile?

That is the time, I think, that is most essential to dig down deep and find it. There is always something to acknowledge in our lives, even on the worst day. The most devastating and painful situations often bring the most spectacular blessings into our lives, if we can just hold on long enough for the fog to clear and reveal them. Even if there is nothing we can think of in this moment, we can be grateful for the truth of impermanence . . . the certainty that this, too, will pass.

Throughout my life, I have struggled with often debilitating depression, anxiety, post traumatic stress, and addiction. These versions of Mara (suffering) visit more often than I would like, though not nearly as often as they once did. I am convinced that this is directly related to my meditation practice and ongoing engagement on this spiritual path. Learning how to stay present in this moment has so deepened my ability to feel gratitude for all that is good in my life and trust in the notion that everything that expands my heart does not disappear just because I have been plunged into some temporary darkness - just as when the sun sets, it doesn't cease to exist, and it doesn't stop giving off light and heat. It will rise again. Every. Single. Time.

For me, gratitude has to be a very intentional practice. It starts with recognizing the love and goodness in my life every day — not just giving it a passing glance, but really seeing and acknowledging it by expressing it out loud, over and over. Reaching out to others and telling them what they mean to me. Giving from my abundance — whether it is money, or kindness, or time — turning around and offering to others what is so often and generously offered to me.  

When I do those things, my heart grows. I savor that feeling. I sit with it. I memorize it — how it feels in my body and how it feels in my soul. And then, on the dark days, when the sun disappears, I can dig down deep and bring it right back. And I do. Purposefully. With great intention. And I sit with that. And while I am sitting with that, I consider what the darkness might offer to me. What will be my takeaway when the sun peeks out again and the fog burns away? What am I learning here? How might this serve to awaken? Can I be grateful for this too? Can I be grateful, no matter what?

So back to my co-worker's question. Trump . . . Trump will pass. Not quickly, and not without significant damage, but he will. The gift of impermanence. And, in the meantime, I will likely be given opportunities that can only be afforded to me through fear and struggle and, as a result, I will grow. I can trust that. I will grow more compassionate, more determined, more resilient. So, yes — cause for gratitude. Even for Trump.

I wrote this on my last retreat - just a few thoughts I jotted down, actually, before the election and it is still very present in my heart:

If, at the end of my life, there is a story to be told, I hope it is that the last words I uttered were, "Thank You." The thing is, even though the journey is so often fucked up and heartbreaking and the road is so often just barely passable, like my teacher says, "It's all beautiful." All of it. And the conscious choice — the choosing over and over again — to just keep going, led me to exactly where I needed to be all along.

And so, this year, my Thanksgiving prayer: 

May all beings trust the light even when it is difficult to see.

May we feel safe in these days of uncertainty

May we take the time to remember love and peace

May we live in gratitude

For ourselves, and each other

May all beings awaken and be free

All That I Wish For...Updated for 2016

The holidays are upon us and, the frenzy has begun in the marketplace. All over the internet, I see videos of Black Friday shoppers gone amok — snatching the blenders and video game consoles out of each other's hands and throwing better blocks and holds than I see most Sundays watching pro football. If you are one of the brave souls that camps out, waits in line, and goes forth into the front lines of battle for this season's hottest items, I admire and respect your courage - but on my holiday wish list this year, you will not find anything you can buy in a store. Just a heads up . . . 

In the wake of losing my mom, I have spent the last year taking a hard look at what is important . . . what I am spending my time on. Grief conspires to steal energy, so the need to figure out where to place my limited resources has been of the utmost importance. What do I really need?  What do I really want? What do I really value? How do I really want to spend the limited time that I have left after the rent is paid and the food is bought? What I have discovered is that the most important and meaningful gifts cannot be found in a mall and are far too priceless to measure. So, I saw a blog on Elephant Journal recently about free gift ideas and was inspired to write out my holiday wish list.  Here it is, in no particular order of desirability :)

Quality Time: Presence instead of Presents. Of the list of ways people feel love that Gary Chapman looks at in his book The 5 Love Languages, quality time is the one that most resonates with me. If you want me to really feel your care, spending good, uninterrupted, undistracted time with me is the greatest gift of all. Put away your phone (texts included) and have a conversation with me, go for a walk with me, eat a meal with me, meditate with me, go to a museum with me. It's the time together that matters...not what we do with it.

Connect With Me: In my wallet, I have a number of tiny pieces of paper — each with a note from someone I love and admire. I take them out and read them often when I am feeling down, when my confidence is low, or when I just need a little something to help me remember the love in my life. At the time they were written, it is unlikely that the authors had any idea what they would come to mean to me or that their value in my heart would grow and grow and grow. Call me on the phone, send me a letter, write me a note, shoot me an email, send me a text. Let me know that I randomly entered your thought stream on any given day.  It doesn't have to be long or fancy.

Create Something for Me: I have so many creative and talented people in my life . . . people that write, people that sing and play instruments, people that paint, people that build, people that draw, people that photograph. One of my most anticipated holiday gifts each year is the card I get from a local photographer and good friend. Every year, his card is a picture that he has taken, and it is always stunning. You put your heart into what you create . . . give me that.

Cook for Me: A meal, or a snack. Cookies . . . leftovers. I love to cook, and I know how much heart I put into everything that I make — especially when I know I am going to share it with someone I care about. Again . . .  I'm not fancy. It can be a 6 course meal or a grilled cheese sandwich or celery sticks with peanut butter. It's not about the food, it's about the offering. You want me to not be hungry. That says "love" to me.

Encourage Me: The second most resonating "Love Language" for me is words of affirmation. Tell me what is good about me. Tell me what I contribute to your life. Much of the time, I feel like a total fuck up — so words that counter that are true gifts. I hang onto them, I cherish them, and I remember them when I need them. Inspire me to do something that I normally wouldn't do, motivate me to reach a goal that I may be falling short of, remind me that I am ok exactly as I am.

Save Me Time and Money: One of my biggest irritations in life is driving. If I ever get the opportunity to live in a place with really good public transportation, I am so there. Offer to drive when we go somewhere. Offer me a spot on your couch if you know I will be in your neck of the woods on my travels. Drop me off or pick me up at the airport. Send me coupon codes for online sites or stores that you know I love and use.

One of Your Treasures: I have a rock that I carry in my pocket all the time. It was given to me by someone important in my life. She didn't go out and buy it for me. She had it and loved it, and thought it might be useful to me when I needed something to help me feel safe and grounded, so she gave it to me. It's a simple trinket, but it reminds me of her care every time I look at it. And that is a true gift indeed.

Make a Donation: I am one of the most blessed people in the world. I have all I need - food, shelter, clothing, healthcare, an education, a pretty secure, well paying job — this makes me a minority on the planet. So many people are without the most basic of necessities. Look into your heart, and out into the world.  Find something that connects us as humans and give where there is need. Do it in my name, or do it in your own...or even as a memorial (I can't think of anything that would make my mom happier).  It doesn't matter — these holidays are a time to make a difference for others. Do that. Here is a website with some really great ideas to get you started:  http://gifts.rescue.org

There you have it - all of the things that make me smile the biggest. No matter what faith you practice or holiday you celebrate, this is a season to pause a little (I know, I know...so hard in the busyness of it all), slow down, and remember to connect with the love that we have in our lives.

May you be filled with the spirit of the holiday season, no matter your celebration.  

May the love of all things holy and sacred dwell in your heart.

May all beings everywhere know goodwill, joy, and peace.

Reincarnation

 

Crimson flower blooms

From gray ash in fields burned black

 This new life begins

Photo Credit: Roni Bintang 2013 All Rights Reserved

A Broken World

Photo Credit: Fiona McAlister. All Rights Reserved.
https://www.flickr.com/photos/fionamcallisterphotography/11004594054

It all just feels so broken
Shards of separation
Scattered sharp and dirty
Across the well-worn paths
Of those who tread there
Simply minding their business
Beggars and bankers
Standing in the streets
Crying out to the universe
“What has happened here?”
Royals and presidents
Shake their heads and
Wag their blaming fingers
Offering no solution at all
While the only god I can imagine
Looks out onto the world
And weeps bitterly
At what it has become

-cms 7/15/2016

Taking Refuge - Seeking Shelter in the Storm

When I go to a meditation retreat, one of the most meaningful parts of the retreat for me happens on the first evening - the ritual of Taking Refuge. After some opening remarks and instruction from the teachers in preparation for going into silence, the group chants together: 

Buddhaṃ śaraṇaṃ gacchāmi

Dhammaṃ śaraṇaṃ gacchāmi

Sanghaṃ śaraṇaṃ gacchāmi

I take refuge in the Buddha

I take refuge in the Dharma

I take refuge in the Sangha

The reciting of this vow always brings such a sense of peace to me, such a sense of being safe and at home. Since my very first retreat, these words have been my silent prayer as I take my seat and prepare for my daily sit.  

In these past few weeks, as the separation and violence in the world seem to be escalating to a fever pitch, I am finding myself in deep reflection about how taking refuge in the three jewels of Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha became a lifeboat for me, and how it continues to carry me to shore when the waves seem to crash too hard and fast for me to keep my head above the water.

I came to the dharma as a refugee. Devastated by a lifetime of trauma, loss, and addiction, I wandered around - lost, alone, and pretty hopeless - for years. My soul was completely unanchored and disconnected in an emotional landscape where I felt alien and unwelcome. I spent every waking minute trying to outrun the demons of my past that seemed to lurk around every corner, just waiting to devour me with the first misstep. My whole life revolved around a desperate and endless search for safety…a place to hide away my heart, rest my exhausted mind, and maybe catch my breath a little.

The door to the dharma opened to me on the internet…yes, on the internet. During a particularly rough period, I began seeing a new therapist. I had been making a few attempts at beginning a meditation practice, but was having difficulty sustaining it for very long. As soon as my body and/or mind would begin to relax, huge waves of panic and fear and, often, traumatic memory would rise up in the place of the constant protective tension that was my “normal.” I was not sleeping, was nearly disabled by depression and anxiety and, frankly, was having some pretty dark thoughts about just giving up entirely. One day, my new therapist recommended that I listen to a guided Metta meditation each day and sent me to Tara Brach’s website. That night, I followed along with the guided practice, which began with the image of the smile of the Buddha, as I whispered to myself, “May I be filled with loving presence, held in loving presence…”  

For the first time in nearly 20 years, I felt a deep sense of love and safety. Refuge in the Buddha.

I held onto those talks and guided meditations for dear life. They became my life raft in a stormy sea. While I was very tired, and very wet…I was not drowning. There were moments of rest. I was learning not to fight the waves.

Suddenly, my reading list turned from mysteries, thrillers, and true crime stories to Buddhist psychology and teachings. I spent time reflecting on the 4 Noble Truths, impermanence, and the places where craving, clinging, and aversion had created suffering in my life. I began to really  understand how this is true for every human being and that there is a way out. There can be an end to the suffering, and there is a plan for that - the Eight Fold Path. 

As I delved deeper into my studies in that first year or so, I listened to many teachers - I listened to talks nearly every day. I developed a special interest in the heart practices of lovingkindness, joy, forgiveness, and equanimity. My courage was bolstered by stories from the Buddha’s life and the difficulties he encountered. I learned about welcoming Mara as a friend, and bringing a kind attention to everything that arises and skillful ways to sit with strong emotions like fear and panic and how to challenge the thoughts and beliefs that are at the core of suffering. I learned about RAIN and inquiry: What is this?  Can I be with it? The wings of awareness and compassion. Skillful means and open awareness.

I have to admit, I sucked at all of it in the beginning (not a judgment, just a factual observation). There were many moments of frustration and thoughts about how I could not do it…how I was too fucked up to ever be completely free (Admittedly, I sometimes still feel that, but it is, slowly but surely, losing its grip). But, for every one of those moments, there was another moment where, through these teachings, I came into direct contact with growing love and compassion in my heart…and with the peace and calm that were right at the center of that. I began to have a tiny seed of confidence that my soul had not, in fact, been burned to ashes in the destructive fires of my past as I so feared that it had.  

For the first time in nearly 20 years, I felt hope. Refuge in the Dharma.

Over a handful of years, my practice and this path became the very foundation that I build my life upon. I began going to retreats, where my commitment to the path deepened and my heart stretched and grew and I met like minded people that were equally committed to a path of compassion and awakening. The ground beneath me shifted as so much of what I believed about the world around me began to fall away in the context of my own developing compassion and understanding. A circle of spiritual friends was growing around me, and I began to feel such a sense of ease and care when we came together to meditate. I began to engage in local groups, online groups, and I traveled to Washington DC as much as I could to visit my parents and to sit with the folks I shared retreats with...and quickly came to know that sangha as "home."

For the first time in, really, my whole life, I felt a sense of belonging. Refuge in Sangha.

A year and a half ago, my practice was tested in a way that I wasn’t entirely sure it would survive. Unexpectedly, my mother became gravely ill just before a retreat was about to begin. I knew in my gut that she would not leave the hospital. In my deep and desperate understanding that I was completely helpless to change what I knew would be the outcome, and the fear that was nearly squeezing the breath out of my chest, I went on retreat. It is a decision that I occasionally think about and wonder if I did the right thing, but it is one that I do not regret. It was the single most compassionate decision that I could make for my own well being. In one of the most terrifying and vulnerable times in my life, the silence of the sangha both held me close and gave me the space to prepare my heart to face this painful lesson on impermanence.

A few days after the retreat had ended, I stood by her bedside holding her hand and stroking her hair as my beloved mother drew her last breaths. It took every skill I have learned to be able to let go of her hand and walk out of that hospital room that day without falling to my knees and shaking my fist at the universe. It was a little after 6pm on a Wednesday when my mother passed away, and at 7 o’clock I walked, once again, into the arms of my sangha, where I was held, supported, and loved through those first few hours. 

In the upcoming months, I would return again and again to this family. And whenever I did, love, kindness, and healing were always waiting for me there - refuge. I returned again and again to the guided meditations that had become less a part of my practice over time but, during this time of deep pain and grief, became a crucial support…again a life raft as I navigated the crashing waves. And, again and again, I would return to the basic teachings…others feel this too, there is a way through this suffering. There would be days and days that I would lean on the essential teachings around metta and resourcing as I struggled to stay grounded, hand on my heart, turning toward love in the moments when it felt like the grief was going to rip me apart or swallow me up.

Buddha. Dharma. Sangha. It's a daily practice.

Shelter. Protection. Safety. Relief.

And so, in these scary, crazy, uncertain times when the world seems to be spinning off of its axis and so many people feel separate and alone and are feeling that longing for safety, and shelter, and belonging…where is the refuge?

Today, I took my seat under the gaze of my mother’s laughing Buddha statue to meditate and could feel the warmth and love of my own being flowing through this heart that is breaking for the world as I rested in the awareness of only the present, happening moment. When the ending bell rang, I offered a deep bow of gratitude to this supreme, enlightened teacher and the beauty I find on this path.

Buddhaṃ śaraṇaṃ gacchāmi. I take refuge in the Buddha. 

Love.

Today, I listened to my teacher talk about Fear as a Pathway to Loving Presence. Through this teaching, I understand that a fearless heart is not a heart without fear, but a heart that remains open and spacious even in the face of it and that darkness can be a portal to deep healing. That's right, the darkness that is happening right now may be the very catalyst that moves us into action for change and profound healing in the world.

Dhammaṃ śaraṇaṃ gacchāmi. I take refuge in the Dharma. 

Hope.

Today, I spent time with a friend talking about meditation practice and how it can be both a refuge and a challenge.  We sat together and talked about things we are grateful for in our lives and how even one person’s compassion has the potential to change the hearts and minds far and wide. Community…connection…

Saṃghaṃ śaraṇaṃ gacchāmi. I take refuge in the Sangha. 

Belonging.

May all beings everywhere find a place of refuge…

May all beings come to understand that we are all one…

May all beings feel valued and safe….

May the world know peace…may we know peace

May all beings everywhere awaken and be free.

In the Name of Love

I posted the following entry one year ago today as the US Supreme Court announced a ruling that made marriage equality the law of the land. Today, as LGBT communities around the country celebrate Pride Month, and in the wake of 50 lives lost in a terroristic hate crime against the Orlando LGBT community, it felt important to revisit this.  We have come so far, yet, there are still those who will fight to diminish that progress...who will disrespect, discriminate, and even seek to destroy and kill us in the name of the god they have chosen...in the name of hate...in the name of fear.  I don't know the answer, I really don't.  I just have to have faith that, if we just keep showing the world who we are...we are friends, neighbors, families, church members, doctors, lawyers, grocery store clerks...if we just keep living the examples of love and understanding, we can't help but win...in the name of love.  It sounds so hokey and idealistic when I see it on paper, but it's really all I have and what I hang on to...

May all beings everywhere be filled with lovingkindness.  

May all beings everywhere feel safe in the arms of the ones they love

May all beings everywhere know comfort and ease

May all beings be happy

May all beings be free

May we all be free...

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. 

Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Today, the supreme court handed down a historical ruling on the side of equality for all people.  When I heard it, I cried without really understanding why.  Most days, I don’t feel like an outsider or like I am the object of discrimination because of my sexuality.  But the feelings that welled up inside of me with the ruling really spoke to how deeply the sense of separation runs and how longstanding it has been.  I have become so far removed from it that, in the day to day life that I lead, I am not even aware of it until something like this comes along and the sense of relief nearly drops me to my knees.  The tears that flow today, flow in the remembering of times in my life when I was not removed from the pain of discrimination and hate.  They flow as I think about a thousand or more LGBT people in Dallas, Texas silently walking on a cool October evening with candles in remembrance of a young man in Wyoming tied to a fencepost and left to die for being just like us.  Tears flow as I remember the hot shame of being asked for my ID by mall security after someone had reported that there was a man in the women's bathroom because they only saw my short hair and boyish clothes and didn’t really look at me. They flow as I remember the self consciousness of holding my partner’s hand in a public place and the hurt of being introduced as my partner's “friend” when we would go to gatherings with her family or work or opting out of these events altogether because we simply weren’t welcome as a couple. They flow as I remember kneeling at an altar in a fundamentalist church while the preacher violently prayed over me that God would forgive and remove the "sinfulness" from me because I wanted to desperately to be accepted and loved by the people that worshipped there and I knew that I would never be as long as these "shameful" and "dirty" feelings were inside of me.  Tears flow as I remember lying down in the street in front of city hall for a chalk outline to be drawn to represent the thousands of gay men that were losing their lives to AIDS before the cocktail and when “Living with HIV” was not even yet a thing.  I remember those men…many, many of them.  Tears flow as I remember volunteering at the AIDS Crisis Center on Reagan street in Dallas - sharing meals and visiting with the folks that came in to eat there…hanging out with my neighbor at the Food Pantry…and ultimately, propping myself up next to him in his bed and watching TV while is IV medications ran in every day because his family had disowned him and wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence.  The tears flow as I think about friends that have lost loved ones in hospitals where, in spite of having loved and lived and laughed together for many years, and having cared for them until their final days, they were not allowed in their hospital room because they were not considered to be truly family and for those same friends that had to, through their grief, fight their partner's families to keep the homes and belongings that they shared together. They flow for friends that built their families and had children together, only to never see those children again when their families were separated by the many human shortcomings that have ways of tearing families apart because there was not legal recourse or protection. And they also flow as I remember the way my heart grew on parade days - hot, humid, sweaty days in September - when our community flooded the streets and the air was alive with activism and the sense that we were not invisible - celebrating love that was demonized in the world outside of our little community as sinful, wrong, and inferior...

While our love has always been equal, today, it is acknowledged by the world…and, while I have spent a good part of my life trying to get to the place where I do not have to be acknowledged to be validated, I have to admit…this one feels really, really special.  And that is why the tears are flowing…

Love wins.  It always does...

My Mother's Laughing Buddha

My Mother's Laughing Buddha

Standing on a table
Behind the loveseat
In my mother’s living room
The tall black statue
Of the Buddha joyfully laughing
My mother loved that Buddha
Once in a while
I would see her touch him
As she walked by
Almost ceremoniously
For a blessing, I suppose
And it must have worked
Because she always
Walked away smiling
Each day I kneel before
My mother’s laughing Buddha
Standing on a table
In front of a window
In my own living room
A reminder and a refuge
Of blessing, grace, and joy

c.sharshel
5/7/2016

Say I Love You

Say "I love you"

Say it randomly

To the people closest to you

To a stranger on the street

To yourself in the mirror

Tell someone what you love most

About who they are

And then another thing

There can’t be too many

Just say it out loud

Watch it light them up

Watch it light you up

Say “I love you”

Say it again and again

Because everything else

Is just idle conversation

-c.sharshel, 2015

From Metta-Morphosis: Reflections on Becoming

Ctrl+Alt+Del

2015 IMCW New Years Retreat                                                                               Pearlstone Retreat Center - Reisterstown, MD

     

And just like that, a new year is underway.  2015 ended and 2016 began with five days of stillness and silence on a residential meditation retreat...my favorite place to be.

I am a firm believer that the first action that should be taken to fix something that is broken or underperforming is to turn it off and unplug it, wait a few minutes, and turn it back on.

Ctrl+Alt+Del…the most useful keyboard shortcut ever...

The Sacred Pause...

This seems to be what happens for me when I take the time to step away from my busy life and dedicate time to intentionally turning inward for an extended period of time.  I am always surprised at how, when things get quiet, my brain spirals out into its conditioned patterns in a desperate effort to somehow restore the noise…the distraction…like an overtired child that keeps chattering and fidgeting and thinking up things to do, say, and need in order to avoid an approaching bedtime.  But, when the circuit finally breaks, the clarity with which I can notice each and every moment is nothing short of brilliant.  In this space, even the most fragile, fractured pieces of me can be safely exposed into a light of tenderness and compassion and my heart is unwavering in its courage to welcome and hold them.  The love I find in this place is real and true and pure.  And then, of course, I have to go to the airport...

I can’t say that I have ever come home completely enlightened.  But I have come home every time with more awareness than I left with.  I don’t have a blank slate, but I have a new perspective on the things that are working in my life and the things that are not.  This has particularly been true with this retreat with all of the implications and anticipation of the new year ahead.

In 2015, there was a lot that didn’t work.  The grief brought on by my mother’s passing is ongoing, has been so complicated, and is bigger than I ever dreamed it would be - and I dreamed it would be unimaginably and unbearably big.  I thought it would be linear.  I was wrong.  It is still a day to day experience.  I sit with it, I cry, I move into it and out of it.  I am learning that maybe it is just a new way of being...that it might never "end" at all.  I moved on from the frustrating job I had in January to a new frustrating job that pays more, but still does not feed my soul.  I overestimated my energy and failed to follow through on a number of commitments. I have given into fear…a lot.  I didn’t lose weight, or save more money, or organize my cabinets and closets, or exercise more.  That being said...I believe I really did do the best I could.  Maybe 2015 was meant to teach me about acceptance and kindness in the face of falling short.  I got a lot of practice.

Not all is lost, though, because 2015 did bring about some things that did work...often gloriously.  I navigated a huge disruption of a very important relationship in my life.  It wasn’t perfect, but I weathered the storm without any bridge burning or dramatic exits.  I took care of myself this year in ways that I have never really been able to before by paying attention to my heart and doing my best to provide for it ahead of anything else.  Sometimes, that has meant pulling away, other times, that has meant reaching beyond my usual comfort zone.  Sometimes, it meant staying home and saying no to everything, and sometimes, it meant going far from home and saying yes to everything.  The willingness to do whatever is necessary has been a brave new milestone for me this year.  I want to grow that.  Finally, I wrote a book.  I could point out all of the ways that this very slender, self-published volume is not a “real” book, but I won’t.  Because when I hold it in my hands and turn the pages, I know that the words inside do not get more real…and the feeling in my heart is both spectacular and terrifying.  Have I arrived or am I just setting forth?  I don’t know.  More will be revealed, I suppose.

I have no specific plan for 2016, but I am interested and open to whatever it brings (Although, I might mention in advance that I prefer to avoid root canals, travel delays, tech failures, and pricey car repairs).  I want to continue to be uncompromising in the care of my own heart and grow the ways that I reach out in caring for others.   I want to learn to let go of what does not serve me without leaving claw marks.  I want to love both the waves and the still water.  I want to figure out how to live inside of my values.  Right effort…Right livelihood.  How can I take care of myself financially while contributing to a world in which I can feel alive?  What is the calling of my heart?  I am pretty sure I know this, but what can I do right now, right here to live more authentically from that?  Where can my talents and abilities be of the most service to others?  Where can they most serve my own happiness?  It’s a long way from here to there, but I think it must start with inquiry:  What is between me and joy?  What is between me and happiness?  What is between me and freedom?  These are the questions that really resonate as I head into the new year.

A verse from Rilke was a constant companion during my silent pilgrimage:

You, sent out beyond your recall,


Go to the limits of your longing.


Embody me.

Flare up like a flame


And make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.


Just keep going. No feeling is final.

Don't let yourself lose me.

Go to the limits of your longing.  Flare up like a flame.  Let everything happen.  This is what I want 2016 to look like…

May 2016 bring blessings beyond measure and be all that you need it to be…

May you be healthy, prosperous, and full of joy...

May you, and I, and all beings everywhere know love, peace, and freedom...