Tag: Personal Growth

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Guest Post: Practicing “The Sabbath”

By Lee Ngo

Ever since January 2016, I practice “The Sabbath.”

My work is great. It’s flexible, applicable, and thoroughly engaging for my personality type (in case you’re wondering, I’m an ENFP. Also, a Cancer.).

However, I have to switch work off eventually, even when it’s fun.

A while back, a good friend of mine and educational community-building colleague Julie Williams of Everyday Integrity (our feet leisurely pictured above) taught me about her practice of “the sabbath”  during one of our breakout sessions at the 4.0 Schools Community Summit in January 2016. It changed my life.

Traditionally a religious practice re-conceptualized to be about personal wellness and fulfillment.

We did an exercise where I listed all the things I do, and then I listed all the things I really want to do. Here’s what I wrote for the latter:

  • Be with my wife (laugh, love, embrace, etc.)
  • Eat somewhere I haven’t tried before
  • Draw something
  • Learn something new
  • Spend more time with family and friends

For the second list, she decreed, “take a day to do just those things and nothing else. See what happens.”

The results were instantaneous. My attitude heading back into work improved. I felt a closer relationship with my wife, who perhaps works even harder than I do as an academic. I stopped feeling guilty about being happy and in the moment.

The amazing part — when I went back to work, everything was fine. Nobody got hurt because they had to wait until Monday for a response. The world kept spinning since, to my surprise, it didn’t revolve around me.

For this post, I’d like to go into more detail about my philosophy, my practice, and some of my struggles.

Philosophy — Why do I do this?

The Old Testament features multiple mentions of The Sabbath, but most people quote what Moses overheard and paraphrased after coming down from an epic conversation with God on Mount Sinai:

“Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.” (Exodus 20:8)

I’m not interested in getting into the debates over how God wants to us to interpret that line — that feels counter-intuitive. Instead, I’ve been trained and heavily influenced by sociology, so I look at The Sabbath in purely structural functionalist terms.

We need a day out of the week to not do things that stress us out. That includes anything resembling work, even if you’re passionate about it.

That, to me, is the function of The Sabbath — a day of release, mindfulness, exhaust, cleansing — a treat to yourself and vicariously to the world around you.

So remember it, and treat it like it’s a gift from a higher power.

Practice — How do I do it?

Choose a day out of the week when you consistently don’t work. For me, it’s either a Saturday or a Sunday. For others, depending on their schedules, it could be any day of the week, as long as it’s one day.

During this day, do the things you really want to do and/or have wanted to do for quite some time but feel held back for some reason.

Things that don’t qualify for The Sabbath
  • Anything directly related to work. Responding to an email, finishing that one report, prepping for an easier Monday are all examples of over-extending yourself for the sake of feeling fulfilled.
  • Anything indirectly related to work. Corporate training, meeting with friends from work who talk about it constantly, even volunteering with organizations that are associated with work. No matter what you do, there will be this underlying compulsion to gravitate towards what you actually need to avoid.
  • Chores. The word alone invokes stress. Some people find therapy in doing choices, and some are just necessary when you get the window to do so. The same logic applies, and I ask that you find a way to let go.
  • Long-term priorities. Taxes. Doctor appointments. Trips to the DMV. Cleaning out the rain gutters. These are all things you can do on the “other” day you have free. Put them off for just one day.
Things that might qualify for The Sabbath
  • Going on a trip to a place unknown. Don’t let the news fool you — the world is a beautiful place, and it’s worthy of exploration. I try to plan an international trip every year — I work hard just for that opportunity.
  • Visiting that restaurant you always wanted to try. Even if the experience ends up being sub-par, I’ve never met a person who regretted the exploration. There are many who share their passion through food — indulge them.
  • Sleep. Don’t overdo it, but wow, sleep is awesome and important for resting your mind. Try shutting off the alarm clock on The Sabbath and optimizing your sleep environment for comfort and sensory deprivation. See what time you really need to wake up.
  • Making love. Usually requires at least one other person, but hey, no judgment here. This could be sexual, but sometimes just a long cuddle session with a platonic friend does wonders for your self-esteem. Or do this exercise.
  • Exercise. I don’t particularly enjoy exercise because I frame it as the high-impact, steroid-raging versions you see in the media. Exercise could be a long walk, a hike up a hill, some light yoga, etc. The important thing is to force your brain to focus on other areas and give the nerves a break.
  • Picking up a hobby. This Medium blog is my hobby. It started on The Sabbath, and it’s transformed into my 1–2 hours per day of pure, unbridled, mindful self-expression. I haven’t drawn consistently in years, and now I can say that I have in 2017. That makes me feel awesome.
  • Watching a movie — in a theater. We tend to watch a lot of media while distracted by other gadgets — phones, tablets, and laptops in particular. Go somewhere where you’re forced to be completely immersed.

There are plenty of other possibilities. Offer yours below in the comments!

Struggles — What’s still holding me back?

I do want to acknowledge that it’s not so simple to adjust 1/7th of your life in such a way, and that there are internal and external factors holding everyone back, including myself.

Costs. Leisure time is privileged time, and there are many of us who have to work every day just to stay afloat.

I’m able to do a lot of these things now that my wife and I have steady incomes, but two years ago our breaks consisted of staying in, watching TV, and eating Top Ramen.

That was long before we re-conceptualized our behavior for the better.

Addiction. As I’ve mentioned before, this prompt was in response to my addiction to work, which started to contribute to some serious health problems, even requiring surgery at times.

Since making those adjustments, I’ve learned to switch off, enjoy the moment, and appreciate the things that matter the most.

The short version: work is ephemeral. Friends and family last longer, and they do more for your survival than you realize.

Fear. I remain fearful or anxious about some things that inhibit my practicing a true Sabbath.

Maybe I want to ice skate or try roller skating again, but after my last attempt, I’m terrified of the possibility. I could go bungee jumping or skydiving, but I have a perfectly rational acrophobia.

Some other fears are financial. Shouldn’t I save for a rainy day, especially in Seattle where there are so many of them?

I know what it’s like to live on the edge of poverty, even applying for Medicaid at one point. How can I rationalize a day of enjoyment when confronted with real struggles?

Practicing The Sabbath is not easy, but nothing worth the trouble ever is.

I’ve been making small but deliberate changes to the way I live my life because, frankly, I’m always interested in hacking it for the better.

On the Virtue of the Weekend

Now, I’m not sure if I’m getting older, wiser, or both, but I’m pretty adamant about keeping my weekends to myself.

I’ll occasionally pick up a side project that’s creative or socially-conscious, applying my unique set of skills. Other than that, I’m out having fun with friends and family.

I know I’ve written a lot on The Sabbath here and here, much inspired by my friend and colleague Jules (who launched The Sabbath Course, a 7-week program designed to help you rest and realize a sense of everyday integrity). Yet I still return to this issue because I still feel overworked.

In truth, I could blame the multitude of stress variables in my world, but that would be incorrect.

I am making the active choice to be busy and even bite off more than I can chew, and I’m starting to see things suffer as a result.

Even as I write this post, (and yes, I wrote this post on The Sabbath) I do so with the assertion that it is actually what I want to do today rather than what I’m obligated to do. There needs to be a designated time for that, and hence — the weekend.

This guest post is a compilation of three previous posts by Lee on Medium.

Lee Ngo is a global community builder using his extroversion for good as a champion of education, tech and startups based in Seattle, Wash. Lee spends his weekdays doing operational strategy to support a mission and programs that engage young people in historically underrepresented communities with careers in technology, leadership, and entrepreneurship. He uses his creativity to relax by writing and illustrating his blog on Medium. You can find him on Twitter and on Instagram.

Previous to his current role as Chief Operating Officer at The Greater Foundation, Lee has built passionate communities on- and off-line, for instance as host and facilitator of Demystifying Data Science, a 12-hour online conference that had over 10,000 signups and 3,000 live viewers from over 100 countries, as a MeetUp founder with an aggregate membership reach of over 15,000 and as lead organizer, as well as facilitator, for too many Startup Weekends to count.

Lee completed his Bachelor’s of Arts in Sociology at Yale University in 2005 and then received his Master’s of Arts Degree in Cultural Anthropology at the University of California, Irvine in 2008, during which he spent two summers in Vietnam to further study in the language and conduct fieldwork on the film industry.

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My Spiritual Path: Part 1 | Discovering Wholeness

discovering wholeness

What was my path to get here—to a place of wholeness—today?

What a loaded question, right?

Beautifully so, I’d say.

A co-facilitator and I posed this question at the opening of our intergenerational, interfaith women’s group when we were facilitating a session about “Spirituality and You” last fall.

We meant to stir up a conversation of breadth and depth. And the answers about paths to get here ranged from the commute to the pub to one’s religious upbringing.

I went with the easy out, a brief summary about how my bandwidth had shifted in the previous few months allowing the opportunity to step up and lead the session. In truth, I wasn’t sure how long it would take to truly answer that question.

Definitely not a minute. Perhaps I can sum it up in five blog posts?

In this blog series, “Discovering Wholeness,” I’ll attempt to distill 15 years of searching, growing, becoming into five posts, including this one, about my spiritual path to get here today.

What was my spiritual path to get here today?

Here:

  • Where I deeply know my inherent dignity and worth.
  • Where I forgive and embrace my imperfections.
  • Where I eagerly spend time with myself and with what (not who) I know as God.
  • Where I also deeply know it’s not about me.
  • Where my purpose is first and foremost our purpose: to live in harmony with nature.
  • Where living each day to the fullest means being as true as possible, not doing as much as possible.
  • Where I bring loving attention to everything I do.
  • Where I can’t imagine going another day not living this way.

Do I have it all figured out? Oh heck no. Far from it.

Turning Inside Out

But I have it figured out. I have peeled back every layer of the onion until I got to the kernel of my core where my deepest fears and deepest desires reside. And I stayed there, getting to know them.

I turned myself inside out as I had the sense I needed to do. And then I started anew.

Technically the same person—the same fears, the same desires, the same weaknesses, the same strengths. But, with a totally different relationship to the world.

A relationship grounded in the sense of a personal spirituality “cultivated, nourished, and harvested” along the way.

Most simply, spirituality refers to direct experience of the sacred, said Dr. Roger Walsh, a longtime practitioner and professor of philosophy, anthropology and psychiatry who wrote Essential Spirituality in 1999 about seven common practices of the world’s great spiritual traditions for recognizing the sacred and divine that exist both within and around us.

He describes spiritual practices as those that help us experience the sacred —that which is most central and essential to our lives — for ourselves.

Another scientist, and renown atheist, Dr. Carl Sagan said, “Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality. When we recognize our place in an immensity of light years and in the passage of ages, when we grasp the intricacy, beauty and subtlety of life, then that soaring feeling, that sense of elation and humility combined is surely spiritual.”

And as Michael Singer, author and devoted buddhist practitioner, says in The Untethered Soul:

“When you contemplate the nature of self [and soul], you are meditating…It is a return to the root of your being, the simple awareness of being aware…You woke up. That is spirituality. That is the nature of self. That is who you are.”

And so, personal spirituality, or “a religion of one’s own” as former monk Thomas Moore calls it, forms “the fundamental precepts by which we guide our life are cultivated, nourished, and harvested in time,” as poet Wendell Berry says.

Understanding, Accepting, Releasing

A year ago there was a series of events starting around the Spring Equinox, including a fateful retreat, moving to a new cottage home, and a blessing hosted by my spiritual communities around Beltane (a mid-spring celebration of abundance on May 1).

It was the beginning of the end. In the very best way possible.

I sensed that my journey over a decade plus years of active searching, growing, becoming was coming to a close.

Perhaps it culminated due to the position of Jupiter in transit?

As my astrologer friend tells me, that’s a rare element on a chart that represents a process of rebirth within one’s lifetime.

Perhaps the journey was part of my soul’s mission in order to get to the life’s work I’m really here to do?

For me, the path to get here today is a braid of spiritual, entrepreneurial and personal experiences. Intertwined, not separate.

The details and results of the experiences are extensive and unique to me. Tales for the next posts in this series.

While I do believe many lessons must be learned alongside others — partners, children, communities, students, teachers — ultimately our learning journeys are our own.

From our intuition and wisdom to deeper places within.

Perhaps that’s why sometimes it takes us many times to finally grasp a certain lesson?

Even as others provide sound guidance. Even as our inner teacher provides sound guidance.

Until it’s heard, understood, accepted and released, it remains unlearned. At least that’s been my experience.

Universal Lessons, Unique Path

The practices and tools I’ve discovered and absorbed into my “spiritual portfolio” as I like to call it are also extensive, so I’ll also save specifics on those for later posts.

But the process—the process of using these practices and tools throughout all these learning journeys along my spiritual path—isn’t that unique to me?

Me and the other millions of seekers and students and teachers in the world?

Well, I’ll leave that as a rhetorical question.

So, here’s the story of my journey to get here. Here’s my story of my journey. Which may or may not be the truth.

It’s the truth as I sense it, now, in my head, my heart and my gut, based on the information I currently have.

This is the first in a five-part series about my spiritual path and how I came to live from a place of wholeness into a space of sufficiency. Raised with New Age roots and inspired by world religions and native cultures alike, I have built a portfolio of interfaith spiritual practices that sustain me. I currently worship in nature and at a Unitarian Universalist church, find fellowship with the Sacred Fire Community and Bras, Bibles & Brews, and have active personal practices including Sabbath, yoga, prayer and seasonal retreats.

[To be continued]

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The Shape of The Soul

shape of the soul

All of my learning journeys, growing in and growing out, carry me along my spiritual path.

Along this path, I have studied many traditions, practices and rituals to help me discern what aligns with my personal spirituality, my current understanding of the universe and my presence in it.

So far this has been a never-ending process of continual growth and ceaseless seeking. At least in this lifetime.

There is one constant everybody seems to agree exists.

I have collected notes and quotes from countless others describing this thing we call the soul.

And, they seem to agree that just as the divine source, the something greater that many call God, is perfect, complete, and I’d add incomprehensible, so is a soul.

The soul is indescribable and when I try, I fall into paradoxes, truths that seem unable to coexist and yet they do:

  • it is not a thing and yet it is everything.
  • it is without self, feelings, personality and yet uniquely me.
  • it makes me weep while filling me with love.

My soul connects me to the universe, to everything, to all beings, to life — this deep community.

While I’ve only sensed that mystical connection of “touching my soul,” once or twice, the truths I received have remained.

My soul is, and thus requires no growth. My soul is always with me, thus requires no seeking.

“As time goes on, we are subject to powers of deformation, from within us as well as without, that twist us into shapes alien to the shape of the soul,” wrote Parker Palmer in A Hidden Wholeness. (italics in quote added for emphasis)

“But the soul never loses its original form and never stops calling us back to our birthright integrity…we are invited to conform our lives to the shape of our own souls.”

Growing in and growing out helps reveal the shape of our own soul.

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Growing In and Growing Out, Not Up

growing in, growing out

When you hear someone say, “that person needs to grow up,” it doesn’t usually sound like a compliment or even an objective observation.

No, it sounds like a judgement.

They are not mature.

They have not grown up.

They are not a so-called grown up.

Growing up is the term we use in American culture to describe the process of maturing.

This is typically coupled with the aging process. One gets older year by year, and theoretically wiser.

There are so many examples and metaphors of how we equate up with better.

And better with superior.

It creates a sense of better than/less than.

But, if life is a process of maturing, then when is one ever grown up?

Don’t Grow Up

In some aboriginal cultures, one does not age just because there’s been a full rotation of the sun from their birth date.

One ages and celebrates a birthday party of sorts as a rite of passage or once they feel they’ve developed as a person or increased their mastery. Often specifically related to their vocation and role in the tribe.

This sounds more like how Buddhist’s ascend levels of enlightenment over the course of many lives. The ultimate level, where they have finished maturing, is liberation from the cycle of rebirth and death, what we commonly refer to as nirvana.

How do they grow up, er, ascend?

By following the Noble Eight-fold Path each lifetime.

How do they follow the path?

My guess: by growing in and growing out, not by growing up.

Growing In

Growing in, we come into integrity with ourselves.

We gain knowledge and wisdom about who we are, who we have been and who we will become.

In Essential Spirituality, Dr. Roger Walsh describes the three parts of knowing oneself.

I imagine it as concentric circles:

  • The center circle, what’s deep within us, is our truest “self,” our soul.
  • The next circle is our inner self where our secrets, hopes and fears lie, as well as our beliefs and self-image.
  • The outside circle is our outer self, our surface emotions, habits and personality.

Through discernment, the process of obtaining spiritual direction and understanding, we regain a sense of knowing.

In seeking answers or clarity, we often look within through meditation and prayer. And we look without through discussion and study.

According to Walsh, we seek wisdom:

  • in nature
  • in silence and solitude
  • from the wise
  • in ourselves
  • from reflecting on the nature of life and of death

Discernment reminds me of research and experimentation. Testing a hypothesis, a current idea, to grow new understanding.

My discernment has presented itself in this way: as a learning journey, similar to the “personal legend” in Paulo Cohelo’s fable, The Alchemist, toward the next thing I need to learn about being.

Each journey may last a few months or a few years, yet has a cycle beginning and ending at the next learning journey.

Sometimes it directly relates to big life decisions, but often it’s the daily choices related to being in the world as it actually is.

As former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt said, we decide “to accept the fact that [a person] must be what they are, life must be lived as it is and you cannot live at all if you do not learn to adapt yourself to your life as it happens to be.”

The end of Mary Oliver’s poem “To Begin With, the Sweet Grass” speaks to these journeys of growing in:

I have become older and, cherishing what I have learned, I have become younger.

And what do I risk to tell you this, which is all I know? Love yourself.  Then forget it.  Then, love the world.

Growing Out

Growing out, we come into integrity with the world.

As Oliver says, we love the world.

“I want to see myself at once at the center of the universe—influencing its course with every word, thought, and deed—and at the same time a minute instrument of the cosmos acting in harmony with others,” wrote Robert Greenleaf in his essay about “The Requirements of Responsibility.”

We can exist in this cohesive state of opposites that Robert Greenleaf describes.

Often, my learning journeys have required some amount of both growing in and growing out at the same time.

And yet, there seem to be cycles to growth that do require one lesson before another.

Or some self-awareness prior to participating in a greater collective state.

For instance, many believe in astrological periods of a Saturn Return, the ~28 years for Saturn to complete its orbit around the Sun coinciding with the time of our birth, relating to cycles of learning journeys.

Some native cultures believe that the first seven years of the cycle are about mother, the next seven about father, the next seven about self, the next seven about community.

Just as growing in connects closely to self, growing out connects closely to community.

We discern, we test and learn, how to love the world through the way we live our life and our choices, as well as the way we show up in it, the energy we are bringing forth through these choices and actions.

Only recently have my learning journeys shifted from having a deep focus on growing in toward an emerging focus on growing out.

With fewer experiences and far less study, I know less about this process.

I sense that just as growing in is more introverted and reflective, growing out is more outgoing and active.

As such, we can seek wisdom:

  • in nature through interacting, not observing
  • in exchange and engagement
  • from the wise
  • from fully living with others

We love the world through our full presence and through engagement in deep community, “a special sense of community that embraces not only every other human but other species and things, as well,” according to Thomas Moore in A Religion of One’s Own.

Photo Credit: Evan Cohan

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Guest Post: Listening to The Whole

listening to the whole

By Emily Light

While I was living in an ashram in Southern India, I spent much of my time sitting cross-legged: practicing pranayama, in meditation, listening to lectures on Indian Philosophy and to Swamiji’s talks, and eating meals.

When I wasn’t sitting I was practicing asana, hiking the mountains of upper Kodaikanal, or foraging for fruit, though the monkeys always seemed to get there before I did.

One day while coming down the mountain, I lowered my left foot to meet the earth and with no apparent misstep, twist, or torque, I felt an excruciating pain in my left knee.

I couldn’t bend it and was forced to hobble down the rest of the way with what felt like a pegleg.

I had to walk like that for days afterward.

Eventually the severity of the pain began to dissolve, but it never completely went away.

Living With Pain

When I returned to the states, I didn’t have health insurance, and when it became mandatory to get insurance, I had the catastrophic kind. Definitely not one with benefits to see a physical therapist.

I haven’t been able to hike with any amount of elevation gain because on the descent it was always trouble, and I’d be laid up not being able to walk properly for a couple of days or more.

Over the last few years, I’ve seen a handful of different types of practitioners: a chiropractor, a physical therapist, and an acupuncturist who specialized in sports medicine. I did all of my homework, trying this, trouble shooting that:

  • Was it my vastus medialis (one of the quadriceps muscles) not firing properly?
  • Was it weakness in my gluteus medius?
  • Tight tensor fascia latae?

At the end of an intense year, finally my physical therapist (whom I adore) recommended I get an MRI.

There I was a couple weeks later, laying as still as possible, getting my knee scanned.

If you’ve never gotten imaging like that, let me tell you, it’s really challenging to lay still, even for someone with a lot of mindfulness practice like myself!

When the results came back, everyone was surprised to see that I had fluid in my anterior tibia marrow. This can happen when there’s injury to the bone, but typically the body reabsorbs this fluid over the course of several months.

Why hadn’t mine?

Well, we weren’t sure.

The following months were spent doing lymph massage, elevation, castor oil and essential oils, with alternating hot and cold applications.

Every night, including almost every night while I was traveling and teaching in Thailand, I would spend a half hour or more with these therapies.

I also did fascia massages one to two times a day while my students were practicing savasana. Now you know what I was up to at the end of class!

After a couple of months, my knee had recovered.

I sat cross-legged for much of three days while I was in a yoga therapy training without pain.

While I need to condition my body to do big hikes, I’m now able to go down stairs and down hill without discomfort.

I’m over the moon!

Our Body Knows

The reason I’m writing isn’t to detail the history of my left knee, though I wanted you to know the significance of this injury in my life.

I’m writing because of something my physical therapist and I talked about, that helped me to shift my relationship with chronic injuries.

She told me that we all have our “spots” that flare up when there’s some sort of imbalance in the physical body, mentally or emotionally, and often these spots have been injured in the past.

But when they flare up, it doesn’t always equate with being re-injured.

It could be that when there’s emotional stress or upset, we’ll experience pain in that all too familiar area.

And what’s going on during these times is communication.

Our body is saying:

  • “Hey, there’s something important to pay attention to!”, or
  • “Something’s not quite right, it’s time to slow down and feel.”, or
  • “We’re doing all we can, but we got a cold, and sensation is more present right now.”

Rather than viewing the discomfort as an annoyance, we can learn to listen with appreciation for what our body’s trying to say to us.

I seem to learn this lesson over and over again.

Listening More

The inner voice that tells me to check in on a friend, only to learn that they’ve just gotten dumped.

That gut feeling to slow down as I’m approaching an intersection, right before a racing truck blows his stop sign, nearly hitting me.

The way that my heart feels when I just had a disagreement with my partner, which, I failed to navigate gracefully.

I know that my body and my heart are communicating with me all the time. And yours is as well.

I’m learning to listen more and more, and to allow myself to be guided by the wisdom that’s coursing throughout me.

The more I listen, the more clearly I can hear.

Emily Light is an active yogi and nutritionist in Portland, Ore., leading wellness retreats and workshops around the world and teaching classes at many local studios including Yoga Refuge, Yoga Bhoga and Yoga Space (that’s how Jules knows her). You can find her on Facebook and on Instagram.

Emily completed her first teacher training in 2008 and after a few years of teaching, was called to the motherland of yoga. It was there that she met one of her teachers, Swami Tureyananda. Emily spent a couple months immersed in deep practice, living at an ashram in Southern India, and studying yoga therapy with Swamiji. In May of 2015 she graduated from a two year yoga therapy training under Sarahjoy Marsh, completing her 500-hour certification through Yoga Alliance (E-RYT 500), and is certified through the International Association of Yoga Therapists (C-IAYT). Complementing her guidance in the art of yoga, Emily is a practicing Holistic Nutritionist, offering full spectrum support in finding a life of balance and harmony on all levels. She received her Bachelor’s of Science in Holistic Nutrition with a concentration in Herbal Medicine in 2006 and spent a growing season apprenticing with the herbalist, author and teacher, Matthew Wood.

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The Art of Being, Not Doing

art of being, not doing

When I look back on the year, my favorite days were usually the ones when I was doing nothing.

I was just being.

Not just as in “barely or by a little.”

The way it seems just gets used or referenced most of the time nowadays.

Just as in “simply, only, no more than.”

But for a long time, I thought this way of being was a luxury, something only accessible on vacation.

Actually before that, I forgot that this was my favorite way of being.

And before that I forgot this was a way of being at all.

Busy Beings

But how could this be? How could one forget that we are human be-ings?

Because nowadays we feel more like human do-ings.

In Overwhelmed, Brigid Shulte interviewed a researcher who studies Christmas Holiday cards who discovered, “My God, people are competing about being busy. It’s about showing status. That if you’re busy, you’re important. You’re leading a full and worthy life.”

We have slipped into the cult of busy. I know I did.

I spent the better part of my teens and 20s being an active member.

Too many commitments and expectations, I lived back-to-back and double-booked with a ton of worry and anxiety gluing it all together.

I thought I was “living life to the fullest.” I wasn’t.

My life wasn’t full, it was just compulsively busy.

Busy doing, not full of being.

Loved for Doing

“The difficulty of always feeling that you ought to be doing something is that you tend to undervalue the times when you’re apparently doing nothing, and those are very important times. It’s the equivalent of the dream time, in your daily life, times when things get sorted out and reshuffled. If you’re constantly awake work-wise you don’t allow that to happen,” said musician and producer Brian Eno within Scott McDowell’s essay in Manage Your Day-to-Day: Build Your Routine, Find Your Focus & Sharpen Your Creative Mind.

“Most of our current work and life structures have been devised to emphasize production and how much we can accomplish rather than the nurturing of the soul,” wrote Tami Lynn Kent in Wild Creative.

“Because of the general emphasis on production, achievement and building a career, we typically learn to create by becoming self-sufficient and actively doing whatever needs to be done.”

Our culture models and celebrates self-sufficiency, doing everything for ourselves instead of relying on help from others, which makes a lot more work or doing for us.

It’s a slippery slope to always doing as Brian Eno describes, and/or to over-doing.

Economist Juliet Schor argues that with the introduction of the clock in the thirteenth century and the rise of manufacturing time became money, as Schulte shared in Overwhelmed. 

Add productivity and competition to self-sufficiency and independence and you quickly get a value for achievement.

More, faster, better, best.

This state of achievement celebrates us for what we do, not who we are.

It’s a pretty easy detour to mis-interpret this as the recipe for worthiness and love:

“As long as we are working hard, using our gifts to serve others, experiencing joy in our work along with the toil, we are always in danger…” wrote Lynne Baab.

In danger of believing we are loved for what we do, not who we are.

Loved for Being

Baab said that only in stopping, really stopping, do we teach our hearts and souls that we are loved apart from what we do.

For me, as soon as I was paying attention to the rest of the world in high school, I picked up on this message: doing = love.

I longed for love. Always had.

And always had it. But, I didn’t realize that back then.

I just sensed that I was different and misunderstood. By others and by myself.

In looking for models of love in my life, I saw the celebration of achievement – on the news, at school, at home – and I took that to heart.

Along the way, I lost track of my favorite way of being: my true nature.

Reconnecting with my being and shedding layers of achievement accumulated over the decades has been transformative. Relearning that I am loved —always— and especially for who I am has been one of the biggest life lessons for me.

I believe we all still inherently know how to be. Just as we are all loved for being. But, we are often too distracted to notice or remember.

So, first we have to stop.

Easier said than done.

Being

“The popular assumption is that no skills are involved in enjoying free time, and that anybody can do it. Yet the evidence suggests the opposite: free time is more difficult to enjoy than work. Having leisure at one’s disposal does not improve the quality of life unless one knows how to use it effectively, and it is by no means something one learns automatically,” said Mihaly Csikszentmihali.

As one of the leading researchers of flow, or that ultimate state of being, he should know.

Point taken: just being can feel lonely, boring, and/or uncomfortable when infrequent because of too much doing.

Or when one does not first feel connected and loved for being.

In her research about overwork, Schulte also explored leisure which often creates flow when practiced frequently.

“In the purest sense, leisure is not being slothful, idle or frivolous. It is, in the words of leisure researcher Ben Hunnicutt, simply being open to the wonder and marvel of the present. ‘The miracle of now,’ he calls it, to choose to do something with no other aim than that it refreshes the soul, or to choose to do nothing at all. To just be and feel fully alive.

“…a time not just for play, recreation and connection with others but also for meditation, reflection, and deep thought…Throughout the course of history, in this leisure time away from toil, elite men…came up with some of the most brilliant innovations, enduring art, and soaring discoveries humanity has ever known,” wrote Schulte.

Oh, the irony: in not doing, we find our greatest achievements.

Once upon a time, a third of the year was dedicated to days off, eg: festivals, Saint’s days, milestones like births, deaths and marriages, Sabbath and other official rest days.

Further back in Roman times, almost half the year were public festivals—days of being, not doing.

This is what I find in my Sabbath time each week.

Time to put all the doing aside with lots of space for relating, dreaming, being.

And being inspired. Some of my most original ideas have been showing up on Sabbath even as I’m trying not to think or do.

Ways of Being

When I’m just being, life is full of:

  • Mindfulness
  • Intention
  • Attention
  • Clarity

I discard what’s distracting or disintegrating me from the world.

I reconnect with what matters most and with my true nature:

  • Being outside or at the beach.
  • Reading inspiring poems and books.
  • Napping and dreaming.
  • Sitting by the fire and telling stories.
  • Savoring beautiful works of art.

My true nature really likes being with myself. I get recharged in solitude. I also enjoy solitude in community. And groups of people I know well.

For others, it’s different. There are many ways to access our own being.

“Sabbath time offers the gift of deep balance; in Sabbath time, we are valued not for what we have done or accomplished, but simply because we have received the gentle blessing of being miraculously alive,” said Wayne Muller in Sabbath.

Being Today

As Baab reminds us in her book Sabbath Keeping, “what we choose to do on the Sabbath needs to bring us rest and life over time. The challenge is discernment, experimenting to find what works for us and the people we love, what helps us catch our breath and remember who we are.” (italics added for emphasis)

Remembering the Sabbath each week has been an important part of reconnecting with myself over the years.

As rich as those days are, they’re only a fraction of my year. The other days contain a lot of doing.

Schulte asked and I often wonder as well:

What, when you really come down to the quotidian details, does it look like every day to have time to do good work, to spend quality time with your family and friends and to refresh your soul?

To be in flow throughout life and not only one day a week, I imagine life needs to look differently. A lot less doing, I bet.

And also probably a different kind of doing: less effort and more energy.

More of the art of being—in our true nature, a state of integrity—everyday.

Join others from around the country in the next Sabbath Course as we explore and practice together, inspired by an interfaith, personal approach to this universal tradition. This 7-week course includes fun weekly activities, weekly community gatherings online and your own practice. You’ll experience what students describe as a “positive and significant impact on my personal growth and spiritual exploration.”

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What Matters Most

what matters most jules speaking to grandmother ocean

This was the moment when I really felt it: this.

“This is bliss.”

“This is what matters most.”

Why?

Because it was a combination of what’s important to me and how my soul glows.

These moments used to be fewer and farther in between. Accidental connections to my truest nature. I wanted more. 

Nowadays, I have found the words to define my personal guidelines for living a whole life. Living wholly and soulfully. Not accidental, but intentional.

That doesn’t mean life is perfect. Far from it. 

I am always practicing and I have a light to guide the way: my personal guidelines for the day-to-day and my inner guide for when things get really tricky.

Everyone has this light, though not everyone has the words.

How does one learn what matters most?

By preparing for the answers: keeping sacred space, knowing your inner guide and asking the big questions, and then, living into them.

Start with Perspective

In one of my favorite movies, About Time, the lead character can time travel.

He doesn’t need a machine like Bill & Ted. He can just close his eyes, focus on a moment, and go there.

The most powerful thing he discovers? He has do-overs.

He can go back and re-do every day, savoring the moments:

  • Acknowledging the clerk at the market with a smile.
  • Noticing the beautiful windows as he’s running to catch his train.
  • Greeting his crying, messy child after work.

Eventually, he stops time traveling and literally only lives in the present.

Feel free to stop reading and go stream it (it’s so good).

Then, you can come back to this post and learn about how to live this way. 

Why isn’t life only about what really matters?

According to the movie, life is only about these precious moments—what really matters—it’s just about our perspective on it.

Yes, and, you might be thinking.

There’s actually a lot in our lives that doesn’t matter. More so for some people than others.

How do we know what does and doesn’t matter?

“To discern what is truly essential we need space to think, time to look and listen, permission to play, wisdom to sleep, and the discipline to apply highly selective criteria to the choices we make. Ironically in [our] culture these things—space, listening, playing, sleeping and selecting—can be seen as trivial distractions,” wrote Greg McKweon in Essentialism about the disciplined pursuit of less.

How do we find space and time and permission and wisdom?

We practice.

Keeping Sacred Space

I find the best time for me to practice creating sacred space is when I’m backpacking, when I’m on retreat and when I observe Sabbath, my “weekly retreat.”

In his book, Sabbath, Muller writes, “Sabbath is an incubator for wisdom. When we allow the rush and pressure of our days to fall away, even for a short period of time, we are able to discern the essential truth of what lies before us.”

Poet Wendell Berry, who has a longstanding practice of Sabbath, wrote:

During the Buddhist Sabbath, lay people and monks gather to recite the precepts that govern their practice. There are hundreds of these precepts for monks, concerning everything from how you meditate to how you eat your food and how you wash your bowl.

But more than the specific precepts, it is a time to reiterate what is ultimately important, sacred. Whether the Eightfold Path of Buddhism, the Five Pillars of Islam, or the Ten Commandments, most religions consider certain precepts to be guiding lights to help us find our way through darker times.

Berry often writes poetry about what’s ultimately important, sacred, on the Sabbath. There is a sense of divine inspiration in his observations of the world and its interconnectedness.

“Sabbath is a time when we retreat from the illusion of our own indispensability. We are important in that we are part of something larger,” adds Muller.

Something larger that’s often hard to comprehend without some guidance.

Knowing Your Inner Guide

“Whether we choose spirituality or religion, we need a system of experiences and beliefs that is true to our own experience. We must once again look at our own lives and discover what we already know,” says Cecile Andrews, author of The Circle of Simplicity: The Return to the Good Life.

Anthropology Professor Roger Walsh wrote:

“We know more than we know we know. The inner source has been called by many names: for example, the Hindu’s “inner guru,” the Tibetan Buddhist’s “personal diety,” the Christian Quaker’s “still small voice within,” or the psychologist’s “higher self.” Whatever the name, the implications are the same. We have within us remarkable wisdom that will guide and help us if we learn how to recognize and draw on it.”

Just that simple.

Ultimately, yes, and…

From my experience the learning how to recognize [and listen] and draw on it, is a lifelong quest for the monks and us lay people alike.

Over the years, I’ve come to know and listen to this.

My inner guide is the filter for what is true to me, at any given time, on my path. 

As I’ve quieted and settled what Walsh describes as “the outer self” of surface emotions, habits and personality, and then “the inner self” of secret hopes and fears, self-image and beliefs, the listening grew easier, the voice grew louder and clearer.

This so-called voice lies within our “deep self,” or soul.

For some this conversation comes through deep, committed practices with meditation or yoga.

For me this conversation comes mainly through intentional practices of:

It is in these sacred spaces and times when I’ve become acquainted with my inner guide, my deep self, my still small voice within.

It’s always been there, I just hadn’t asked or hadn’t really listened before.

Asking the Big Questions

Listening starts with asking. The curiosity to receive whatever shows up.

Questions like:

  • What inspires me?
  • What is it like when I’m “in my element”?
  • What is love?
  • What do I believe?
  • What do I fear?
  • What’s always been important to me?
  • What connects me to Source?
  • When do I feel whole?

I’ve been amazed at how often it’s in the most minuscule moment of awe, perhaps examining a worm slithering through the soil, that my inner guide reveals my deepest knowing, the answers to these questions.

“Sabbath honors this quality of not knowing, an open receptivity of mind essential for allowing things to speak to us from where they are,” wrote Muller.

It is a lifelong conversation to recognize our own wisdom.

There is a difference between knowledge and wisdom.

In Essential Spirituality, Dr. Walsh said:

Knowledge informs us, wisdom transforms us.
Knowledge is something we have, wisdom is something we must become.
Knowledge is expressed in words, wisdom in our lives.
Knowledge empowers, wisdom empowers and enlightens.

Wisdom is our deepest knowing.

As such, often our most heartfelt questions are more of a feeling than a thought.

They don’t always formulate into neat, little sentences.

Because it’s not about figuring things out. That’s knowledge.

This is about feeling things out as our being connects the dots and then the answer emerges.

Wisdom.

The wisdom, courage, and clarity we need are already embedded in creation—in nature, in the world, in our lives. The solution is already alive in the problem. Thus, our work is not always to push and strive and struggle. Often we have only to be still, and we will know, wrote Muller.

The Tao Te Ching asks us:

Do you have the patience to wait
till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving
till the right action arises by itself?

In other words, until the right answer arises by itself?

Moments Matter Most

Once you start having the conversation, you can discern what is truly essential, what matters most, as McKweon describes.

You’ll know what is important to you and how your soul glows.

You’ll know what this feels like and you’ll be able to start putting the words together to define your personal guidelines for living a whole life.

Once you name it, you can live it even more intentionally. Remembering and practicing these fundamental precepts each week, they become your every day.

“When I am fully aware of clouds moving, birds trilling, insects buzzing and downy feathers floating on the still lake, I lean into the portal from this moment, beyond next week, and into the grand scale of things, weighing the collection of meaningful moments holding my life together,” wrote Shelly Miller.

This is living life to the fullest.

Join others from around the country in the next Sabbath Course as we explore and practice together, inspired by an interfaith, personal approach to this universal tradition. This 7-week course includes fun weekly activities, weekly community gatherings online and your own practice. You’ll experience what students describe as a “positive and significant impact on my personal growth and spiritual exploration.”

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We Are Whole Women

whole women

So many women friends have meekly confessed to me about feeling oppressed by anxiety and shortcomings. They do not feel whole.

Mind you, all of these women are strong. And accomplished.

And yet every day is a battle with themselves.

Hidden Struggles

Growing up, I idolized my Mom. As many of her friends did as well, apparently.

She was capable of doing anything and everything – all at once.

And, yet I didn’t understand her.

There were so many contradictions. And I wanted the world to be black and white.

This or that.

If I had known more about the gray reality of her life, perhaps I would have been able to accept her as she was, not only how I wanted her to be.

Apparently, she struggled with migraines nearly everyday while we were kids. As well as anxiety, worry and fear.

I didn’t see this pain. I saw the smiley faces on my hand-packed lunches and her frowny face when I didn’t do what I was told (which was most of the time).

I saw her seemingly opposing truths as flaws, instead of realities of being human.

Perhaps in her perfection-seeking aims, she saw them as flaws too.

Now, as a grown woman I see these contradictions in myself and in the women in my life:

  • of fragility and tenacity,
  • of shyness and initiative,
  • of joy and fear,
  • of generosity and scarcity,
  • of love and ambivalence,
  • of self-doubt and confidence,
  • of unworthiness and sacrifice,
  • of judgment and grace,
  • of wonder and control,
  • of candor and secrecy,
  • of protective and overbearing,
  • of real and larger-than-life.

I see now this is what it means to be a whole, living being.

And I see that my own experiences with anxiety, worry and fear stemmed from doubting my own wholeness.

Self-Creating Women

Here is what I know about the women in my life.

These women have created their own lives with a self-efficacy, or the ability to control and manage one’s behavior, only recently available in history.

For some that’s a business, for most it’s a career (or careers).

Many have paid off their own student loans and many have fronted the down payment for their own home.

For some it has been carrying, birthing and/or raising children.

For some it has been sustaining a healthy partnership.

Many have traveled alone, or lived alone, or moved alone, or grieved alone, or suffered alone. And woven these times of solitude into their being.

Coming back into community, family, relation with the world, again. And again.

And again.

Deep Doubt

And yet, they regularly doubt their choices and their instincts, spinning options in their minds and often coming to the conclusion: they haven’t gotten it right yet.

The life they have painstakingly created is still not right.

They are distracted and fragmented by anxiety and worry that they are not complete exactly as they are.

I look around at the women in my life and I see a list of accomplishments that could go to the moon and back.

To look at most of them you’d think: Dang, she’s made it.

And yet in conversations I hear the same thing again and again: self-doubt about one’s ability to cope with life.

And so, these women walk through their lives feeling the wind blow through their holes and wondering why doesn’t it blow them over?

Because, ladies, there are no holes. We are whole. We are done. We are here. 

Whole Women

Here is how I know the women in my life are whole: they get up every morning.

They get dressed.

They consider the day and know it holds too much. And they still attempt it anyways.

They start over a bazillion times a day.

Their default is how to make things better.

They wish they talked to their girlfriends more.

They wish they thought about everything less.

They praise about ten times as much in their hearts as comes out of their mouths.

They question if they can ever be as ______________ as someone they admire, yet simply by being aware they have their answer already .

They don’t think they really know grace, compassion, lovingkindness, just like they forget they are breathing.

They start over a bazillion times a day.

They make the best choices they can with the information they have.

There is always more to do and rarely a sense of enough.

They dream for generations, not only for themselves.

They see the best in others, unless their intuition tells them there’s danger.

They take care of others’ needs about ten times as much as they remember to take care of their own.

And then they go to bed. And do it all again the next day.

That is what the women I know do.

Being Whole, Being Alive

That is also what the men I know do. That is what humans do. That is what living beings do.

But especially women.

Today.

In the 21st century.

In their deep doubt. Yet resounding faith in life.

Do.

That is what I know about the women in my life.

Accepting Wholeness

So what can we do to live more wholly and soulfully?

So much.

Meditate. Reflect. Breathe. Exercise. Express. Laugh. Cry. Affirm. Rest.

And not just occasionally. These are part of a daily and lifelong practice. To practice living.

But the first, the most essential thing, is going deep within, looking our deepest fear in its pale face and saying: “I believe in me.”

And then looking our sweetest self in its eager face and saying together: “I believe in me.”

This is not easy, and often takes a long time. But, once seen, it is known.

Showing up everyday knowing and believing, in the same unquestioning way we know we’re alive, that we are inherently whole and complete.

There is nothing to prove, to earn – it just is.

That is why we can be contradictions—fragile and tenacious, shy and take initiative, joyful and scared, controlling and trusting—and still be whole.

Just as all living beings are.

This truth provides the infinite strength and compassion to see others and see all of them. To be whole together.

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The Unseen Wheel

unseen wheel

While the days march by in a line across our calendar, they are actually cycling through the seasons.

The unseen wheel is always turning while we grind away on the day to day.

This is so easy to forget.

And such a relief to remember.

Reality Bites

I got home last night after visiting a friend for a long weekend.

I had already done my usual Sunday chores and then some, including stopping at my post office box, before I left so the reentry was quite smooth with few steps.

I stopped at the grocery store on the way home, then unpacked, heated up some dinner and opened up the pile of mail.

At the bottom of the stack was a reality check.

I wish that meant it was a check with earnings for recent time spent living in the present, going with the flow, seeing things as they truly are, instead of how I want them to be.

Nope. It was the opposite.

It was one of my business credit card statements.

The long list of purchases had been necessary investments over the last year of getting my new business off the ground. Or seemed necessary in order to manifest the business.

Perhaps that was just the way I wanted things to be because I believe so much in it?

This was not actually the reality check.

It was the total amount of the credit card statement.

Reality Check

Given the pangs in my gut each time I used the card recently, I knew it was getting up there.

Expenses out without much income in is discouraging. And when you’re starting something new discouragement doesn’t help. At all.

And so, I had been focused on making progress, moving forward, being into each day one at a time without getting bogged down in the details.

What I hadn’t been paying attention to was how up there.

And it had crossed my imaginary tipping point of what seemed safe and doable. Now, it was at the level that seemed risky and scary.

That made my whole gut clench like a fist and yet also hollow out. Like a black hole imploding into itself.

I could instantly feel the hole, perhaps a hole that had been slowly growing over the last year, but that denial had been filling?

I did not feel whole.

Like gusts of cold breeze through an open window, many emotions passed through me as I sank down into my 45-year-old armchair.

  • Hurt by this consequence of past decisions that seemed right at the time,
  • Mourning for past successes not just breaking even, but saving ahead,
  • Anger at well-intentioned but broken systems,
  • Overwhelmed by the task of repairing the imbalance,
  • Scared by the possibility of not closing the hole.

And yet, I knew there was nothing I could do in that moment.

I could eat my dinner and watch a DVD from the library. And make some tea.

When the electric kettle whistled, I went over to the window sill where it’s plugged in. Something outside caught my eye. Something white.

With freezing temperatures across the state, I had driven home that day in rain, sleet and snow. But, arriving home the streets were bare.

Several hours later, in the dark as I was watching a movie and sitting with my feelings and this reality check, snow had quietly begun falling outside.

I looked closer, surprised.

Yes, the yard was in fact dusted with the powdered sugar snow.

Just as the credit card statement had snapped me into the moment, the snow snapped me into the bigger picture.

Reality Check

Of the seasons, the unseen wheel constantly turning. Always in motion.

Of which, gives us our days, weeks, months.

Of a system constantly harmonizing to realign with what’s showing up.

Of which, I am a small part.

And in which I am whole.

And when I consider the whole — of my life, of the natural world, of a mysterious force — I can once again find trust.

That things will work out, somehow.

And perspective. That things work themselves out over time and space, sometimes lots.

And peace.

And so, I find my way back to the natural rhythm as I continue to focus on making progress, moving forward, being into each day one at a time.

Without getting bogged down as I grind away on the day-to-day.

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There is No Catching Up

no catching up

There is no catching up. Only focusing forward.

I find this hard to believe. Why would the phrase even exist, if it’s not a thing?

Well, perhaps it was a thing once upon a time.

This lesson keeps coming knocking at my little cottage of a life’s door.

Over the last couple weeks, it’s been showing up again and again and I definitely haven’t been “opening the door”:

  • Unsent birthday cards
  • A week’s worth of dirty dishes piled up
  • Two weeks worth of unread emails

And then, it really I started banging at the door when I got behind on writing:

  • Weekly newsletter—that I didn’t write or send—and is supposed to go out on Mondays

Alright, alright. That’s enough. I’m opening the door wide open so this lesson can come right on in.

Teachable Moment: Do I try to catch up by sending out the newsletter later in the week? Or just skip it?

The Myth of Catching Up

The idea of catching up immediately connotes winning and losing for me, just like in a race.

Those who are behind are losing. Those who are ahead, who cross the finish line first are winning.

This win-lose mindset is a form of competition and comparison. And, many will tell you that comparison is the cousin of perfectionism. I agree.

Comparing this to that elevates one, creating it as an ideal. And idealizing is also a form of perfectionism: Seeing things the way we want them to be (often flawless) and not the way they actually are.

For instance, our ideal that life is only good when everything is done, everything is caught up.

Is it possible to catch up?

Sure in the racing analogy, it is, but it likely requires a big push of energy. Energy that might not really be available, hence the slower pace.

Likewise, to take the analogy off the race track and over to real life, not only does catching up expend a lot of energy, but it often neglects other current tasks or prep for upcoming tasks, thus creating even more of a pile up.

This creates a continuous and vicious cycle of catching up.

And, generates a survival mode that is often equated with treading water.

But one can only tread water for so long before drowning, right?

Not the desired outcome.

So, let’s consider this for a second:

Effort requires energy, so energy will be used regardless. But, catching up from behind often takes even more energy. So then, why aren’t we putting our energy into focusing forward, instead of catching up?

How to Get Caught Up

Let’s go back to the example at hand: Monday came and went and because of a series of choices and distractions, I didn’t write or send my weekly newsletter.

And, for context, I will be traveling Thursday and Friday, so it is a short week of work.

What are the possible next steps?

  • Hustle to write it and send it out today.
  • Let the guilt hang over me all week and attempt to get it out another day.
  • Let go of it. Accept the lose and move forward for next week.

This last option is the only way to actually get caught up: Focusing forward.

Makes sense, right?

Like in dancing — miss a beat, catch the next one. Don’t start the whole song over every time.

Then, why is it so hard to do?

In this newsletter instance, because I made a promise, a commitment to dependability with a Monday delivery. Breaking that promise means I’m going back on my word.

Note: I can’t quickly locate any of the communications research I studied in graduate school, but there is plenty that correlates trust in communication with consistent time and day of distribution, thus dependability. So, it’s not simply my work ethic.  

Wanting to relieve that discomfort, my guilt leads me to bargaining. Trying to find a compromise, for instance, sending later in the week with an apologetic disclaimer.

But any compromise is just that. I’m not just bargaining with my past then, but also with my future.

Catching up inevitably leads to a trade-off of some future accomplishment.

After all, there are only so many hours in the day.

Staying Caught Up

By focusing forward, we can actually stay “caught up.”

Let’s use an example I hear all the time: “Let’s grab coffee and catch up.”

Imagine you haven’t someone in six months and a lot has happened since then so, of course, you want to be filled in.

But, by the time both of you get caught up with sharing stories from the last six months, your coffee’s are cold, the available time has elapsed and you haven’t necessarily shared what’s going on right now.

That’s okay. You can hear about what’s happening right now in another six months when you get the re-runs at your next coffee!

Or…you could each share what’s happening, interesting and important in your lives right now.

What’s happened has happened. That doesn’t make it unimportant. Simply not current.

If it was important, like a death in the family, then it’s likely still part of the present and so will probably come up in reference to a story related to today.

Thus, when coffee is done you’ll be moving forward in your lives together.

This is something I’ve been practicing for awhile, including reframing the encounter to cut out the catching up: “Let’s get coffee and connect” (about right now).

Lives of Catching Up

By focusing on staying current—doing what gets done, learning about right now, rescheduling what’s critical and discarding the rest—life starts to actually feel doable.

Instead of that oppressive feeling of not getting anywhere.

In the last couple weeks I’ve noticed how pervasive this idea of catching up is throughout my whole life. I’m always catching up. Not just with work projects and tasks or with friends, but with everything.

There is no room for falling behind, none the less for the present, because the future is already spoken for.

Just in January alone, three books were recommended to me that related to what I’m currently curious about or studying. I wanted to read them so I checked them out of the library.

Each night, I pass my bookshelf to get into bed and the other day, I glanced over at the top shelf as I carried one of the new library books up to bed with me.

As I paused, I realized:

  • All the books on that shelf were ones I wanted to read when I moved them from my last apartment nine months ago,
  • I had read exactly one book from that shelf in the last nine months,
  • I carried guilt about not following through on my good intentions, and perhaps most poignantly,
  • There was no room for new books!

Even though I had downsized and gotten rid of half my belongings in the move, apparently I had still moved many, many good intentions. Tiny plans for the future.

Not a bad future, but one based on an imagined reality, not an informed one. Not what’s showing up right now.

Beyond the bookshelf, I noticed tiny, good intentions everywhere—surplus bubble wrap, tissue paper, boxes, lotion, soap.

It’s true, most of those practical items will be needed someday in my life. But right now, they add to the pile up of things that my life needs to catch up to!

Catching Up On Life

Like reframing coffee date encounters, releasing good intentions is a relatively minor mindset shift and easily implementable once noticed.

But, what about lost time?

A couple weeks ago, I was talking to my Dad about my life right now—we stay pretty current and active in each others’ lives—and about starting over this year with a new business at 35 years old.

He asked an informed and relatively innocent question:

“But how are you going to get financially secure by 40? It’s very hard to catch up after that.”

What he meant was, given how little I’d been able to earn and save to date in my entrepreneurial pursuits, how would this new business earn me the income over the next five years to buy a home and create a nest egg for retirement that will mature over 20-30 years so that I can actually retire.

It’s a valid question. Especially for a caring parent to ask. Albeit one who settled down financially in a different, booming economic era.

My answer: It’ll will be tough. And possibly unlikely.

Definitely unlikely if I’m focused on catching up, instead of on focusing forward.

Begin Again, In Love

What does focusing forward look like?

Lots of grace. Accepting what is, both what didn’t happen as expected or planned, and any resulting guilt. As quickly as possible.

The vast majority of what doesn’t happen wasn’t a must, but a should as Elle Luna so elegantly expounds in her Medium post.

Putting faith in the musts—what must get done always does—there is once again plenty of time.

From this blank slate, we can “begin again in love” as the Reverend at the church I attend likes to quote.

And from love is born all of the grace and most (if not all) of the musts that our life actually needs.

But, will love help me find financial security by 40, I can imagine my Dad wondering?

Love for all my fellow soul searchers also figuring out how to be whole in the here and now? My guess is yes.

The immediate lesson for this week’s teachable moment is clear: skip the newsletter and move on, wholeheartedly, to write this post for another week’s newsletter.

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