When the light changes

Just a little update to my post of yesterday when I got up at 6:00 instead of 5:30 and missed the time when the dark starts turning into light. In my neck of the woods, I can now fondly report (having gotten up at 5:30 this morning), that the darkest dark begins to give way to the first hints of midnight blue at 6:10.

Radical Acceptance

I don’t know what I expect. I set the alarm on the cell phone (well, Donny does). I finally lost the patience for the clock/radio/phone – now vintage I suppose – that sits by the bed. The phone part hasn’t worked for a long time so it’s been Henry’s play phone and the settings kept getting switched from a.m. to p.m and 5:30 to 9. So now the cell phone rings at 5:30 and, when I still don’t get up ‘till 6:00, I’m not sitting down until 6:30 and the darkest part of morning is already over. The sky lightens first to its deep midnight blue. I was getting my coffee when that change began to happen. By the time I was looking up from the floor during my stretching exercises it was turning a lighter blue and now is drifting to gray. I really like to start out in the darkest dark. Call me kooky, call me crazy, but that’s what I like.

In the midst of the Spring flooding of the rivers and the historic health care bill, I’m in the throws of accepting what I like and what I don’t. I wrote about this in The Given Self and people write back to me about how much they needed someone to encourage them to this acceptance. Maybe not so much the things they like, but the things they don’t. The things they feel. ALL of the ways that they feel.

The more people write, the more I have to work at this. My words, and their words, push me (in a good way) to keep going with my own radical acceptance. It’s got to do with a lot of things that are tougher than getting out of bed when the alarm goes off, so I don’t mean to make light of them. It’s just that there’s no explanation for some things…and that’s okay. That “being okay” seems to be the big hurdle to get over. At least for me, if I like something few do, or feel uncomfortable about things that others accept, I get hung up when I feel I have to have an explainable reason. My radical acceptance is about accepting that “I just do” and that there’s no right or wrong about that.

It’s been a long time in coming, but now that it is coming, it’s coming on strong…with the help of a few friends like Susannah Azzaro.

Got this from her yesterday and asked if I could share it. It is a rewrite (inspired by The Given Self) of a Marianne Williamson quote.

Marianne's Version:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles, Harper Collins, 1992. From Chapter 7, Section 3 (Pg. 190-191).

Susannah's Version:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are powerful beyond measure. Our deepest fear comes from our belief that the crazy goofy shit that comes up for us isn't part of our light. We ask ourselves, What if the feelings I'm having are wrong? Actually, who are you not to have whatever feelings do come up? You are a child of God. Your discounting of your Given Self does not serve the world. There is nothing more enlightened than sharing your funny, goofy, neurotic, radical self with the world. We are all meant to shine in this way, just as children do. The problem is that we discount our feelings, impressions, and experiences if they don't fit in with what we perceive to be the status quo. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us -- and the glory of God can be pretty messy and painful and hilarious sometimes. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own messy, painful, and hilarious light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Doing what it takes

If you’re not willing to “do what it takes” are you stupid, lazy, or do you have integrity?

I spent most of the past week finding out. Or making travel arrangements. I’m still not sure which.

Early in the week, I carted two sections of newspaper back to my sunroom office with me. They both had inspired some writing ideas. They were good ones too. One came of an article on the Dead Sea Scrolls, and the other (which I’ll probably still get to) from an editorial on “Mass market mysticism.” But I didn’t get to them.

I also abandoned a little excitement I was feeling for trying a bunch of do-it-yourself book projects like building my own website and e-publishing my own books. I even got a manual on that one. Its cover is bright yellow and its insides are bright white. I carried it in my purse for a few days. I underlined things I ought to be doing. I began to develop goals.

Maybe the travel plans derailed me for a reason. Or a bunch of reasons.

The travel arrangements had to do with giving talks on my books. One went smoothly. The other didn’t. They led to those “doing things my way” feelings that seem to come over me every time I consider doing things someone else’s way. My “standards.” Sort of like trying to write blogs that don’t have spelling errors. I’ve caught a few over these last six months, but not too many.

I can’t base the quality of my blogs on the same quality standards anybody else has…except for the baseline stuff like spelling. That’s kind of what I confronted with the travel…this feeling of…1) there’s a baseline, 2) just because something works for Joe or Jane doesn’t mean it’s going to work for me, and 3) whether or not anyone reads my blogs (or if few read my books) the standard is still there.

So let’s say I was basically looking at, in several different ways, this attitude that can get to you without you even realizing it…the instruction (as in a manual)…or the assumption (as from an organization) … of “this is the way things are done”, the kind of attitude that gets you wondering why, if “It worked for Jane and Joe,” or why, if “this is the way it’s done,” you still feel that it just won’t work for you.

What surprises me is how insidious it is and how it gets to me at first. “Oh yeah, yeah. You’re right. If “they” can do it, I can do it.” (You don’t even realize it’s the same sort of thinking that can get you into a "get rich quick" scheme even if it’s about something a lot more benevolent.)

In this case, it certainly wasn't anything shady. It wasn't anything about the people. The intentions were all good and they were even being generous. It was just me doing my usual wrestling with an issue that had become bigger than the particulars.

Me, seeing how I go along at first, until those other feelings come. It’s not just standards. It’s disposition. I’ve got this line in The Given Self where I say, “You have the right to feel as you feel.” It’s in there because I found I’d be asking myself: “Do I have the right to feel as I feel?” Do I have the right to have my own standards? Do I have the right to say… “I’m a private person. That won’t work for me.” Or… “This is the kind of room I need to give a seminar.” Or even to shake my head over an instruction manual and say, “That’s all well and good, but man, I’m just not interested.”

I’ve found that the thing is, you have to be willing to let go of the outcome if you’re going to say, “That won’t work for me.” If you’re not going to try something, it makes no sense to then get regretful that you could have, and maybe it would have worked. You’re going to have to find a way to be accepting of the head scratching that ensues when it is discovered that you’re not Joe or Jane…your own head scratching…and that of other people.

These are the kinds of things that took up my week. Not plane reservations, but feeling those feelings that told me, “This won’t work for me,” and then having to do something with them. Accept them. Accept the outcome.

It’s a good thing to have to do it once in a while. It’s clarifying. And it’s liberating to find out that you can live with an outcome that wasn’t the one you might have been going for.

But the funny thing is that when you’re looking at whether or not you’re willing to do “what it takes,” you could be all three: stupid, lazy, or acting with integrity.

In the end, the best solution, it seems to me, is to banish the idea of doing what it takes.

So that you don't feel alone

I’m crabby today for the same reason I was happy a day or two ago. I met with a new web designer. She asked me, as I called them at the time, some good questions. Questions like, “What is your goal?” Well, in that moment, (and the reason we were meeting) my goal was to replace my current web designer/host company with a new one. I couldn’t get updates made. I’d wrangled all along concerning updates on the site that’s up (for A Course of Love) and since December had been trying to get a new site up for The Given Self. Design and content were done, but no site ever went live. The launch of the book, a recent talk I gave, a Christmas column, a New Year column, and events coming up – all remained un-posted. I emailed, cajoled, and finally did something I’m not too keen on: I had it out with my designer by phone. But I felt good after. She apologized for the delays and promised that they wouldn’t happen again and that my new site would be up within the week. That was over a month ago.

So you figure you have to do something. If you don’t make a move it becomes one of those “shame on you” situations…a fooled me once/fooled me twice kind of thing.

But the updates weren’t what made me crabby. It was the darn talk of a goal. I have no goal.

Then a friend called and he’d just reached a goal he’d set. He might not have called it a goal per se, but he’d intended to do something and had gotten it done. Man. Was I jealous.

I feel lately, as if all I do is spin my wheels.

I’ve got all these things that I’m…well…maybe headed toward is the best way to put it. I feel as if I need to switch to a print on demand company with my Course of Love books. It’s been a cash flow burden to have to pay for books before they’re sold and the cost is pretty high. It’s downright depressing to do your taxes and find out what you made and what it cost and have it come out nearly even. The idea of making the same or more and having the expenses be less by a third is always going to be appealing, but is especially appealing when you need the money and have wondered, more than once over the past year, if you can keep your books in print at all. So there’s that.

Then I want to digitalize the books. I tried. I didn’t succeed. I got a quote on it. I couldn’t afford it. I got a book on it. Haven’t been able to make my way through it yet.

There’s the website.

I get this feeling that I’m spinning my wheels because I’m not working smart. I do all this work and then it doesn’t get “live.” Or I do all this work and I can’t succeed at it for not being technological.

And then I’m asked about my goal.

If I had a goal originally, it was just to have my books be available. That seemed like my job, my mission, especially with the Course of Love books. If I’ve had a goal since The Given Self came out, it’s been to make it known that it’s available. I started this blog with that intent, and where’s it gotten me? Nowhere in terms of making the book known, but I’ve enjoyed doing it, and it didn’t cost me anything…so that, at least, is a wash.

I’ve got talks coming up. Are they my goal? Is that the life I want? What do I want? What is my goal?

Shit. I hate goals. I really do. They’re so concrete they make my head hurt.

Maybe that’s the reason I don’t work smart. Maybe it’s the reason I’m the kind of writer I am. I write because I’m compelled to write. I’m compelled to write by something I don’t understand, or need to, until I’m hit with the “goal” word.

It’s kind of like my son said to me when I was companioning my dad as he was dying. I told Ian, “I know when I’m with Dad, he doesn’t feel alone.”

He said, “Is it that he doesn’t feel alone, or that you don’t feel alone?”

I imagine that I write because I don’t want others to feel alone – others like me who might feel as if they’re alone with their feelings or their troubles or their ideas. But maybe I write so that I don’t feel alone.

Maybe that’s the only goal there is.

Maybe it’s just one of those days after one of those months, after one of those months, after one of those years, when it all gets to you. Know what I mean?