All Hallow's Eve

"Each of us is a living spirit. When you’re dead, you’re not dead. You are very much alive." - Gregge Tiffen

Last week many in our community celebrated the life of a feisty artist who died just a few days shy of her 91st birthday. How her life was celebrated seemed to me to create a bridge between what we know as ‘living’ on this side and what we think of as ‘dead’ on the other. The ceremony itself and the words spoken by family and friends were a beautiful reminder that this body I inhabit is only one small slice in the bigger pie that is my life as a living spirit.

That event and the coming of Halloween on October 31 presented an opportunity to take a look at the nature of life as I understand it and at the messages that surround me in nature, natural billboards that proclaim “life everlasting”.

For me, trees carry this message beautifully in the cycles of the seasons and in what happens when the tree dies. The tree lives on long after its death. It may simply decompose in the forest, providing a rich environment for new tree life to sprout. Or, the dead tree may become firewood, like that I’ve been stacking, ready to break the morning chill.

In the autumn, brilliantly colored leaves that sprouted in spring’s warmth gently fall to the ground. At quick glance, the tree appears dead during the winter. But, it will burst forth again after the snow melts and it is touched by the warmth of the sun.

I believe life is like that on this planet we call home. When, this body is done, I believe that, like the tree, I will live on, continuing to develop, learn and grow. Then at some perfect future point, one that is just right for my learning, another body, another life will come along. And I’ll catch another ride.

This week as I sit by the fire in the quiet beauty of a fading fall, I ask to know more about the other side. I want a glimpse of what life is like beyond the bounds of this body that is, at least for now, my home.

Stack Wood. Carry Rocks.

"Before Enlightenment chop wood carry water, after Enlightenment, chop wood carry water." - Zen Proverb

This week I’ve been stacking wood in preparation for winter and carrying rocks up to the labyrinth I’m building in the woods behind Dragonfly House. Along the way, I discovered what a joy these tasks are when I engage in them mindfully. Yep, duh, smile (we all know this, right?)!

So often when doing such tasks, I find myself immersed in thinking about something else: the project I’m working on that isn’t going like I want it to, the long list of other things I could (or at that moment think I ‘should’) be doing, or who I can get to give me advice about a roof repair. More worry than thinking, if I’m honest. I came to the awareness this week that I was wasting energy, my precious energy. And, perhaps more importantly, I realized that I was depriving myself of joy.

And, so I shifted gears.

The task of hauling rocks up and placing them in the labyrinth, became an exercise in communing with each rock and with the land and the trees of the labyrinth space. As I let go, each rock spoke more clearly than the one before, guiding me where it was to be placed. Some of the rocks placed earlier asked to be moved. I joyfully granted their wish. In the energy of this sacred space, I began to deepen both my connection to all that is AND my independence and freedom as an individual. You might guess that I find this much more rewarding and productive than worry. Pure joy! And, I have a sense of satisfaction not only in completing the work, but also in my approach.

Now, as I’ve go out to stack wood each day, I set aside the projects and decisions around which I feel stuck. I fully engage in the geometric puzzle of stacking wood so that each stack is stable (don’t ask how many I’ve toppled along the way!) and allows air to move and further dry my fuel. More joy and satisfaction!

An added benefit is a sense that the experience has strengthened my patience muscle. As I shift back to those ‘stuck’ projects and decisions in the weeks ahead, I’m guessing that patience will serve me well. And, that they will move forward at just the right time and in just the right direction.

Success comes in many forms and this week, my own personal SuccessZone has been one of discovery and deepened conviction. To joy, satisfaction, and patience, I add gratefulness. Oh, and I didn’t miss a moment of the beauty of the colorful Autumn here in the Rockies!

Invitation for the Week: As you go about some routine task, notice where your thoughts are. Bring them back to you, to the task at hand, and discover what joy you may be missing.

A Dollop of Courage

"Courage comes from experiencing inborn fears." - Gregge Tiffen

I danced with a fear this week. It wasn’t a very graceful dance until the experience neared its completion and I was able to breathe in a breath of understanding and gratitude.

The dance began with an observation about Luke. He wasn’t his normal playful, snuggly, loving self for a few days and I began to ‘worry’ about what I should ‘do’ about this ‘problem’.

Over those few days I hovered over him as we went about our normal routines. I gave him some extra care and, along the way, began to think and worry that he was detaching. That’s when the fear kicked in with a force I could name: I was afraid of losing Luke.

I hurt deeply. The memory of another pet loss four years ago when Ellie, another precious dog that I cared for part-time, was hit by a car and killed showed up front and center. I trembled. I wept. I smothered a resistant Luke in love.

And, then I remembered.

I remembered that even dogs have days where they need their space and distance.

I remembered that consciousness has no idea of this thing we call death, even though the body’s journey is a finite one.

I remembered that all I experience in life benefits my learning – the learning that lives on in consciousness after the body is done.

I remembered that every experience of the deep and the dark holds the potential for light to follow.

That’s when I could smile, look back with a dab of understanding, and be grateful that, perhaps, I’d added a dollop of courage to my consciousness. Now, with loving, playful Luke curled up at my feet, I think that one dollop may be two.

Perhaps the fear was only at the surface and deeper reflection or another experience will reveal something more. That will come if and when I need it for my growth. Then I can call upon those dollops of courage to support me as I engage in the dance once more.

In the past I’ve been hesitant to call fear by its name. I needed to be ‘brave’. I avoided the dance. Now that I see fear as essential for developing courage, the tempo of the dance picks up and I’ll keep my dancing shoes nearby. Satisfied! And, Grateful!

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?

Patience

"The reward of patience is patience." - St. Augustine (born 354)

I had an opportunity to choose and practice patience this week. I’m glad I made the choice and, in hindsight, grateful for the opportunity. Along the way I discovered I don’t think of myself as especially patient, especially when traveling. And, of course, the opportunity to choose patience came in just that venue – a road trip to Denver, normally a three and a half to four hour drive away.

The first half of the trip was fairly normal, a bit more traffic than usual on this particular road, but it was flowing smoothly. No big trucks chugging up the mountain passes to slow me down.

Then, just beyond the half-way point, approaching a small town, we slowed to a crawl which soon thereafter became a stop, a short crawl, stop and all I could see ahead was a long line of cars, one big long parking lot.

I was curious. What’s ahead that’s causing this traffic jam - road construction or a wreck?  When it became obvious that we were going to be slowed for a long while and not arrive in time for a planned event, I set aside angst, frustration and disappointment, then texted a message to let the folks expecting us that we’d be late.

We opened the windows and while Luke either slept or sat patiently in the back seat, I saw rock formations and colors that, while beautiful traveling by at high speed, held even more beauty when I could simply gaze upon them.

The golden aspens were lovely and we joked that we could see the colors changing as we sat and from time to time slowly moved forward.

I watched people as well. Several made u-turns, heading back from where they’d come, none looked like they were having fun. While we donned cameras, others talked on their cell phones, again, not looking too happy. Of course, I can’t know where they were headed or what urgency they felt. I only know that I made a choice that brought me peace, not just there on the road, but for the meetings that lay ahead.

Two and a half hours and about 45 miles later, traffic began to flow at normal speed and we flowed with it. No signs of construction or a wreck, I’m guessing ‘the jam’ was simply folks who’d been up in the mountains for the peak of fall colors returning to the city. But I’m grateful for the lesson and the practice. Peace was the beautiful bloom of my patience.

Opportunity for the Week: Choose patience when something isn’t going your way.

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?

Life Changing Luke

"Consider the sweet, loving rapport we have with our pets. Steep yourself in that feeling for a moment. This is the feeling we should have for every tree, flower, and bird that passes into our life. This is the feeling that should navigate our dominion over Earth’s natural kingdom. This is the feeling that will develop in us a deeper awareness of the more subtle, energetic aspects of nature, our intimate partner in this physical experience. Nature’s promise awaits you. Take a walk, look around, listen, smell, taste. Appreciate." - Gregge Tiffen (from Life in the World Hereafter: The Journey Continues)

This quote is from a book that I’ve read several times. Last night as I was reading a booklet from the same author, I read it again. It was interesting, but, until this morning, didn’t have a particularly strong resonance.

Hey, I live in the woods and enjoy the blessings of a mountain landscape every day. I notice what birds and beasts are making their presence known (crow has been cawing throughout the day for several days and a pack of coyote woke me just after 4am as they howled, most likely in celebration of a meal). And, it’s no surprise to anyone who’s read a few of my posts, that my beloved canine Luke is my teacher every day.

I live to appreciate nature. I thrive on noticing her subtle changes. I’m every curious and in awe of the messages nature offers.

But this morning before the day’s first light, Luke (normally fast asleep at that hour) touched a place deep inside when he stood up on all fours and, with a look of concern in his eyes, wheezed as if breathing was difficult.

I moved over to where he was standing, gently rubbed his ears, and quietly asked “are you okay buddy?” He wheezed again and plopped down with his head in my lap, soulful eyes looking up at me. He didn’t seem his confident self, and I assured him (despite my own doubt in the moment) that “everything is fine.” After a few minutes of gently stroking his side, Luke’s breathing returned to normal and his eyes regained their confident, soulful look. He reached out with his left paw and returned a few strokes on my arm.

I can’t yet fully articulate the place in my heart that Luke touched this morning or what messages may yet be revealed. But, the deep appreciation, love, and the little tinge of fear in those precious minutes of reverence have me wonder what it will be like to deepen my connection with nature even more and to continue to learn from ‘Life Changing Luke’ as one of nature’s best teachers.

As for Luke, he says to tell you that he’s fine and that the wheezing was just another moment of being in tune with the Universe to create a teaching moment for mom.  And, he say's "if you haven't met me yet, come on over to Crestone and visit us at the Dragonfly House."

Reflection for the Week: As summer gives way to fall, give yourself the gift of paying attention to and feeling a reverence for nature. What gifts does nature give you in return?

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?