I wrote a thank you note to myself today. It’s addressed to the part of me that seems to find the strength to face each day even though other parts of me are so very tired. I don’t think of the strong part of me very often much less take the time to thank her so I thought it was about time. . .especially today. You’re welcomed to read it if you like.
Dear Strong and Steady Me,
I wanted to take the time to send you a note of appreciation. This morning when I got up, my stomach hurt and there was a knot in my chest. It seems the violent images on TV, the climbing death numbers, the realization that I will spend another day in this house, and the feelings of disconnection are becoming too heavy for my very tired self to manage.
But you reminded me to make a cup of tea. It helped to settle my stomach. Then, you encouraged me to show up honestly with some friends on a Zoom call and the heartfelt conversation helped the knot in my chest to loosen. At noon time, your kindness suggested I sit in a comfy spot while I ate warm soup for lunch. And then because you know me so well, you nudged me out the front door so I would go for a walk because you know that outside spaces always soothe my inside turmoil.
I just got back from that walk and my cheeks are still cold from the winter air, but I didn’t want another moment to pass before I said, “Thank you!” My very tired self often forgets that my strong and steady self has always been there for me. You need to know that I see you and I am thankful you are a part of me.
I know the days ahead may still be challenging so I will listen to you more carefully. When you say, “Rest,” I will. When you remind me to take a break, I will. When you insist that I turn off the news and watch a comedy, I will. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You’ve been so good to me and now I promise to be good to you.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about space. The shared space we’re learning to negotiate as our homes have become offices, classrooms, and gyms during the pandemic. The space we offer each other when we welcome all possible expressions of preferences and opinions. The public spaces we as a nation have collectively decided are cherished. The space I give myself when I move slower and gentler, treating myself with compassion.
In the Jewish tradition, personal space is believed to be sacred. In fact, the Babylonian Talmud, the largest literary body of Jewish law, includes the instruction that you must not enter a house suddenly, not even your own home, as it might disturb others who are inside and perhaps engaging in personal activities or otherwise enjoying their own privacy.
I love this little practical instruction — no doubt it helps us to be good house-mates! It also speaks to the importance of all that space itself encompasses. By entering slowly, respectful of who might be inside, we’re intentionally stepping back, giving others space. When we’re inside, we’re free to enjoy our own space and privacy.
I’m reminded of Exodus 25:8, “Make for me a sacred space and I shall dwell amongst you.” The space we give to others is sacred and the space we reside in to express ourselves is just as sacred. The Divine joins us in both the giving and taking of space.
Whatever you choose to do today, whether it’s retreating to your private space or making space for others, may you find rest and healing in your sacred space.
This week I was honored to deliver a eulogy for one of our dear residents, Ellie Wells, who passed away in December. In preparation for writing Ellie’s eulogy, I spoke with her children so I could represent her life more fully. When I speak with family members and ask them to tell me about their loved one’s life, there is often a tendency to focus on the positive parts of a loved one’s life and remember the many happy times they shared together. When I spoke with Ellie’s children, I was impressed with their willingness to openly share the difficult times, as well as the joyful parts, of their mother’s life. They recognized both of these experiences are what shaped Ellie’s character and her unique wholeness.
Delivering Ellie’s eulogy has prompted me to reflect on the Yin and Yang of Chinese philosophy dating back to the I Ching of 700 BCE. Yin and Yang are opposite and complementary energies. They are fundamentally balanced with one another, and interdependent. One cannot exist without the other, and nothing can be purely one or the other; together they create a whole.
As human beings, it is both the joys and the sorrows – Yin and Yang experiences – that give us the ability to grow, to learn, and to shape our unique wholeness of character. What are the Yin and Yang experiences in your life that create wholeness?
As I sit at my desk and look out of my window, I am contemplating yet another daily reflection.
It is hard to know what else to say in this time of chaos, fear, destruction, illness, and death. There is so much heaviness on all of our hearts, and all over the world.
But as I look at the pine tree, I see the white breasted nuthatch running up and down the tree upside down looking for nuts. There are juncos hopping on the ground. Juncos only stay on the ground, so it is easy to identify them with their white bill and white breast. I have not seen very many birds in these trees this winter. Seeing them now makes me think that spring is not too far away. The juncos reside in Canada during the warmer weather of spring and summer.. They come “south” to the winters of New England because the weather is less harsh and there is more food. Once I see that the juncos have left, and gone back to Canada, I know for sure that spring is around the corner.
I am not an avid bird watcher, but I do like to learn about their habits. The nuthatch is the “upside down” bird. They walk down the tree from top to bottom. They reach the bottom of the trunk, and then run back up the tree. The theory is that the reason they run upside down is that they find nuts that other birds have missed. They take a nut and place it between pieces of bark and then pound it open with their beak. By summer they eat insects.
The few minutes that I watch these birds, my mind is not focusing on all of the daily world troubles. Nature reminds us that the divine is all around us.
It also lets me recall the passage from Matthew 6:26-27
Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet Godfeeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying adda single hour to your life?
May you find consolation in the beauty of nature today.
Reflection for the day written by CPE Intern Mary Anne Totten
Waterfalls are part of nature’s great beauty. Scientists explain that waterfalls make us happy because of negative ions and serotonin. In a spiritual sense, the refreshing cleansing of water as it cascades over the earth can symbolize a release of emotion, renewal, and rejuvenation.
Try picturing the waterfall as a torrent of thoughts and emotions ever present in the day. Mindfulness is that space behind the waterfall. Step behind and see that the thoughts come and go as the water flows over the rocks.
Research has shown the calming effects of relaxation and meditation in healthcare. A couple times a day, stop and observe your thoughts and emotions. These short relaxation and meditation breaks bring calm to us and they result in better care for our residents too.
Tips for a relaxed & peaceful day:
Use four count breathing.
Imagine a serene placed you visited recently, perhaps a waterfall.
Without praise or blame, accept and love yourself as you are today.
Each tip can take less than 30 seconds. You can use these tips:
Before, during, or after a meeting or difficult conversation.
After a phone call.
After a resident interaction.
At the ‘top’ of every hour.
May you find peace and relaxation throughout the busy day.
Before the control-minded Modern (scientific) world took over, composers did not give musicians a speed, or tempo, for a piece of music. The right tempo depended on what type of piece it was and on what would sound and feel the most natural (the Italian term for this is tempo giusto).
I’ve observed that each of us has a natural tempo, depending on how we feel and what we are doing.
Sometimes the natural speed is more about a task. Sometimes the natural speed is about a whole day.
What feels like the natural speed for what you are doing now?
How similar or different is it from the speed at which you are actually operating at?
What would it take to bring the two into alignment?
Would three deep, soul-filling breaths help right now?
Would it help to know that the God of Abraham and Sarah does not hurry? (Because to hurry means being beholden to a force outside of yourself.)
We are not God, of course. Most of us have a boss who wants things done in a certain way by a certain time. But we can also make room for the divine. And making room for the divine in our hearts also helps us find a tempo for ourselves that feels the most natural.
In that moment between starting the wash and emptying the dishwasher or the space between packing lunches and paying the bills or the time between this email and the next task on your to-do list waits an invitation. If I’m honest, it’s one I’ve ignored for far too long.
The invitation mirrors my heart’s deepest longing, yet to respond means stepping into the space of heart’s emotions and soul’s sensitivities. I want to go there; I don’t want to do there. I have found comfort in this poem by Jane Hirshfield over and over again these past ten months. Somehow, her words fill me with just enough curiosity and courage to step softly into those emotional and sensitive places. When Light calls I long to meet it completely, and sometimes I don’t. May we find courage to step into those beautifully challenging and deeply healing places.
As I was cleaning the other day, I realized how different our house looks now as compared to a year ago. You know, before Covid, back when our house was simply our home and we actually left the house for things like school and work. Now we’re going on a year of our house serving multiple purposes. It’s still a place of refuge and relaxation, a couch to sit down on and cozy up with a good book or binge Netflix. But my husband who traveled full-time for twenty years is now working from our home office full-time, and so while our office has two desks, I haven’t sat at mine since March. I do most of my work from the dining room table. My desk in the office is now a staging area, the place you find packing tape, rulers, and the stapler. My son’s high school rotates between in-person and at-home classes; he works partly upstairs in his bedroom and partly on the opposite side of our dining table. The middle of the table is currently a no-man’s-land of various papers, a stack of cloth napkins, a bowl of clementines, and leftover Christmas candy. Actually eating at the dining table presents a challenge.
Despite my eyes seeing chaos and clutter, what surprised me is that I’m actually OK with the current state of our house. My typical standards of feeling that everything must have a place and essentially maintaining our home ever-ready for an open house are entirely out the window. It felt good to not react, to feel like I’ve experienced some growth in simply accepting things as they are. My mind went to the Exodus 3:5 verse: “the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” Yes, I thought, it’s holy chaos! Holy clutter! And rightfully so, after all, our homes these days are holy; we’re staying home to protect ourselves and protect others, to do our part as members of the one human family.
Feeling inspired, I decided to Google “prayer for clutter,” assuming I’d be validated in thinking that I’ve achieved some level of spiritual growth for accepting the condition of our home. Instead, I found various faith-based blogs on homekeeping. Sure, some of them offered practical advice for dealing with clutter, but they were largely from the perspective that clutter was something to be confessed and removed from your life in order to experience clarity of heart and mind. I can respect that thinking; it’s understandable that clutter can be an obstacle at times. But right now, I choose to welcome it into my life as holy.
So I invite you, the next time you look around your house and perhaps see the effects of Covid all around, to consider your clutter as holy. And since apparently a prayer for holy clutter doesn’t exist, I decided to write my own. I welcome you to pray with me:
Gracious and loving God, Who intimately knows our hearts in this difficult time we’re living through, Help us to accept things as they are, to let go of anxiousness and worry, to release expectations and welcome even the clutter that fills our homes as holy. Through Your Light that dwells within each of us and shines bright in the exact place where we are standing, We pray, Amen.
This morning, I offer an adapted prayer by Rev. Douglas Taylor for upliftment of the soul and spirit in these unsettling moments. It is sent with love and hope for peace.
Eternal Spirit,
From Whom all things come
And to Whom all things return.
Hear the yearning for peace that sings in our hearts.
Help us to find hope in the midst of despair.
Help us to reach out from our very being to transform the world
and to be transformed in ourselves.
Help us to know, despite the messy complexity of life,
that we do not labor in vain,
that peace will prevail,
and that hope is a powerful response in the face of difficulty.
Be thou an ever-present strength on the journey, O Spirit.
