Transition Zones

"We are constantly in a situation of applying the condition of re-adjustment." - Gregge Tiffen

As day breaks this morning, we’re in the path of two colliding weather systems – a winter storm moving in from the north and west, the remnants of a hurricane from the east. The beautiful vistas I often share are hidden in the clouds. These two systems won’t compete. They will simply meet and create our weather for the next couple days. At the moment it’s a gentle rain. The showers could continue, or they could become snow or flash flooding.

It’s a transition time, that time when it can be frosty one morning and 50 degrees the next. It’s a time for completing the harvest on the one hand, preparing for winter on the other. Re-adjustment. We’ve brought in all but the hardiest root veggies and a few winter squash. I’m curious whether the green tomatoes will ripen slowly enough to last until Thanksgiving as they did last year.

Preparing for winter in the mountains means procuring and stacking wood, shifting the summer fire ‘go bags’ (those things that I’d need to survive and those things I treasure in the event of an evacuation due to fire) to the winter ‘emergency travel bag’ (what I need to survive in an emergency on the road), and making sure that I have food and water on hand for at least a couple weeks in the event of a major storm. It also means moving clothes around in the closet – putting away the short sleeves and pulling out the turtlenecks, sweaters and scarves for soon those 50 degree mornings will be just a memory and the frost will be a deep freeze. Re-adjustment continued.

And, after a busy active summer – buying and improving a home along with opening a B&B, I notice an internal transition as well. I feel a pull to draw inward, not to hibernate but to slow down, to assess my ‘year to date’, and, in this time between the full moon lunar eclipse this week and the solar eclipse that will come with the new moon in a couple weeks, to look ahead to what experiences I want to create in the winter months ahead. Re-adjusting from the inside out.

That’s the invitation that the change of seasons (any change really!) brings. So as you don the winter clothes and put away your summer duds (or the reverse, if you happen to be in the southern hemisphere), give yourself the time and attention to invite your soul to join the party. 

What is its longing as light of days shortens and the darkness makes its presence more known?

Create New Stories We Must

"You must unlearn what you have learned." - Yoda

I can imagine Yoda observing our world today and advising us from his deep wisdom to create new stories. You see, our stories come from our thoughts and our beliefs. And, they seem to have a way, consciously or not, of strengthening our beliefs, even those that don’t serve us.

Then, we wake up to find ourselves mired in difficult challenges, worry, or fear and looking outside for the cause. But when we have the courage to look within, we create an opportunity to find the real cause and, if we choose, to shift it.

At this time last year, shortly after I started these weekly posts, in the midst of an unplanned move, I discovered that my phone and internet provider could not provide service to my new location. That situation and how I chose to navigate it deepened my conviction of just how powerful my thoughts are. I have a clearer understanding that the Universe is designed to follow our thoughts and put them into form. I’m unlearning what I have learned and, with my new learning, a new story (okay, a new life) is emerging.

And so it can be, it must be, for all of us – individually and collectively. If you can’t yet feel it in you, then look around to see the call for new stories: 400,000 marching to create a new story for our environment; hundreds of events worldwide calling for non-violent approaches to our differing points of view; and the Findhorn Foundation’s New Story Summit beginning this weekend (you can follow it on Facebook or at http://newstoryhub.com/).

In my work with clients as in my own life, creating awareness of the story is a starting point for making change. Earlier this week I asked a client “what might it be like to take on loving your role as manager?” She’d come to coaching to get clarity about whether she wanted to continue to serve in management. In our coaching, we explored the stories she’d told about herself and about managing. In response to my challenge, she quickly declared “I’m blessed to use my skill and talent and be grateful for it. I can focus on that … and remember the love. It’s so simple.”

Simple, yes, but unlearning what we have learned and reinforcing our new learning daily in our thoughts, language, and our actions is a process that requires diligence, practice, and (one more thing) “PATIENCE YOU MUST HAVE my young padawan.”

Challenge for the Week: Notice a story that you tell in many ways to yourself and to others. What have you created with that story? Is it what you want? What new story can begin to take its place?

Scrambled

"There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen." - Rumi

I’m away from home this week. Still in the beautiful Colorado Rocky Mountains, but attending a conference in at a resort/conference center in northern Colorado.

When I returned to my cozy ‘home away from home’ (a nice little condo with a comfy bed and kitchen so I can have my morning tea) last night, the only word that came to mind about how I felt was ‘scrambled’.   Unlike my life at home, attending the conference puts me in the position of being with people (several hundred) the entire day. You know, breakfast at one of the round tables so big that you have to yell across the table to meet those you are dining with; walking with the crowd from session to session; listening to others speak. Then on to lunch, eating while trying to listen to a fascinating and inspiring speaker. More afternoon sessions, then, finally the opening gala reception with yet more food and great (though loud) music.

Years ago I thrived (or thought that I did) on such events and the hustle, bustle and busyness of life. In no way do I want to make anyone wrong for living that life. And, what is so clear to me after a good night’s sleep, is that it’s no longer my life. If you know me or have been reading these posts over the past year, you may be thinking ‘well, duh, yeah Cindy, no way that’s your life’ (I had the same thought as the light bulb slowly began to glow) but I realized at a deep level that busyness muffles the voice that ‘doesn’t use words’.

Without that voice I am ‘scrambled’. I need my inner compass and whatever time or practice it takes each day to find it. With that awareness and giving myself extra time this morning to be quiet and listen, I can prepare differently and walk back into the conference environment with clarity about why I’m here and what I want to learn to take back to my community with me. Perhaps I won’t attend as many sessions, but I trust that I’ll make the right connections to leave with information, insights and connections to answer the questions I came with. That trust moves me from scrambled to peaceful and ready to navigate the noise of the day.

Reflection for the Week: How do you listen to the voice that doesn’t use words?

Paying Attention

"There is no separation between nature and you. You are to live here with a sense of the planet and you as a vital unit because, in effect, you are that vitality." - Gregge Tiffen [from The Language of a Mystic: Completion available from www.p-systemsinc.com]

What’s your first thought when you look at this picture of Luke and his friends, Mister and EllaBelle? What about their nature calls them to the attention they are paying to my friend on a recent hike in response to her speaking the word ‘treat’?

Although I witnessed the scene first hand from nearby, I didn’t see or sense the rapt attention that I see in the picture. This got me to thinking about what I pay attention to as well the degrees of that attention. The dogs were definitely paying attention to an outside source (i.e. person with treats!), but what is in their nature that prompts this? Is it simply the possibility that a tasty reward is at hand?

It’s no secret that I love nature. I hope that you do too! My love has deepened over the last year as I’ve paid more attention to the beauty that surrounds me. I notice not just the mountain and valley vistas that change with the light day to day, but also the land, the rocks, the trees immediately outside my door. Over the past several weeks, I’ve paid even closer attention to this immediate environment.

I’ve also listened to the land, asking where on the property would be the appropriate place to build a labyrinth. The land answered and this weekend, the layout was completed with sticks and stones cooperating to mark the path. (The attention required to complete the layout is a story for another day.)

Whether you choose to live in a city or in the woods as I do, nature is always present and asking for your attention. Perhaps she has a message. Perhaps she simply needs your acknowledgment and your love. After all you are her vitality. Nature needs you as much as you need and rely on her. And, at the end of the day she will have her way.

Question for the Week: What in nature is calling you to pay attention in a new way?

Adapting Is Our (Response)Ability

"In this planetary school where adaptability is one of the key teaching assignments, making adjustments is a constant demand." - Gregge Tiffen [from The Language of a Mystic: Cycles available from www.p-systemsinc.com]

Throughout this activity-filled month, I’ve had an awareness of how many life changes have come forth in this, the eighth month of the year. It seems that there is something in my life rhythms that calls forth endings and beginnings in August.

One of the biggest changes occurred 35 years ago, August 6, 1979, when my mother died. Two weeks later, my uncle, a fatherly presence for all the years since my own father’s death, died.

With these events, my life suddenly held different opportunities. Looking back, I see now that they presented the opportunity to adapt. How did I want life to be? What would holidays now look like? What changes were needed? What was possible?

Fast forward to August, 2013. Just one year ago the house that I rented (and loved!) for several years was sold, presenting the opportunity to take stock, discern my needs and desires, assess options, choose, adapt, move forward.

Earlier this month yet another new cycle began (this one fully initiated by me!) with the opening of Dragonfly House (website coming soon!!) and the arrival of the first guests to my bed and breakfast retreat home.  A new dance has begun!

I’m discovering that a life worth living is filled with change and opportunities to adapt. Struggle in life comes from trying to keep life and things the same after a change event has occurred.

With every change in life there is choice. Will I step out onto the floor and dance with this change, making the most of every step and crazy turn it may take? Or, will I sit on the sideline, arms crossed over my chest, and miss the moves, those opportunities right there well within my reach?

I choose the dance floor. What about you?

Question for the Week: What change in your life is calling you to the dance floor?

Seeds of Life

"Thoughts are the seeds of life." - Cindy Reinhardt

One year ago this week, I launched the The Zone blog. It seemed to come forth not from a single seed, but from many planted throughout life. Yet, perhaps somewhere inside me was a single seed that finally was ready to germinate.

When I penned that first blog, I promised an eclectic approach to life and success with a focus on reclaiming personal power and supporting a shift to creating more care, compassion, collaboration and community. I hope that I’ve fulfilled that as much for you as I have for me.

I said that I wanted to challenge our thinking (yours and mine!), poking around the edges of what’s possible, exploring how nature and ancient wisdom define and guide us to success. Only you know whether these weekly excursions have elicited that for you. For me, the discipline of this weekly post has sharpened my observation of nature and self, bringing forth a sense of personal satisfaction.

When I launched last August, I didn’t know that I’d soon be in the midst of moving. I had no (conscious) idea that the home I was offered as temporary housing by a friend would, like dog in a shelter looking for its ‘forever’ family, claim me as its steward. But somewhere, like the seeds that burst forth The Zone, different seeds were ready sprout in new ways.

Those seeds of home, quiet, nurture and nature brought forth this August’s launch of Dragonfly House Crestone. I welcomed my first guests to this place of peace last week. The next guests arrive later today. It seems that it is a part of my natural rhythm that seeds of change bring forth blooms in the form of new (ad)ventures in August. That’s a new awareness for me to reflect on as I look ahead.

Every seed has within it, the potential to develop fully into its full essence. The pine cone brings forth a beautiful tree. The pea pod, nutritious food; and marigold seeds, splashes of color and protection from tomato loving critters. These, like loving thoughts, deserve our care and nurturing.

Other seeds, like the tiny stickers that grab Luke’s fur to get a ride to fertile ground are like those thoughts that persist, yet don’t serve us at all. I think that I’m learning to be as meticulous with my thoughts as I am in combing Luke after each walk to remove those stickers, refusing to give them new, fertile ground to grow on next year.

Reflection for the Week: What thoughts do you need to comb from the fur of your consciousness?

Reflections on Nature and Remodeling

"The mind within does the real seeing, the real interpreting of what the eyes look upon. The eyes can truly be called ‘the windows of the soul’." - Ernest Holmes

I always thought that the bible verse about the eyes being windows of the soul meant that when you look into another’s eyes you can see their soul. Until reading a selection from The Science of Mind that included the above quote, I’d never considered the idea that how I see the world, more particularly the events that I manifest into my life, is a reflection of my soul. Duh, of course it is. And, yet this BFO (blinding flash of the obvious) deepens my awareness that I am always at choice about how/what I see.

In the earthen dam that was washed out on Sunday in a deluge of rain and hail, I can see a huge problem that I inherited when I bought the property and that someone else is to blame. Or, I can see an opportunity to commune with my land and the surrounding land as well as with others who know more about drainage than I to create the best course of action. Do I choose fear and anger? Or, do I choose faith and love?

If I truly believe that every event in my life is there for me and my learning and if I am aware of that belief, then most likely I will choose faith and love. Then I’ll throw in a dash of curiosity: what’s possible now?

Perhaps I would more closely reflect how nature deals with challenges, including those brought to her courtesy of we humans. Remember the western wood peewee nesting outside my front door a few weeks back? Last weekend, just before starting construction of a new deck right below her nest, I thought she’d abandoned it and there were no babies. I climbed up to remove the nest and to my amazement there were two small furry gray beings pulsing. I climbed down and ‘momma bird’ soon arrived to warm her babes. A few days later, two beaks appeared and momma began to feed them. Yesterday they were more active as construction in and around them continued. This morning, the nest is empty, the babies fledged, out of the nest to make their way in the world.

Observing momma and her nestlings living above the chaos of construction noise, people coming and going and hollering back and forth all day for a week, made me present to how I’m navigating the remodeling projects in my new home. My eyes are seeing beauty unfold in the new tile, fresh paint and little touch ups that I’m choosing to do. And, for the most part, my being has danced with the unexpected oversights in planning (mine and the contractor’s) or his (and my) idiosyncrasies.

Luke too has simply observed as his quiet home became a beehive of activity.

Thus, I’m not only experiencing the pleasure of the fresh, new look in my home and the joy of preparing her to receive and nurture guests, I am filled with joy and personal satisfaction about the process. What could be better that that?

Reflection for the Week: How would your life shift, if you knew that everything holds the potential to serve your learning and growth?

Mitigation With Love

"There are lots of things, including changing the kind of inner dialog, that can mitigate anxiety." - Scott Stossel

Mitigation is on my mind this week as I commissioned an awesome crew to help me mitigate the property surrounding my new home. I took on this project with a healthy respect for the potential that exists here for wildfires and, more importantly, with love for the land and the trees. I wanted to give them new life, something that removing dead branches does for a tree. I want to be a good steward of this land.

As I began thinking about this week’s post, I wondered ‘just what does mitigation have to do with life’?

Mitigation is defined as ‘lessening the force or intensity of something unpleasant’; ‘the act of making a condition or consequence less severe’; and ‘the process of becoming milder, gentler, less severe’ (thank you dictionary.com).

Early this morning, I noticed that unlike the 48 weeks prior to this one, I felt tense about what to write. I tossed in a dash of ‘should’ (really Cindy, you should start thinking about this earlier). The trust I feel each week about the message revealing itself waivered. Breathe.

Then, as it always does, the message began to come clear: ‘mitigate the pressure on yourself’. Ahhhh, yes, that. First step: the morning walk. This morning the air is clean, crisp, and cool after thunderstorms dropped blessed rain. Breathe that in. Notice how happy the earth feels under my feet, soft with the new moisture. Smell the freshness. Be grateful. Give thanks. Nature has her ways of mitigating tension and pressure. When we allow her to she shows us the way.

Thoughts and ideas began to flow. The process of becoming ‘milder, gentler, or less severe’, personal mitigation starts within. At its best, love is the foundation.

Like the fire mitigation project I completed this week, thoughts anchored in love not fear make life flow with ease. In choosing loving thoughts, I’m better able to walk through life with grace. Love, patience, gratitude, compassion are just a few of the seeds I can use to mitigate from the inside out.

Unlike the fire mitigation project, personal mitigation is an ongoing process. It requires my presence and awareness to notice when dead branches show up as thoughts that don’t serve me. For only with that awareness can I make the choice to replace fear with love, impatience with patience, loathing with compassion, and ungratefulness with deep reverence and gratitude.

Reflection for the Week: Look deep inside to discover any thoughts that need to be mitigated. Insert love to replace each and every one.

Independence Is The Law

"Dependency is a basic violation of Universal law." - Gregge Tiffen

There is no question in my mind that the radical, revolutionary visionaries that founded the United States were deeply in touch with Universal law and sought to create this nation aligned with Universal principles.

I also believe that we’ve strayed as a country and as individuals from living fully into the independence that was a pillar of their creation and still is immutable Universal law. Taking responsibility for operating from independence requires attention, awareness, and (gulp) courage.

I’m coming to experience (and thus to deepen my belief) that at any moment, in any circumstance I have the power, the free will to choose differently. The rewards for making those choices are vast and deep, the most important being the joy of self-satisfaction and its deepening to self-love. These are not selfish, self-centered ways of being. Rather, they are what we are meant to experience as we chart the path of our lives in alignment with the unique blueprint that we each came to this life with.

The process of purchasing a home provided many opportunities to do just that. I did my best to rise to each occasion (and I forgive myself for not always doing so or for being less than gracious through part of the process). As I look back at the hoops that I jumped through and the amazing support that I received, I’m aware that at every turn, every hurdle I remained at choice. I never felt a sense of being a victim or of ‘having to do’. I chose with each hurdle to act from ‘okay, here’s my next step, let’s see where it leads’ rather than ‘I have to do this because, if I don’t, they will (or won’t) …’.

Either way, my actions might well have been the same. But the gift of making them from a place of choice protected me from any sense that I could lose or be hurt. I was willing to ‘let the chips fall where they may’. At its core that is the promise and the gift of independence.

Today, I not only own a home that I love (and look forward to sharing with others who need and want respite from the busy, noisy world), I have a deep sense of gratitude and satisfaction for how I walked through the process. The home and other material things I can’t take with me when I’m complete with this life, this body. But, the satisfaction, the gratitude and whatever wisdom I gained from the experience are forever a part of my consciousness.

Invitation For The Week: As you bask in the stars and stripes, the red, white and blue, enjoy a burger and your beverage of choice, take time not just to be grateful for the promise of independence, but reflect on the attitude you bring to your life’s choices and the freedom those choices represent. Are you operating as you are meant to: independent of all others? Rinse, repeat, and ask again.

Summertime in the Cycle

"Be aware of yourself. If you are not doing what you want to do and where you want to do it, you are out of your cycle." - Gregge Tiffen, Impatience Fishes and Empty Pond

In two days we reach the midway point in the earth’s annual cycle. We’ve come a long way from the shortest day of light, Winter Solstice, to the longest, the Summer Solstice. In those six short (or long, depending on your perspective) months dark has given way to light. Stillness and quiet stepped aside and invited us to dance and engage more fully in life outside of us. The light, vibrant, active energy of summertime that lay dormant under a blanket of snow has come alive yet again.

Flora offer a wonderful illustration of the contrast between the seasons and this coming of the time of growth and vitality. As winter approaches trees drop their leaves and turn inward. In spring, new leaves appear. And, now dressed fully in their new green, trees provide shade. They bear fruit for our nourishment and eating pleasure and for their own procreation. Flowers, dormant in winter, have their own cycles that bring them out into the light to show their colors, like this cactus on our morning walk.

Elsewhere in nature, streams frozen in winter, begin to trickle in spring and now flow fully in summer’s warmth. And we, though we have lost so much of our connection with the nature’s cycles, somehow naturally follow this pattern.

This year especially I notice that I am. Ideas and projects given quiet, thoughtful attention in winter have come to life. In the cold, dark of winter they were but seeds of possibility, dreams, ideas. Like all seeds though they contain the full potential of what they can be and with the light and warmth of summer, they are bursting forth.

Some days they seem to carry me rather than me having to move them along. Those are the days of magic, flow and synchronicity. When I look back on them, they are the days when I listened and followed whatever my internal compass seemed to say.

Nature’s cycles remind me that everything has its divine right time. The more deeply I’m aware of and in touch with those cycles, the more patient I am with cycles outside of me. My gratitude for the tomatoes on the vine feeds my patience, knowing that one day I’ll taste the wonder of that gift. I’m more accepting and patient when I’m in tune with my own rhythms. I hear those inner nudgings to take action ‘now’ as well as those that suggest I wait, allow things to unfold in their time.

That’s the dance in which the experiments of life and experience of curiosity become an increased capacity to adjust and to adapt without losing who I am. In the longer light, warmth, and outward flow of summer with all of its activity, as I reach out in many directions, let me not forget my own rhythms and cycles in this larger dance that life presents.

REFLECTION FOR THE WEEK: Are you doing what you want, when and where you want?