When Rainbows Come

It's been an eventful summer.
For all of us.
You, and I.
You've seen my photo posts;
words are elusive of late.

I've learned a few things
as I reflect
in the heart of the canyons here...

One,
that I have missed you.
I've visited your blogs and
tasted cups of love
and the touch of your hearts.
I'm glad to walk with you
as we travel together. 

Two,
that with the many storms facing us,
we are none of us alone. 

Third,
that sometimes
after a storm
comes the most beautiful rainbow.

Sometimes
even more than one.

There may or may not be pots of gold,
but the rainbows are gratifying enough.
And riding those rainbows
have brought incredible wild joy
and....

Changes of Scenery

I don't know about you,
but this summer has brought with it 

much change and growth and love. 

Here are some of the ways summer refreshed me:

Flying high in sky...

Dipping into the sea...

Exploring new terrain...

Enjoying natural and man made art...

Absorbing colors...

Kicking back...

Outmaneuvering sharks...

(hint: shopping carts involved)

No, still not Nemo...

Smelling the hibiscus...(pink and peach)

Weathering the storms.

Remembering that life is beautiful.

Family and friends only a heartbeat away,

Connections and re-connections,

remembering how loved we are.

Feeling boundless gratitude and...

We're All in This Together Folks

This is pretty much in my book what religion is supposed to be about. Bringing everyone together. Not dividing us into 'us' vs. 'them'. We are all a family, traveling together. Hugs break through the limitations of mind; they are the uniting of what's inside of all of us. The commonality of love.

Italy. China. Cleveland. Brazil. Samoa. Kenya. Iceland. Croatia...wherever we are, here's to universal peace. HUGS!

Internet Communities

I figured out why I love the internet so much, or more to the point, my internet connections from around the world. Besides being a communications major in college, and having been told my entire life that I talk entirely too much--my parents thought it was endearing as a toddler, and my first husband was sweet about it, but grade school teachers and my childrens father protested otherwise.

When we first moved to the heart of Mormon Utah over a decade ago, I loved being surrounded by churches around every corner. As a convert, it felt macaroni-and-cheese comforting and secure, and oh those beautiful temples, thinking of all those loving spirits watching over us...But what was at first a protective field has become a cage of sorts. I can stand on my condo deck and see not one, not two, but three church spires just in the neighborhood. It can get downright claustrophobic.

I got over the sheer numbers early on, even devising a travel game with the kids which we called, Spot the Steeple; you earned five points for being the first to spot an LDS church, fifteen points for a Stake Center (a Mormon church that comes replete with a satellite dish to broadcast Salt Lake's doctrines worldwide, including, er, um, it's own backyard, which we practically are) and a whopping twenty-five points for a temple....okay what can I say, it fit the tight budget of a family of six--it was free and it was distracting.

Not until a non-member (translate, normal) friend recently passed through the state and got stuck somewhere south of us in St. George, and failed to make her appearance up here, did I get a glimpse of how the rest of the world might view us. She said the proliferation of Mormon churches was creepy, and couldn't bear to venture into the heart of the LDS labyrinth to visit, and the sooner she could get out of Mormon Dodge, the better. Seeing it from an outsider's view, and make no mistake, it can feel like you are dead on the outside of something when it's broadcast in your face so pointedly, as in, "Here I am! Here I am! I AM MORMON and proud of it! Want a piece of me?" Okay maybe a bit overboard, but I'd never considered how exclusive we appeared to someone outside our tight little community.

Over the years I have felt less and less a part of the fold, particularly after experiencing firsthand that religion and love and and compassion don't necessarily go hand in hand. I was amazed to rediscover that perfectly good people don't belong to this religion, often not to any religion, and still have more heart than some who spend their entire life focused on the energy of following rules/beliefs. What a shocker. There are good Mormons, but to me they are simply good people and would make good Buddhists, good Jews, good Atheists, good Muslims--you get my drift. They simply ARE 'good' and don't need to be endlessly badgered into being good which frankly, I prefer to call just being decent. Good is such a judgmental word. People who are genuinely kind, decent, and compassionate who allow their heart to actually guide their actions in how they treat others, not just whether someone is obeying the rules and thereby deserves to be treated well. People who openly embrace humanity as a whole, not just their community of fellow believers.

Which oddly may be human nature after all. I find that though I live in a place mired in the sticky mud of belief systems, some occasionally offensive and small-minded (think small-town mentality with a hint of territorial aggressiveness) I could easily feel swallowed and lost in the sea of judgment. Including, I admit, my own. But I want to believe that goodness, or just plain decency, exists everywhere, including here at home.

So even though my community has expanded to include my neighbors worldwide, of all different beliefs, cultures and backgrounds, I like the feeling of being all in this together. And I love that my 'internets', i.e. Facebook--despite all it's bad press and continued privacy violations, although once you are on the web you have pretty much signed that over anyway, but I have nothing to hide, so why hide?--I love that I can go on the computer and connect, communicate and BE with people with the same, different, or really out-there ideas. Though I am still shy of adopting beliefs per se, because, well, they limit your world. Or at least mine.

Ultimately Mother Theresa said it best, "If you judge people, you have no time to love them." So welcome, World, into my very own backyard, steeples and all.

Adventures of a Librarian

It's entirely possible that I spend far too much time reading. But one of the things I've noticed is, when I hear words of wisdom from someone who knows me, it can feel like criticism, and I don't hear the message because I'm too busy taking it personally. But come across the same thought in a book, and I am free to ask "Could this be true for me too?" and feel willing to changing things that I wouldn't if it was say, Aunt Bea or my friend Amelia giving the very same counsel.

I recently finished Sylvia Boorstein's little zen book, It's Easier Than You Think, recommended by Julie over at Prarie Thistle. It's only taken me months to get to it, but I absolutely loved it. Sylvia's mind works much like mine; restless and a habitual fretter, illustrated by experiences such as this one:

I am on a street corner in a foreign country where my husband and I have agreed to meet at five o'clock. It is two minutes before the hour. I have the thought, "What if he doesn't arrive in the next two minutes? That will surely mean he has been mugged or even killed! Or held hostage somewhere. Or had a heart attack! I wonder where the American embassy is. If he doesn't arrive, I'll go to the embassy..." This thought takes three seconds, during which time adrenaline fills my body, my heart beats rapidly, and I start to sweat. The adrenaline burst intensifies the worry, and more worries arise: "Who do I know in this country? How can I phone our children?" At five o'clock he arrives. I am relieved, and I am tired.  

I had to laugh, because I did this years ago when the kids were little and we were hiking Montezuma's Castle in Arizona. I have a vertigo-inducing fear of heights, and the descent to the cliff dwellings consisted of a narrow path protected by a few scattered patches of railing (or was it ropes?). I made it down a few feet before the dizziness kicked in, and decided to take our youngest daughter (not yet two) back up while Hubs took the older kids to the site.


And wouldn't you know it, daughter dearest decided to struggle in my arms, wanting to walk by herself, right as we passed the unprotected patches of the trail, and I was sure we would both plummet to our deaths in the struggle, with my last view of her glaring in protest (apparently, the Sinaqua Indian tribe wouldn't be the only ones who mysteriously disappeared here).

I don't know how we made it back, but I didn't stop panting until we were enveloped in the safety of the Visitors Center, overlooking the trail we had left behind. On our way in, we caught up with a group of mentally challenged young adults with their guides, laughing and chatting, oblivious of any danger. This took me so aback, because I couldn't imagine taking my brother, also mentally challenged, on such a hike. Then I wondered if he would have been just fine. I mean, these hikers were, even enjoyed themselves along the way. Maybe it wasn't so much WHAT was or 'could' be happening, but WHO was perceiving it; i.e. who was wearing what glasses that colored the events possibilities.

Meanwhile, there I was, in the safe-zone of the Visitor's Center--while my daughter ran around exploring--imagining that the rest of our family had already fallen over the edge of the cliffs, and how on earth could I drive back home buried in all that grief? And how would we survive without them? (I think after that we acquired life insurance)....when suddenly here came Hubs and the kids and all that worry melted away, leaving me exhausted.

I cannot tell you the relief I felt when I read Sylvia's experience. I was not alone! And thanks to her mindfulness practice, she is a 'recovered worrier'. I'm realizing that mindfulness is an excellent practice for people like me whose imaginations enjoy running amok--to experience instead what Sylvia calls a calm contentedness.

I am grateful for the mentors I've met in books, helping me learn how to experience life more courageously. With mindfulness I don't need to be an armchair adventurer, exploring the world through books, but more like Ron who travels the world with his camera; showing us what's out there. And while I may have missed my calling as a librarian, I can still get out there and explore.

A New Earth

Happy Earth Day everyone. It feels like a day of celebration, so I'm putting aside the blog I've been writing to post something a little more, well, earthy.

A few years ago I was blown away by Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth. I had been listening to his CD's for awhile, but must have been ready for the messages in the book because it was one of those defining moments where life around me changed dramatically. Literally; there was lots of flailing about looking for a way to take the next tour bus to Timbuktu because I wanted off of the one I was riding. I liked the way things were just fine, thank you...but of course that's not how it all played out.

If you look around, change is in the air for many of us, and not just on the nightly news. I see it in your blogs, and with my silence you can bet that I'm knee deep in it as well. My changes are not as exciting as fellow blogger Linda Lou  who is leaving her life in Las Vegas heading east (roadtripping with her sister!) for an undetermined while to be with family, or fellow blogger Heather  who left the country entirely to raise her kids in a beautiful part of Guatemala, or even my raw food mentors Matt and Angela who settled down in Vilcabamba (don't you just love the way that rolls off the tongue?) Ecuador to build a home and rural life.

No, my change is much more boring, haircut aside. Still, things are shaking up (and not just our old Maytag washer which gave up the ghost in a dramatic fanfare of shaking and screeching, nor the 4.9 earthquake that rumbled our sleepy western state). What's fascinating is that change can be viewed as hostile--and finding yourself mired in fear; or supportive and friendly--and embraced with love and acceptance. I tend to waffle between the two perspectives, hence my experience of the changing reality does too. As a recovering hermit, change in my life usually involves a lot of kicking and screaming only to get there and look back wondering what the heck was I smoking, and feeling grateful for the new (and usually improved) scenery.

As you know, I've been blogging shamelessly about Geneen Roth's new book, Women, Food and God. Because of her insights, I'm re-discovering Eckhart Tolle's Power of Now as if I'd never read it before. It's resonating so deeply I'm left wondering where I was when I read it before (probably in a self-imposed hell). Insight after insight takes me into parts I hadn't seen before. It's like what my old church leaders used to say about scripture reading--that every time you read them again, you see them with new eyes (only without the brainwashing; more like a brain cleansing, or purging, of beliefs).

I get so excited about Eckhart's passages that I can't sit still. Which kind of defeats the purpose of what he talks about, because stillness is a big part of the inner discovery. Still, I'm finding that it's a process, this practice of evolving as a human, being. And because of Geneen's emphasis on kindness, I understand that the perceived "delay" really is okay; just something to notice. Then too this new spring energy is so invigorating it's hard to sit still when you want to bounce around outside waving your arms like a drunken kangaroo.

In the Power of Now Eckhart shares his insights about spirituality without taking himself too seriously--a major turn-on. He's no Jon Stewart, but he's humbly funny, which is perfect because I can no longer listen to folks who take themselves too seriously; it either cracks me up or tunes me out. So his teachings are a lovely breath of fresh air, leaving me ecstatic to practice what he teaches.



All of which bring me back to the creation of a New Earth, which we are all somehow building, consciously or unconsciously. And there is so much to celebrate, the hope of us getting it, getting that we are all vital parts of a global family and this wondrous planet our home. And as she changes (shifts) so do we.

Yes, change is scary and we can run and hide (my initial hermit-crabby instinct) or jump around outside like a kangaroo excited about the possibilities...I don't know about you, but I'm outgrowing my shell.

Give Yourself That Much

While sipping my morning 'joe' of kale/mango/banana/coconut/lucama (wtf?) green smoothie, my heart is leaping and soaring all at once. Nearing the end of Geneen Roth's newest book (the first of which I've read even though I've devoured her column in Good Housekeeping which my mailman drops by, faithfully), is filling a part of me I haven't touched in a long, long while and it's dangerously close to overflowing.

Now one of my all-time favorite books related to understanding and overcoming food issues, Women, Food, and God by Geneen holds its place beside Martha Beck's The Four Day Win. Both are down-to-earth mind-blowing and both touch the deepest parts of ourselves.

Both explain how the mind works, the power it wields, and since we can't live without it, how to get along with it. Not only does this inspire a heart-thumping sense of loving kindness, it also brings its own measure of  peace. So much of it brings me to that place inside I've touched briefly once during a Byron Katie retreat. A place so spacious, so loving, so everything...I've never gotten over it. And makes me want to leap and soar, again, only this time perhaps, with you. Bon Apetit.

Ask yourself what you love. Without fear of consequences, without force of shame or guilt. What motivates you to be kind, to take care of your body, your spirit, others, the earth? Trust the longing, trust the love that can be translated into action without the threat of punishment. Trust that you will not destroy what matters most. Give yourself that much. ~ Geneen Roth