Author: Gary

Gratitude as Spiritual Practice

Here’s a wonderful article about practicing gratitude from uuworld.org.

This morning I went to the uuworld site looking for another article, previously read, and, as usually happens when web surfing, found something unexpected and interesting. In this case, compelling.

Gratitude is core to my concept of living a meaningful life. While I would say I am inherently grateful, I want my gratitude to be an intentional, disciplined, and regular spiritual practice, so that it’s never far from my consciousness.

Writing this blog is one way to be intentional, disciplined, and regular — and you can see how regular I’ve been! As the uuworld article states so well:

Perhaps most insidious to our sense of gratitude is the great demon, busyness. There are times when we simply get too busy to notice all the wonderful things and people and relationships around us. Because it is so easy to get revved up to such a pitch that we neglect to notice our gratitude, it is best to find ways to make gratitude a routine.

raindrops on maple, loriEach day offers the gift to begin anew, so on this quiet and rainy Saturday morning, the coolness of the air hinting fall, I am pausing to intentionally practice gratitude.

I am grateful for the life of Senator Edward M. Kennedy. Only since his diagnosis with brain cancer and recent death, have I had the opportunity to see beyond the tag of liberal icon and understand and appreciate the impact of his life. More significant than his legislative achievements, I’ve been moved by the stories of his caring. That a man with such an overwhelming schedule would always take the time to personally reach out and show care and compassion is a model of humanity we should all aspire to.

I am grateful for a road trip with my son earlier this month. We had fun and deepened our relationship, the concentrated time together letting me see the young adult he is becoming.

I am grateful for my mother, who was such a wonderful friend and influence in my life. Three years ago, on August 27, she passed away.

I am grateful for this quiet morning, affording time for contemplation. Cool enough for the windows to be open, the sound of the rain falling on the leaves and flowing through the gutter is calming.

Life is good.

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Seeing eternity

Hilton Head
An afternoon walk along the beach: warm waves lap over my feet, wind tugs at my hat, water extends to the horizon, the surf’s incessant rhythm drowns out the cries of the gulls overhead.

For eons past and for eons to come, the sea will wash upon this beach or the one that replaces it. My footprints in the hard sand last only moments, a metaphor for the transience of life.

Walking along the beach, I know why people fall in love with the ocean. It’s hypnotic. I can see and feel eternity.

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Wish come true

A wish come trueIt seemed routine, just another event in a child’s over-committed schedule. Yet Andrea’s gymnastics meet this morning was hardly that, despite the appearance.

Today marks six weeks and six days since surgery to remove a brain tumor.

Andrea’s surgeon stipulated that she couldn’t return to gymnastics for six weeks following the surgery — which gave her just two practices to prepare for this meet. And she was in good form, considering the limited time to refresh those muscle memories.

Andrea was thrilled to be able to keep a commitment she had made to her team before the surgery, a goal that no doubt helped propel her recovery.

Once again, life has blessed us with an incredible gift, one easily overlooked by the appearance of normalcy. The tumor or the surgery to remove it could certainly have impaired her abilities. Why or why not, we’ll never know. In the words of Gertrude Stein,

“There ain’t no answer. There ain’t going to be any answer. There never has been an answer. That’s the answer.”

All that’s left is to be grateful.

We add to the list deep appreciation to Dick Widhu for his drawings of the young gymnast, which he did for Andrea when he heard of her pending surgery.

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Simple Gifts

Sun bathing puppyThose mornings when the sun is out, our Miniature Schnauzer positions herself on a chair in the dining room and sun bathes. She sits quite still, happy and content.

Seeing her meditative pose this morning reminded me of the simple gifts we experience every day. Just a moment of presence can enable us to remember our blessings: the warmth of the sun, a sip of coffee, a deep and conscious breath, a smile, a hug, remembering someone dear to us, a melody, quiet.

May your day be filled with these precious moments.

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Just another historic day

Tuesday was a busy day for me. Up early, I drove into Boston to catch a flight to Dallas. Traffic was heavy the first day after the Martin Luther King holiday, and I wondered if I would miss my flight. Thanks to a sparse line going through security, I arrived at the gate with some time to spare. We were airborne shortly after 9:00 am, landed around 11:30 am Central (12:30 pm Eastern), and the rest of my day was filled with business.

When I left Boston, George Bush was President of the United States. When I landed in Dallas, Barack Obama was — the first African American President.

That we have transcended the color of a person’s skin is truly remarkable, a milestone in human dignity to be celebrated. That the transfer of power was routine, number 43 to number 44, reflects the stability of our system of government and calls for deep gratitude. That I live in a country where such a historic occasion can be just another day gives me hope for the world.

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Snow

In this 24 x 7 world, there are still a few events that can interrupt the hectic pace of life, and do so in a nice way.

shoveling.JPGThe latest winter storm moved through New England last night and this morning. The flakes started falling well after dark, sometime after 9 pm, and continued through most of this morning. We awoke to six or so inches on the ground and a steady snowfall, causing us to rethink our plans for the day. The morning service at church was cancelled, I deferred my trip to Peterborough, and Lori called off her drive to Manchester.

By this afternoon the sun will be out, the driveways and walkways shoveled, the streets and highways plowed. The unrelenting pace of life will resume.

This morning, though, for a few hours, we enjoyed a pause, unexpected and unplanned time for reflecting (and a blog post), dawdling over the paper, and catching up on a few untended items around the house.

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It’s a brand new year

Gretchen Rubin is writing a book about happiness, aptly named The Happiness Project. Her blog chronicles her experience and thinking as she writes the book.

Happiness is a fascinating subject, zen-like in its paradox. To wit, happiness is not something that can be sought and obtained directly, rather it’s a byproduct of a fulfilling life.

From my life’s experience, happiness is enabled by living in alignment with my core being. And that requires discerning who I am and what I aspire to be, my essence. Hold that thought.

This being the first day of a new year, it’s tradition to establish a list of resolutions, those new and good habits that we want to adopt to improve our lives. It’s also tradition that we take on too many self-improvement goals, whose half lives are often much less than 30 days. Magazines, book stores, the web are full of self-help strategies for how to make the changes stick — truly, I mean really, this year will be different.

My point is not to denigrate New Year’s resolutions. I believe in self improvement and the power of possibility and transformation. I would much rather try and fail than to live in cynical inertia. However I can’t resist poking a bit of fun at the whole self-help phenomenon in our culture.

In contrast to New Year’s resolutions (either instead of or in addition to), Gretchen Rubin suggests in her blog that we write a list of personal commandments, or values, to guide our lives. This ties back to the point of living in alignment with our core being. The process of writing a list of values is a great way to discern who we are, connecting with what various authors have described as the small voice inside or our heart of hearts.

Aspiring to live according to core values makes a great New Year’s resolution and, in my experience, helps enable happiness. Here’s my list, along with a photo from my summer’s travels. It’s an apt metaphor for my hopes for life in the year to come.

My Guiding Values

  • Be authentic
  • Act humbly
  • Show kindness, compassion, respect
  • See the big picture
  • Live purposefully
  • Do what’s right
  • Make a positive difference
  • Be ever grateful
 Hiking the high Sierra
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Good night 2008

Another year comes to a close, number 55 in the chronology of my life. 2008 has been good, however that’s not to say it has been without sadness, nor a presage for challenges on the horizon. The year has been good because life is a gift.

I appreciate this much more after the past three years, when I have personally experienced that decades of seeming stability can end at any moment. Death or serious illness or any number of life-changing events intrude, creating raw edges and the visceral knowledge that the continuity of life is unstable and will be punctuated by loss.

My mother would have celebrated her 89th birthday today, were she still alive. She made it to 86. Except for her last three months, she lived as she wanted: independent and fully engaged with life. I miss her, our daily e-mail chatter back and forth across the country and my occasional drop-in visits when I was traveling to the west coast. I am so grateful that she and I had her last summer to share, for both of us to prepare for her pending death. While challenging, that time was sacred and a wonderful gift.

The life lesson I am learning with each year’s passing is to savor each day, to recognize that it might be the last. This thought is beautifully expressed in the poem Otherwise, written by Jane Kenyon.

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

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Christmas reflections

flameChristmas is such a conflicting mix of emotions for me. The essence of the season is light and love and giving. However, the spirit is too easily trampled in a frantic rush of felt obligations and blatant consumerism.

This year mimicked the mistaken perception I had as a small child, that Christmas occurred the day after Thanksgiving. Travel, an ice storm, work, other non-holiday commitments, and my overall preoccupation and distraction with the world compressed the past few weeks until I found Christmas upon me. Already. My holiday checklist, ill-formed and floating in my mind, largely unchecked. Emotionally disconnected.

As always, though, there are moments of grace where I am touched by the spirit of the season, moments that reconnect me to the transcendent mystery of life.

The music of my daughter’s high school choral concert last week immersed me in traditional and new expressions of the season. Listening, I was able to just be, rather than thinking and doing. It may have been the best meditation I have ever experienced.

Last night, we attended the Christmas Eve candlelight service at our church. Each person passing the flame while singing Dona Nobis Pacem and Silent Night never fails to stream tears down my face.

Before this ever-emotional finale, two congregants shared personal reflections and insight.

One woman spoke of first-time experiences that bring such enjoyment they become traditions. Paradoxically, with time the traditions become rote, “check the box” tasks and lose their meaning and ability to create joy. Rather than serving us, we serve them and for no reason. She admonished us not to fall into the numbness of such repetition and obligation, rather to be mindful and discern the blessings in whatever happens.

The second woman told of dissolving into tears as her list of obligations mounted and seemed to overwhelm all available time. She recounted the outburst that she vented to her husband: “I have to drive to the mall through the horrible traffic to buy presents, then I have to stop by the store to buy the groceries I need for Christmas dinner, then I have to come home and clean the house, then I have to start cooking,” and on it went.

Her outlook changed dramatically when, for some reason, she replaced have with get. The tasks on her list were privileges, made possible because of her good fortune. She was healthy, with a car, with enough money to buy groceries and presents. She knew not all were able to do what she could do, not all had a loving family with whom to share the holiday.

Usually by the time Christmas arrives, I am ready for it to pass and look forward to the normal days after. This year, though, since I feel I missed much of the buildup, I want the season to linger. Perhaps in the spirit of the 12 days of Christmas or the 8 days of Hanukkah, I can hold on to the underlying essence of the season and carry the light and love and giving into the new year. No doubt the world needs it, I need it, and my blessings are plentiful.

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