Arriving at Truth

"Yeah, the pool's open, but it'll be like swimming in a pond," Scott at the front desk of the gym said.
"How so?" I asked.
"The water's really cloudy, murky," he replied.
"But it's still open AND heated?"
"Yes."

And so I forged ahead with my Thursday swim, thinking no big deal. Well, it was; more so than I had anticipated.

Laden with scratched-up goggles and dense humidity, I began my first length only to flounder as I gulfed the deep end. The black-tile line on the bottom disappeared. I hadn't before understood how much I relied on it and other visual cues to swim straight. I slapped up again the buoyed-line separating the lanes, narrowly missed the side wall and slammed the end tile with my hand.

This isn't going to be so easy, I told myself. Even the water seemed heavier and more resistant. After a few laps, I almost gave up until I recognized the metaphor I was living. This is what life is like when the path is obstructed.

At first, it's disorienting. There are no guides and nothing is familiar. It can be defeating.

And, the energy it requires is astounding. How much more it takes to stay alert and focused. When everything is familiar and known, we glide through with ease and little appreciation, automatically.

If you stick with the fuzziness, though, you begin to detect, however faintly, the (your) guide again. In the dimness, we regain our confidence and also begin to trust. Our awareness is growing.

Eventually, we can relax into the unknown as we cast off perfection and recognize it is okay just because we are attempting it. About lap 10, I smiled (much as one can, holding their breath when the mouth is submerged and quickly releasing to take in air on the upturn) thinking about my favorite line from the movie "Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" when the young manager says: "Everything will be okay in the end, if it's not okay, it's not the end."

No one else had ventured into the wet murkiness with me, which was another reminder of how, in seeking the spiritual path, we often feel humanly alone. There is, however, also great freedom in finding our own way and rhythm. Comparisons and competition are eliminated. We get to know ourselves more intimately in this manner, which may be the point.

I could see how much of life, when we live with great ease, is taken for granted. We don't realize the crutches that lure us into autopilot and rob us of awareness of what lay beyond. When the path is unclear or missing, we lose the illusion that we are responsible for where we are, what we have and who we are. In the fog, ego takes a back seat when we can trust Spirit's guidance and forge ahead, even blindly. We also give up the ease of efficiency, which we have mistaken for control.

So I swam three-fourths of my usual regime because this swim required so much more focus, concentration and energy. I gave up the idea that I had to do what I usually do because this circumstance was unusual and teaching me many things. So when my body felt ready, I stopped, grateful for the unexpected journey. I had traveled less territory in the same amount of time, but I had been in a heightened state, alert, aware and in tune in a manner I had never been before when swimming. It carried a dreamlike quality.

I treaded water and stretched as I normally do, then wanted to float in the isolation. And, for a millisecond, I got a glimmer of true surrender. I have always known that learning to float ... to let go, but not completely, is surrender. That knowing emerged when I erased all of my boundaries and became the water.

I am the water, I thought.
I am everything.
I am one.
I am.

I found myself arriving at Truth because of the murkiness, not in spite of it.

UPDATE: Tuesday and the water is clear. I learn that, perhaps, I misplace my trust: too much outside of me, when I know seeds of the Divine reside within me. Yes, the line was easily visible on the bottom of the pool today. But, after last week's experience, I know I can trust the Inner Teacher to guide me.

• When has what seemed like an obstacle or annoyance taught me a major lesson?
• When have I felt I was living a metaphor?
• Describe the quality of that level of awareness.
• Did I find accompaniment?
• Where was Spirit in all of this?


warned that things
weren't as they usually are

I plunged ahead with
the typical ease of

superficiality, getting on
with things and unthinking

losing each layer of unawareness
as my normal compass faded,
lines blurred and I felt
lost

gaining insight, detachment
as ego took a back seat
and I experienced, if
only for a second,
deep surrender

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January journey

Another sub-zero temperature, another school cancellation, another day without routine. I have loved having my teenagers underfoot and the permission to sleep in and recover from the holidays and stress of my mother's heart surgery.

I had already agreed to allow myself some freedom in January to relax and take the wider view of life, settle into the new year and reflect on the lessons of 2013. In fact, I was looking forward to a local retreat Saturday to do just that, but a short-lived and nasty flu-bug prevented me. In bed, I did look over my 2013 posts, categorizing them and what I learned. And the generous retreat leader has offered to walk me through the day and share materials later this week.

I tend to forget some of my acquired wisdom, so pouring over journals and blogs is really an intimate and important task for me. So, here's is what I uncovered:

Shaping my life

• Beginning EVERY day with prayer.

• Creating my own structure, the one that works for me, in doing God’s work and using my gifts.

• Trading the busyness and super structure for dreaming, closeness to God and deep relationship with others.

• Owning my power and creativity.

• Creativity brings prosperity.

• Living my dreams, not my doubts.

• Abandoning my high standards, which are not God's.

• Trusting, but also using my talents.

Naming and claiming my gifts

• Tapping my understanding of the relationship between the physical body, mind,

emotions and soul nerves.

• Claiming my beauty and gifts and sharing them with a needy world.

• Playfulness is a portal for the soul.

• Acknowledging that I have a gift of healing energy.

My life’s work

• When feeling depressed to go even deeper to locate that creative spark because

I hold everything necessary to complete the transformation from darkness to light.

• Fulfillment comes from penetrating the depths of my hidden psyche and mastering

the shadow.

• Giving up my props.

• Recognizing my badges of survival as wisdom.

Understanding the Mystery

• Knowing the seed of God really is within me.

• Doing as God requires: Love and enjoy the freedom of who you are in all of your glory. Break free, I release you.

• Bearing the cross to freedom.

• It is through our brokenness that we may approach Jesus, for the Christ energy

truly understands and has the ability to absorb our brokenness, freeing us to more wholly give ourselves to God. Jesus is, indeed, the wounded healer through whom we may find our way to God.

• Remembering the little ways move us toward Spirit.

• The less formed we are, the more pure we become as we approach the Nothingness of Love. This is our origin, void of emotion and thinking. This Nothingness of Love is pure being.

Surrender:

 To lay down:

     – fear and anger,

     – resistance and reluctance,

     – woundedness and disease,

     – struggle and hardship,

     – control and envy,

     – ego and attachment,

     – disconnection and isolation,

     – doubt and murkiness,

     – shoulds and regret.

Healing:

• Healing requires getting to the root.

• Releasing woundedness by surrendering the idea that our wound can be healed.

Attitude

• Viewing life as a great adventure, not something painful to get through.

• Acknowledging that I am living the full experience of life. 

• Unfettering life from my ego and living authentically.

• Stop holding myself up, so I can be held. 

• Remembering moderation.

Emotions

• Casting off to the dark what is not from God.

• Fear is an illusion.

• Appreciating anger as assertiveness.

• Not REpressing or EXpressing, but CONfessing anger.

In essence, Spirit IS the center of me. I will honor us with regular prayer, tending the still, small voice within and aligning myself, thoughts and actions around our relationship. This surrender will fuel my inner reserves, creativity, gifts and work. I will not be bound by the world's ways, but follow Jesus beyond the cross and lose my brokenness in him. I release my wounds and anything not of God, remembering the little ways as crumbs marking my path.

Remind me, will you, if I forget?

• What lessons am I carrying forward from 2013?

• How have I spent time reflecting on them?

• How have the coldness and clean slate inspired or fed me?

• What am I leaving behind?

• How will I nurture myself and Spirit this year?

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Nothing left to chance

Here it was, New Year's Eve again and the only plan we had was for the four of us to do something, anything, together. We'd had a few gracious invitations, but opted for a quieter, more intimate evening. It wasn't as if we hadn't spent quality time together, we had, but mostly that was nestled in the busy-ness of Christmas.

I am grateful my teens still want to hang out with us. They had other options.

Going on 5 p.m., we had yet to form a solid plan. We'd thrown out a list of ideas. All of us liked seeing a movie together, but trying to get four independent people to agree on one was impossible. The fallback was bowling, but one was not quit hip on that. Then it hit, we could combine bowling with our favorite hole-in-the-wall-authentic Mexican restaurant. Everyone was, finally, appeased.

When I called to check how late they served, I was perturbed to hear not late enough for us to bowl and then eat. Back to square one ... or, were we? My husband and I decided to throw caution to the wind and head toward the alley a half hour away and figure dinner out later. My youngest was non-plussed. "But, I like to know what's going to happen," she offered as we entered the highway, the point of no going back."Well, you know we're bowling, after that, we'll have to wing it." Fortunately, she was silent and unusually accepting.

I am an inconsistent bowler, possibly because I do it once a year if that often. So, when I rolled a strike, I was pleased. But not for long, too many gutter balls robbed my dose of self esteem. In a fibromyalgia relapse, my body was screaming louder than my self confidence. Honestly, I hadn't minded until a couple of good bowlers took the lane next to us and I was forced to pay attention. I feel so permeable at times.

At 7, our game was automatically stopped and I was saved further disgrace.

Neither girl liked my suggestion of shopping at Jungle Jim's, just across the street, for a food feast to take home. And, honestly, I didn't relish the idea of cooking. "How about La Rosa's?" we asked. Those were magic words.

Just around the corner, not full on New Year's Eve, we were almost exuberant. Each ordered a favorite and we had a peaceful dinner, mostly spent chewing. Before our dishes arrived, however, I had noticed the pair of older gentlemen perched at the table across our aisle. They ate together, taking their time, not making much conversation, pausing occasionally in the silence and smiling. "Hey do you think they are brothers?" I asked. "Twins," my oldest responded. "You sure, they don't look that much alike?" "Think so," she answered.

I watched them as we devoured our meal. They carried such a peace and grace about them. As we were finishing up, I sauntered over and asked if they were brothers. "Twins," they replied. "Oh my gosh, so am I and so is my husband," I offered. Well, that got the conversation rolling and into identical and fraternal varieties and how they didn't know which they were.

Somehow we gravitated to the classic cars they collect. Gerald, three minutes older (that's important in twin circles; well, not really, more just an automatic statistic), said he'd just purchased a 1959 Cadillac. I wanted to know what one looked like, so I whipped out my phone and started Googling one. "Yup, that's what they look like," Merle said. Gerald suggested a specific web site with one of the most gorgeous, finned cars I'd ever laid eyes on. "That's the one I just bought, be delivered in three weeks." "Oh," I sighed, "just like this one." "No," he said. "That exact one."

Thanks to Overstreet House of Cars

Gleaming white, sparkling silver and a lipstick red, leather interior. I said I could just see Marilyn Monroe in it. "Oh, we had a chance to buy her Cadillac, but it was in bad shape," Gerald noted.

The conversation swayed to their career as sound technicians for local concerts at Music Hall, Cincinnati Gardens and LaSourdsville Lake. They worked for Dick Clark, the Beatles and Grand Funk Railroad offered Gerald a roadie job he declined. Most of their local work was for popular radio station WSAI.

"Hey," I ventured, "do you suppose you did a Grass Roots concert at Music Hall in the early 70s?" "Was it a WSAI concert?" Merle bounced back. "Yes." "Likely it was us."

I confided that it was my first ever rock concert and that my mother had taken me and my twin sister as seventh graders and wanted to know what the sweet-smelling tobacco was. One brave lady.

Boldly I asked their ages, 76. "We take a lot of pills, but the Lord takes care of us," Gerald mentioned and Merle confirmed. "The Lord's been good to us," Gerald said looking me dead in the eyes. "Our mama raised us right." "We're Baptist but don't judge nobody," Merle added. I explained that I was Quaker and they nodded their heads. "Yeah, I know what that is," Merle said.

They seemed so serene and steadfast in their faith; unimaginable for veterans of the rock-and-roll business. "Don't you ever get mad and scream at God?" I asked Gerald. "Never," came the quick reply.

I'd been screaming a lot over the Christmas Break, spent, pushed to the limit, tested, in pain and thinking the icy water at the labyrinth looked pretty tempting, but not really.

Then again, these confirmed bachelors have really only had themselves for family. They share a duplex around the corner from this LaRosa's.

"You know, you're really interesting and I used to be a reporter, you'd make such a great story," I put out there. "Well, people have said our lives would make a good book," Gerald responded. "So, if I ever wanted to get ahold of you, how would I do that?" "Show up at the Wendy's down the street – we say that's our office," Merle instructed me.

I just may someday. In the meantime, I found their street address, just in case, and am left wondering the lesson of this chance encounter. I cherish their ease, tranquility and unflinching faith.

• Where or how has the holiday season left me?
• How did I spend New Year's Eve?
• What recent surprises have I encountered?
• What has the message been?
• What's my prayer for the new year?


peacemaking, so
all of the pieces
are amiable and agreeable

finally finding the resolution
only for it to fall apart,

so we make half
a plan, open to inspiration

when things take
a remarkable turn

as Spirit strikes
and nothing is
left to chance

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