Listen To The Dragonfly

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This is a note to the blue dragonfly that marked the path today. I am given to seeing metaphor and symbol in almost everything. Serendipity and synchronicity hold hands everyday in my life. Karma meets coincidence. All year I’ve told people, “There have been helping hands all along this path.” There have been harbingers and guardians. To me, a few of my friends look a lot like angels.

Dragonflies have been present throughout this time of wandering, too. One year ago I came to a leaping point in my life that was marked by a dragonfly. It was singly dedicated to staying by my side. I have come to think of that particular dragonfly as a threshold guardian. I was ready for the passage so it accompanied me as I stepped through the water (the deep memory) and into unknown lands. I literally passed through a watercourse with the dragonfly as my constant companion. He left when I made it to the far shore and leapt.

A week ago, I was visited by an orange and crimson dragonfly. I’d just emerged from the faery ring when it came calling. This was a visitor of another sort. It felt like reassurance. If it could have spoken it might have said, “Did you feel that? The faery ring signals a change. The cycle is shifting with this new moon: the centrifugal will become centripetal. The hard growth is nearly done. The fruit of your labor will ripen now. All is spiraling back to the center.” This dragonfly was a harbinger of the return. “You are almost home,” it whispered with its wings.

Today the dragonfly was blue. This, I believe, was Hermes. He is the messenger of the gods, walking freely between the world of mortals and the divine. He is also the protector of travelers and I think he came today to give comfort, protection and to deliver a message. The message read something like this: despite what you think, you do not walk this path alone. I am with you.

And so to the blue dragonfly, thank you. The message was clear. Keep stepping into the unknown. I know that there is no other direction. I know that my intellect and reason are of no use on this path. There is no sense to be made. Intuition is all.

Embrace Your Discipline

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It occurs to me that during this phase of my life I am learning discipline. Not that I’ve ever been undisciplined but a short gander at my current daily activity looks like a masters class in self-direction. I laughed out loud when a few minutes ago I looked up “discipline” in the thesaurus and the word “punishment” topped the list. The other choices are regulation, self-control, and subject (as in field or specialty). I generally resist rules, am not in to punishment, and am a generalist to such a degree that I have no field or specialty. So, discipline must be necessary to help me come to some semblance of balance before I’m too old to balance. All will be lost the day I wear pants with elastic waistbands and Velcro shoes but until then some balance may be possible.

Two years ago I decided to write posts every day. I decided to take on a daily writing commitment because the need for fodder opened my eyes. I had to pay attention to all the colors of life swirling around me if I was going to have something to write about. Little gestures of kindness became visible. The world is much more vibrant than I understood before I began paying attention. I’ve always been a painter so I’ve practiced “seeing” all of my life but a new kind of sight opened when I decided to write. Also, I’ve never considered myself a writer so my sub-intention for writing each day was to learn to write. Double discipline: open my eyes to see and become a better writer.

Two months ago I committed to publishing a daily cartoon strip for an audience entrepreneurs. Although the strip is crude (by design), each panel takes a few hours to complete and in just a few months I’ve drawn over 120 panels. Today, like most days, I spent the afternoon drawing and inking cartoons. I’m trying to get two months ahead because the strip publishes everyday, seven days a week. It is not lost on me that since beginning the cartoon I find that I am listening with a new set of ears. I’m becoming a world-class eavesdropper. Everything is fair game for cartoon material and everything – especially the most serious conversations – sound like a cartoon. People have no idea that they are riotously funny. In cartooning I’ve already learned that few things in this life warrant the weight that we give to it. Our addiction to drama and blaming is a comedy gold mine. I am my own best source for a good yuck. The discipline is to listen and laugh.

Walking home from tai chi this morning made me realize that I also have a daily tai chi practice. I began my study almost 2 years ago and I love it. I start each day with my practice and I am changing in some fundamental ways because of it. The discipline is to root over what Saul calls “the bubbling spring.” Connect to the chi and empty of all forms of pushing. The discipline is to empty and listen.

Listen. Empty. Laugh. See. Balance. Punishment is nowhere in sight. Alan says that the root word of discipline is disciple –and today I take great delight in my chosen path of discipleship.

Be Very Human

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Being human is messy. We are a mass of contradictions. We say one thing and mean another. We hold others to standards that we do not ourselves hold. We change our minds. We often hear but rarely listen. We misunderstand, miscommunicate, mistake, and simply miss. We judge and run and hide and then pretend that we have courage and conviction. Sometimes we do. Mostly we have courage when we don’t try to have it; courage usually feels like terror. Conviction shows up when there is a distinct absence of dogma.

And we learn. We try again. And again. We gaze at the next hill and wonder what is beyond it. We get back up after being knocked to the ground. We are eternally hopeful even if we do not see it. We reach. We take another step. We desire to get better, be better. We want to know. We read self help books and aspire to create a better world. We want fulfillment and peace.

Recently I watched an irate woman frost a birthday cake. I thought the cake looked fine but she was fuming with herself, thinking she should have done better. When I asked why she was so upset she cried, “Because it matters!” It is the little things that matter. It is the small stuff that rings our humanity.

Another day and I wade through the muck. In the mire I had a conversation that upset me. She saw me retreat and said, “Come back out again.”

I said, “No!” and pouted like a five year old refusing to eat broccoli. I shook my head to emphasize my resolve.

She said, “Please. Please come out.” I looked up and realized that she was not trying to hurt me and that I was being silly. I stepped out from behind my steely resolve. No one wants to be in a shell. We reach toward each other even when it looks like refusal.

We humans are optimistic. We tip toward love even in the midst of the murkiest moments. Lurking beneath the phrase, “I don’t know how I am going to get through it,” is the faith that transformation is not only possible but it is imminent. We get through it every time and we never know how. We understand how only after we have done it. The stuff of life is in forging the path through it. And then we are changed; we are better for the slog.

“Step into the love. Move toward it.” I said. She was hurting. When she scowled I added, “It is all that I know how to do.”

She said, “That sounds like a phrase from Saint Michael! It’s not very human.”

In fact, it is the very thing that makes us human. To step the other way is a path to nowhere. And I know in her despair that she said one thing and meant another. We are both humans. We are messy. Transformation is imminent.

Kiss The Cosmos

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I just wrote the word “cosmos” because I wanted to use it in a cartoon and needed to check the thesaurus for alternative meanings. It turns out the cosmos is pretty much everything. For instance, as I walked across town this morning I heard someone declare, “It’s always a good time for a cookie!” Cookie. Time. Always. Good. A perfect expression of the cosmos in contemporary small talk!

Later in the afternoon as I passed the bus tunnel I was approached by two older men from somewhere in the world that I do no know. They were Sikh and trying to find bus number 150 to Renton. It took us a while to establish that it was a bus that they were seeking. I took them down into the bus tunnel and that was a great revelation to the two men. They were seeking the bus on the street! It never occurred to them that buses run under the street in tunnels. They looked with wide eyes at the tunnel traffic and were at first dubious to get on a bus in a tunnel. In a communication that was more dance than word I helped them see that the tunnel was temporary. We found the 150 bus and before boarding they blessed me. I was an angel sent to them by god. A perfect expression of the cosmos in contemporary urban kindness.

Later Alan called. He’d sent emails that never showed up in my inbox. The emails are lost in space (the cosmos). Mostly, he could feel that I needed a connection so he reached out to find me. I told him that I had become a ghost and was delighted that he found me. We talked for ten minutes or so and our conversation brought me closer to substance. Great friendship is magic that way – it pulls us from the insubstantial ethers and gives us form, shape, and identity. When we ended our call I was more human than ghost. The cosmos is energy that takes many forms and a simple phone call is, too, a perfect expression of the cosmos.

The sun was out today so on my way back to the studio after talking with Alan I found a warm brick wall in the sun, leaned against it, closed my eyes and drank in the heat. I had not a single thought in my head, just immense appreciation for the light that seeped into my body and warmed me to the core. You might say that I was touched by the sun and isn’t that a perfect expression of the cosmos. Everything is everything all at the same time – it only seems to be separate.

Want The Sunrise

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This morning I watched the sun rise from the top deck of the ferry. It was a clear calm summer morning, warm even before the sun peaked over the mountains. I was alone on the deck to witness the dawn and wondered why the other passengers weren’t up there with me.

The ferry was packed which was unusual for an early Saturday morning but there was a marathon in the city and most of my fellow commuters were runners and their families. As I boarded I passed groups stretching, others were applying icy hot patches, most were checking their gear and making sure they had what they needed for the run. They were too busy preparing to pay attention to the sun. The main deck was frenetic with carbo-loading and pre-run anticipation!

As chaotic as it was below, the upper deck was equally as quiet. The sky was electric with velvet blues and hot oranges morphing to pink and purple as the sun rolled into view. It made me quiet inside. There was nothing more important to me in that moment than being present for the start of another day. I wanted to know what it is to sing the sun up, to welcome it back, to live within the consciousness that pays attention. It was utterly magical to be on the water, standing at the bow of the ferry, crossing the Sound, the summer morning air rushing through me as the heat of the morning sun reached and washed over me. I drank deeply and knew that this morning would be one of the moments I would remember on that future day when my life flashed before my eyes.

I realized as I left the ferry amidst a throng of runners that I am running a different kind of race. Many years ago I was a runner. I ran to feel alive. I ran to find my limits. I ran to stay ahead of the pain. I ran as a meditation. Now, I am alive and my life is a meditation. I no longer need to find my limits because I’m fairly certain I create them. With great intention and even greater dedication I walk slowly so I can see. I have raced through too much of my life trying to get to starting lines and finish lines. I no longer care about starts or finishes, I want to be in it and not merely move through it. I want the sunrise, the feel of the breeze off the water and the new sun on my face.

Lean And Rest

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[continued from 811, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19]

Bali Journal Excerpt #10
At lunch, Rai told me that he also had no religion and then he corrected himself. “My religion is goodness,” he said. “Dharma,” he added. “In my religion you only need do your action and god will determine the result.”

In Bali, it is common to see a woman making an offering in the middle of a busy intersection, motorbikes flying by her. Her offering is normal to them. Each morning a new flower appears in my room. I never see who places it there. In a crowded temple, a man I have never before seen leans on me to rest. It has been a long night and he is very tired. I am filled with warm gratitude for what he teaches me.

This is the final excerpt from the journals. It is the one that touched me the most almost 13 years after writing the words. I realized that I am still filled with warm gratitude. I realized that my religion to be goodness. I am learning to do my action and let go of trying to determine the result. This, especially, has been my lesson during this long winter of wandering.

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[continued from 811]

Bali Journal Excerpt #2:
During the group’s visit to Jero Manchu [Jero was a Balian or shaman], I took pictures for Lora as she worked with the Balian. As I was aiming the camera, about ready to snap a photo, I heard my inner voice scream, “Ask the Balian what is missing!” Missing? And then again, “You need to know what is missing!” The voice railed at me for the duration of our visit to Jero’s compound. “Just ask!” my inner voice implored. I didn’t ask. I was too embarrassed and more than a little unhinged at the battle raging inside of me. I didn’t want to look stupid or display my vulnerabilities. I knew that, in fact, something was missing. I told myself that I didn’t want to impose my needs upon the group. I left the compound stuffing the question inside.

Reading this journal entry thirteen years later made me smile for 2 reasons: 1) I’ve since learned to listen and act immediately when my inner voice calls. I used to treat my inner voice as if it was an “other.” Now, it is not separate. It is my voice. It no longer needs to scream. 2) I assumed that speaking to my needs was an imposition on others. I had no evidence for that assumption. In truth, it was purely my justification for not showing up. It was my way of hiding.

I’m particularly fond of the timing of this excerpt. A few weeks ago my inner voice roared an imperative and I acted immediately. My world will never be the same because I listened and responded. There was no gap between the call and my action. There is no need for inner warfare. Additionally, today was the official launch party for my comic strip, FL!P (Skip has done an amazing job building this site – check it out). Lots of people came, drank wine, ate food, laughed, drew pictures, voted for their favorite strip and character. I loved every minute of it because I showed up. I recognized that I spent the entire day doing exactly what I wanted with no assumption about the impact on others. It is no longer my job to decide what other people need or think. There is so much in my life to celebrate!

Be In The Hallway

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This morning Arnie made me laugh out loud. We hadn’t talked for some months and I was recounting the amazing pilgrimage I have been on throughout the winter. Doors have been closing, sometimes abruptly while other doors, previously locked, open easily. He reminded of a phrase his mother used to say: the universe doesn’t close doors without opening others – but it is hell waiting in the hallway!

Last August on the shores of a lake in New Hampshire, Donna emerged from the woods looking for me. She had some things that she needed to tell me. She knew that I was standing in the metaphoric hallway and that it was hell. All the doors were closed and I was feeling stuck. She told me to sit still. She reminded me that it does no good to pound on the doors when they are closed to you. It might feel good to rail against the doors but the effort is fruitless. Doors do not feel pain. The only shoulder I was breaking was my own. Donna is wise and told me great stories of the doors she’d pounded in her life and none of them ever opened again. Doors close for reasons that are never apparent at the closing. Doors close so you will look elsewhere. In time, a new door presents itself so, in Donna’s words, “You may as well enjoy the limbo.”

She offered me another notion that helped me sit still in the hallway. She said, “You are like me. In your life you have callings and there is always a space between the calls. You won’t hear the new call until you enter stillness.” So, I sat in the hallway. It was hell. And I was still. From this place, almost nine months after that day on the beach, I am now grateful that the old door closed because the new door is more amazing than anything I could have imagined. It is ripe with potential. I can’t believe I pounded on that old door for so long. I can’t imagine what life would be like now if that old door had not closed.

Sitting in the hallway is another way of saying, “Have faith.” Faith is not an abstraction when you are in the hallway. It is really easy to yammer on about faith when you are comfortable. Step into the hallway, sit in hell, and faith is a concrete experience – if you can get quiet. Enjoy the limbo and know that a door will open eventually. It always does when you stop pounding. As Donna implied, stop fighting for what no longer serves you. Let the door close and BE IN THE HALLWAY. There’s magic behind another door and it will open if you let it.

Ask The Next Question

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I met John in his workshop. He was cutting pieces for a chair. He’s decided that his summer task is to learn to build chairs. I’ve known John for many years and he was a master woodworker when I met him. That he’s set himself the task of making chairs seemed at first already within his reach. I’ve sat in many many chairs that John’s designed and built. And then, like a little kid excited to open presents, he showed me his prototype and all the things he didn’t know how to do. He showed me all the things that he couldn’t wait to explore. There are new joinery, curves, and design elements. He’s incorporating metals into some of his designs. Brushing the sawdust from his shirt, he said, “I figure if I’m not learning then I’m probably wasting my time.”

John chooses his projects based on what he doesn’t know. For years I’ve admired how he orients himself to his tasks. He is a true master. Mastery is not about what you know. Mastery is about how you address yourself to what you don’t know. Mastery and curiosity are bedfellows. Most of us choose our projects based on what we know. We do stuff because we know how to do it – and sometimes we mistakenly call that expertise. We use our knowledge to distinguish ourselves from the pack. Masters have no time for such nonsense. They are too busy learning. They are too in awe of life to separate from life. They are joiners and not concerned with status games.

As we jumped into John’s truck to get some dinner and a beer I noticed that he was limping. I asked him about the limp and he was told me about the magic his naturopath was working. He has arthritis in his back. He said, “I have a lot to learn. There is so much for me to do, so many things I want to do. I figure I’ll never get to it all but I need my health. I’m too excited to stop asking the next question.”

No Story Necessary

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Today Alan and I led the final Transformational Presence Coaching class of the year. I always feel a deep sense of gratitude for the group and for Alan in particular when we complete a cycle. I’ve become a steward of his work and have slowly over time embodied the principles. I am especially grateful for this group of graduates because over the past seven months they provided the only real consistency in my life. We’ve met every Tuesday (on the phone) to talk about the learning and experiences of the past week. The class was the single pattern, the touchstone that gave shape to my wandering.

In Bali Jakorda Rai told me I needed to learn about energy and auras. And then I met Alan – and I’ve only just today realized that bit of providence. He taught me about energy – to first pay attention to the energy, the feeling in my body, and not the story that I tell. The story comes second. It is the flip of how most of us engage with life. It is the opposite of the American cultural norm. All life is energy in motion.

Something powerful shifts when thought takes second place to energy. Something powerful changes when we recognize that thought is energy. I know that might sound esoteric but consider for a moment how your life might open if you paid less attention to what you think and more attention to the experience of the moment (Quinn once said, “There are 6 billion people on the planet and you are the only one who really cares what you think.”). What is right in front of you? What is your relationship to this moment?

It is a useful practice to pay attention and work with how you feel before you attach to what you think. Attaching to what you think almost always leads to some form of internal debate – and inner debate is a sure sign that you’ve split yourself and have kinked the energy hose. What could be less interesting than spending your time attending an inner debate?

On the other hand, if you pay attention to the energy – which is neither good nor bad – you can change the direction or work with something more expansive and easy. You can ground it, you can slow it down, stir it up or add color; you can even it out. Energy is about motion and flow. You can trace it back to the trigger and more clearly see the story you tell. If an old story is worn out, you can release it and make room for a new story. You can nurture the flow of energy.

Energy first, story second. It is how our brains work: we have experiences (we feel) and then we story the experiences. As the class discussed today, sometimes there is no need for a story.