"Don't think so much!"

How many of us were told this when we were children?  Especially those of us who were girls.  My mother was particularly likely to say it, probably because she spent the most time with me and was at the receiving end of the most challenging statements and questions that came out of my mouth.  I don’t blame Mom – undoubtedly she had been silenced too, and discouraged from “thinking.”  The whole twentieth century, certainly through my childhood, was an era of children being “seen and not heard.”  Nice little girls were not supposed to mull over the nature of God, or to question church theology, world history, or, worse still, admit to being “a great Episcopalian but probably not a Christian.”  The latter, which remains my paradoxical reality to this day, sent our sixties-era station wagon careening to the side of the road, where mom, in barely controlled fury out of clenched teeth, said, “Do. Not. Say. Such. A. Thing. Ever. Ever. Again.”  The power of the things I was thinking to discomfort or even anger people having been fully demonstrated, I clammed up for decades, remaining silent in academic settings where I really should have been participating, remaining in employee roles when I should have been the boss, and resisting, terrified, the opportunity to write publicly about anything I was thinking.  In personal situations when I drummed up the courage to speak my truth only to be shot down, I would burst into tears and walk away.  It was my comfort choice, I guess.

This comes up because the Fire Starter book (see previous blog) exercises seem to be unusually efficient at getting to the core of what one loves to do.  At the top of all my lists is Deep Thinking, and Writing (or Talking about) what I’m thinking about.  I’ve kept a journal most of my adult life, at times waking up in the wee hours so that I could write before work.  Even during the years, even decades, that I did not sing, I kept writing.  Writing was the thing I couldn’t “NOT” do, like breathing.  But what I wrote was stuffed into the proverbial box, kept away from view.

Of course, while many of us have been taught to be “critical thinkers,” society as a whole would probably prefer that we not be too successful at it.  I mean, I can poke intellectual holes in just about every construct in our world, from capitalism to health care to religion.  I can understand and assess situations on a dime, and express myself about them (although until now I have mostly held back, or tried to communicate with unwelcoming audiences!) And having recently come to understand the Law of Attraction power of my thoughts, I’m much more conscious of being aware of what my thoughts may be attracting, and am training myself to be mostly positive and uplifting in my thinking and writing, rather than "critical," per se.

Some people are creators.  Some people are growers. Some people are explorers. Some people are fighters.  Some people are buyers or sellers.  Some people teach. Some people nurture.  Some people heal.  I’m learning that I am a “thinker and expresser.”  The spiritual and intellectual energy coming through me must express.  For decades, I tried to be an artist because the end results were powerful, but I couldn’t stand to spend more than an hour painting, so I was not successful.  And while I still have an intense connection to a unique choral music tradition, there is still a disconcerting disconnect between what I really believe and the words coming out of my mouth.  It is only when I write – or converse with relatively like-minded people – that I am the fullest expression of “me.”  In a recent interview, I was asked what I saw myself doing in five years’ time.  I said, “Living in England and writing.”  I did not get the position!  But the moment those five words came out of my mouth, I felt a jolt.  The truth about “home” and my identity had finally come out.

Sorry, Mom.  And yet…I know that she was a deep thinker, too, with an extraordinary speaking voice.  In today’s world, she might have clawed her way out of the box as well!  As time goes on, perhaps more and more youngsters will be encouraged to think their wildest, most independent thoughts and dreams, and express them openly. And their parents will say, "Bravo!" Perhaps they are saying it today!

 

Inspiration

OK, so I guess it isn’t surprising that, at a big life transition, one might need some inspiration. 

But what always surprises me (but shouldn’t) is the synchronicity in these moments.  A life coach friend has just lent me a book which, based only on the first pages of the introduction, feels like it will revolutionize my life.  I had to take an hour to absorb only five pages or so, but I’m now so excited about this author’s infectious energy that I cannot wait to make my way through the entire book and its exercises. Called “The Fire Starter Sessions: a Soulful and Practical Guide to Creating Success on your own Terms,” it’s by life coach Danielle Laporte and it was published in 2012 by Crown Archetype, New York.

Here are just a few standout sentences:

“You become a trailblazer by virtue of being your genuine self.  It is that simple – and that profound.” (xiii)

“Sometimes the courage to be true to yourself comes in the form of an out-loud declaration, a rebellion, or a love-drenched vow... authenticity is the muscle that helps you shake up beliefs, policies, and restraints, and gives you the strength to do the things some say can’t be done.” (xv)

“Your way. Slightly reckless, downright defiant, uncharted, seat-of-the-pants, make it up as you go, not a leg to stand on, what will your mother say?” (xix)

Goodness, that last sentence summarizes my whole adult life, odd, considering I was the most conventional, play-by-the-rules young girl, and that my passion is something practically medieval.  I have to love anyone who helps me see my uncharted, bushwhacking path in a whole new, positive light! 

There are three or four blog essays lined up on my computer…I am falling behind because I’m living somewhere where my computer and the wi-fi don’t seem to completely communicate.  But I bless the fact that I finally have a computer, and access to wi-fi (no matter how wobbly), so as odd as it seems, I’m really moving forward!  And I have a funny feeling that my path took a little detour simply so I could be introduced to this book.  I’ll let you know down the road if there are any more brilliant “zingers” and what they are the catalyst for.

 

 

Lunar Eclipse

Just a reminder that there will be a "super moon" lunar eclipse tomorrow night.  The best viewing sounds like it will be from about 10 to 11 pm, US eastern time. 

I don't know about the deep astrological or astronomical meaning of this event, but I do know that, as I get older, the more and more astonished I am by the beauty and power of the stars, planets and sky phenomena.  Venus literally woke me up about a week ago, like a giant flashlight in my face.  How it could be that bright, I don't know.  We are surrounded by marvels.

So if you are like me, staying up to ten or eleven tomorrow night will be a stretch, but it should be worth it!  See you next week!

Big Sister

I guess some of the lists I've done the last few days have helped.  For the first time since my brother died over two months ago, I feel somewhat at peace.  You can have spent years doing "spiritual work" but this kind of loss just throws things into turmoil, doesn't it?  I don't sense his presence right now, but I have had periodic snapshots of this blonde, laughing kid, bubbly and energetic, as he was, in a way, right to the end.  I was always the serious big sister, dark haired and kind of a worry wart, trying to keep my brothers from getting into trouble.  How, exactly, do you keep two young boys from mischief?  It was a lost cause!  Whether it was bee stings, or roughhousing in the back deck of the station wagon, or splashing on the waters of Lake Champlain in tiny tippy little blue plastic boats, "the boys" were a bundle of energy.  But they always had fun...being older big sister, "fun" is something I've kind of had to learn, and am still learning!

When someone commiserated with me at the memorial service, I said, "yeah, it was not a good week for being a big sister."  And I realize that somehow I had brought with me into adulthood that sense that I needed to protect my brothers. Once we all reached adulthood, I'm sure that role must have expired...but Andrew's death made me realize I had never quite released it.  Over these last two months, it's taken a bit of doing, but I have finally accepted that I was a great (although, at times, irritating) big sister early on, when I needed to be.  Then all of us went our separate directions, to totally different lives.  Now the family equation has changed again.  Two-plus months on, I'm just beginning to feel at peace with this new reality, and to give myself permission to be the bubbly one from time to time! 

"What if?"

Sometimes, you just have mornings (or middles of the night) when it is simply impossible to come up with a list of positive affirmations.  Something is weighing on you, or making you anxious or sad, and you just can’t couch it in upbeat language or find a positive “spin” on it.  I absolutely believe Abraham- Hicks and other authors who say that it is crucial to find a way to feel at least somewhat better immediately, and that spinning one’s wheels in negativity is not an option because it can lead to a downward spiral.

There are two things I try to do in these circumstances.

The first is, to write a series of questions starting with “What if…?”  What if I had the power to change my situation? (Which of course I do, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.)  What if a solution is already in place?  What if there’s an answer waiting to come to me today or tomorrow, if I just listen?  What if such-and-such will happen in perfect timing?  What if I can choose to be happy, no matter how it turns out?...etc. Sometimes it helps to pretend “what if” the solution I am looking for has already happened, just to try to bring my heart to a place of comfort and calm. The tricky thing with positive affirmations is that if I am energetically too far from the statement I am making (“I love the feeling of abundance” when I am poor, or “I love having plenty of time to do what I love” when I am being run ragged), then it just causes too much inner turmoil and the affirmation is not effective.  Somehow, “what if” questions seem to more gently move me out of a stuck place. 

Another thing I do when I’m in this situation is to try to envision where I am at as one side of a chasm, and the thing I want is at the other side of the chasm.  Now, that would normally not seem to be an encouraging picture, except in my “game,” my rule is that there is a bridge across the chasm, and that bridge is love.  Moment by moment, over the next few minutes, hours or even days, I try to find things in my life that I love, or things in my anticipated scenario that I love.  I write them down, immediately, if possible.  I’ve never made a picture or collage, but that would be effective too.  Love is the only bridge forward out of fear or negativity, and as I scurry along the edge of the chasm, just knowing that there is a bridge takes the panic away.  And, as usual with my lists, even if the things I “love” are only fireflies, or the fact that it’s a sunny day, that’s OK!  Love in any form is the route forward across the bridge, out of the “eddy” into the stream, or whatever metaphor you are living right now!

I’ve even been trying these techniques when I contemplate some of the really frightening, intractable world situations in front of us, like the refugee crisis, or the islands of plastic in the ocean.  “What if the people of the world come together from this event and learn to be kinder to one another?”  “What if we learn to love and take care of the earth now?”  “Where is the love in this picture?”  The goal isn't to become another Pollyanna, and this isn't a replacement for action in many situations, but by putting it out there in what the Quakers call a “query,” a question requiring some contemplation but not necessitating an immediate answer, my heart may stay open in love rather than close up reactively or in fear.  "What if?" may open the door to solutions, both personal and global.  We all need that in the middle of the night.

 

Passions

The other weekend, the bus that took me to New York City went through Lake George, NY, and our timing was such that we beat (by the looks of it, by only a few minutes) the start of a parade of classic cars.  The main street of the village (which is a jumble of arcades, tattoo shops, diners, souvenir shops, etc.) was lined with chairs, and people had even climbed onto the roofs of cars and the beds of pick-up trucks, eagerly awaiting the start of the procession.  On the edge of town, a huge park seemed to be crammed to the gills with classic cars, some of which were lining up to drive through town.

As happens a lot recently, I was aware of both “the old me” and “the new me” at work.  The old me was the snob.  There was nothing, nothing about the town, the people (with their sunburns, cigarettes, short shorts) or even the cars, that interested or appealed to me in any way, and I recognized the old impulse to critique, judge or even make fun of the scene we were driving through.  

And yet there is nothing like finally identifying and embracing your own “weird”/unique passions to soften your judgmental side.  I mean, let’s face it, there may be millions of human enthusiasms – bug collecting, chess, Cajun swing dancing, mountain climbing, organic farming, meteorology, astrology, astronomy, archaeology, scuba diving, liberal causes, conservative causes, quilting, bird watching… And in 2015, there are 7 billion or so souls on this planet, all with an utterly singular imprint of nationality, gender, age, beliefs, work skills, and hobbies or passions.  This is life, this is the Divine continually growing, expanding and expressing.  And yet no one of us is meant to be enthused by all options, all passions.  It would be impossible.  We may have had the kind of excellent liberal arts education that helped us appreciate a full palette of human experience and expression.  We may be bombarded every day with news, information, books and magazines, and other people’s (or news organizations’, or advertisers’) enthusiasms.  But we don’t need to confuse them with ours, and in fact we will find life profoundly confusing if we confuse them with ours, as I did for too long.  As we proceed through life, we gradually identify what “floats our boat” and then are drawn, Law of Attraction-style, to the people who love the same thing, the place where our passion is best nurtured, and the organizations or events where we can learn more about our passion or passions.  This is how it should be.

Looking out at the classic car scene, yes, it felt alien and boring to me, as would a conference on information technology, a class on genetics, The Wall Street Journal, a country music concert, a roller derby or a poetry slam.  Heck, I’m beginning to realize that relatively few topics interest me in the least (the handful I love, I really love.)  But the “new me” recognized the passion, curiosity and appreciation in all those people pulling folding chairs out onto the curb, and gave them the inner “thumbs up.”  You go, folks.  We’re all in this together.  We all have our “thing” (with its parade or procession!)  Mine isn’t yours, and yours isn’t mine, but that’s OK!  It sure felt better, as the bus pulled back onto the Northway, to feel a sense of common humanity rather than condescension.  That’s not my tribe.  That’s not where I want to be or who I want to be with.  But in the larger scheme of things, we are part of the same tribe.  The tribe of passion for something.  The tribe of life.  Nice to meet you!

Eddies

Autumn, this year, seems to be coming late to the Northeast.  Leaves are still green, the air is warm, and although the quality of the light is changing, the cloudless blue skies are belying the calendar.  Or trying to. 

On the Liz path, there is, once again, a certain surreal quality to yet another fall in yet another “eddy.”  It’s beautiful in Northern New York, and in so many ways, I’m in a far more comfortable stopping point than the last few Septembers.  Looking back, I realize that for the last five years, early fall has tended to find me “gearing up” for a new foray into English church music, from a home and/or work situation that was, like an eddy by the side of a rapidly flowing river, kind of improbable, unsettled and relatively still.  Each of these eddies had seemed like dead ends in and of themselves, circling and spiraling around seemingly without purpose, and yet each made possible – because of their temporary nature – a winter musical experience that I would have been unlikely to be able to “go for” if I had been more settled or tied down.  Most people would understandably be alarmed by undertaking this kind of moment-to-moment journey in their 50’s, but I was more alarmed by the notion of not doing it.  I knew that if I were to have any significant experiences in this field, it had to happen now.  And I guess I grasped that, while there might be some rhyme or reason to how it all turned out, there also might not be, and I just had to go for it.  I had not followed the normal path that men had done for generations, so all bets were off anyway!

The dream?  A singing position as a “lay clerk” in an English cathedral or an American equivalent; and/or to make a name for myself in the more scholarly branch of the field with my Herbert Howells articles; and/or possibly to get into a PhD program in England based on my Howells studies.  If these three intersecting worlds might be said to be banquet tables, my efforts these last few years have yielded dramatic yet not lasting results, kind of as if – from behind a barrier -- I snatched one or two extraordinary morsels of food, the best food I’ve ever eaten, but have not been able to sit down to the main meal.  I sang for nine months in the mixed men and women’s choir at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York (approximately one choral evensong a week – a thrill!), I sang a “dream” evensong service in England, was one of the first women ever to audition for an English cathedral choir, saw and heard girls and women singing in English university and cathedral choirs, got to know some prominent English church musicians, and published articles that I hoped would “wow” the music field, but essentially seem to have dropped like quiet pebbles into a still pond.  If these sound like modest accomplishments, they really aren’t.  If you had asked me in 2010 if any of this would have been possible, I would have said, no way on earth!  And when I was younger and the field was entirely male, even envisioning such experiences would have been considered delusional.  So this time period has been magical and fast flowing, punctuated by quiet eddies by the side of the stream where the water seemed to flow backwards for a time.

This year’s eddy, however, has a decidedly different quality to it.  Five years ago I was 54, and now I am 59.  The difference is really monumental.  It has to do with both energy level and goals.  There’s not much I have to tell any of you over 55 about energy!  Goal-wise, I realize that there is nothing further that I need to prove to myself.  I know that I have the passion, the talent and the intellectual capacity to have been successful in some branch of this field had it been open to me 40 years ago, or if I had had a different level of confidence.  If I had doubts about that earlier in my life, now I don’t.  And so today, I don’t feel the need to “pursue” these opportunities any more, or to push the river.  It’s OK.  Younger women and men will take the lead now. There may be opportunities in the future for summer singing at English cathedrals, but my bigger goal right now, as I head into my sixties, is becoming settled and content.  The difference is, I honor my passion for English church music and everything English (literature, art, music, history, landscape, movies, architecture, humor…) and don’t intend this time to run away, as I did in my late 20’s.  That is the stream of my life.  And as I find myself in this fall’s eddy by the side of the stream, my job is to find that little surge of life that will take me downstream – and release the urge to fight or control it!