FAILURE, MY FRIEND

Last winter, soaking in a bathtub of steaming hot water, I read a book* by Buddhist nun and teacher Pema Chödrön.  The book is full of wise advice for leaning into the unknown.  She poses the question: "What do we do when life doesn't go the way we hoped?  We say, I'm a failure.' " 

I don't know anyone who is happy with failure; I'd do just about anything to avoid it.  I doubt that I will ever embrace failure as a positive force in life, but I'm being pushed that way.  Everywhere I have turned the last six weeks or so, I have been nudged to change my outlook on failure.  I'm encouraged to be "willing to fail, but unwilling to quit", and, "imagine what I might achieve if I knew that I couldn't fail." 

The problem with all of this is that failure can often result in a fear of trying again.  Fear is a powerful emotion that shapes everything it touches.  How do I get over that?  Pema Chödrön offers this story in her book*:

An older couple living in the country have two things that are precious to them: their horse and their son.

The reason the horse and the son are precious to them is because they need them to survive and farm the land and to tend to everything that needs to be done.  The horse does a lot of work, and the son does a lot of work.  They live in a small village, and their horse, this well trained stallion, runs away, so the wife and all the people in the village say, "OMG! This is definitely the worst thing that could happen.  This is terrible.  This is the worst thing."  The old man says, "Maybe yes, maybe no."

The very next day, the stallion returns with a mare.  That's why he ran away.  So he returns with a mare and now they have two horses.  And the wife and all the people in the village say, "Wow! This is the best thing that could have possibly happened.  This is such good fortune.  Now you have these two horses.  This is amazing!  This is so wonderful!"  And the old man says, "May yes, maybe no."

The next day, the son decides that he needs to tame the mare because she is a wild horse, and in trying to tame her, he gets thrown and breaks his leg.  You can imagine what the wife and the rest of the village said.  "Oy vey.  Why us? This is the worst thing that could happen.  This is a catastrophe."  And by now you know what the old man said: "Maybe yes, maybe no."

The next day, the army comes in and takes away all the young, able-bodied men to fight in the war.  The wife and the villagers really haven't gotten the message that I am trying to get through to you; they are still just blown around by outer circumstances.  When circumstance goes up, they are overjoyed.  When it goes down, they feel their life is over.  But the old man says, "Maybe yes, maybe no."

I need to be more like that old man.  Life brings us many things.  Whether they are good or bad isn't the point...it's just life and what we will make of it.

Pat

Take This Thought Away With You

"This moment is complete just as it is;

I'm complete just as I am;

things are whole and fine just as they are."

~ *Pema Chödrön, Fail - Fail Again - Fail Better,

Sounds True Publishing, 2015 ~

ANY OLD STORY WILL DO

Indigenous author Richard Wagamese once wrote that stories are medicine.  There was a time when I thought I knew exactly what he meant: the ability of stories to heal our wounds, when we share those stories with others.  Stories can cure what ails us when we tell them to someone else...it might be just one other person or many.  That's what I thought.

I've come to understand that stories are more than a healing balm or a cure.  I think stories are also a form of preventative medicine, a treatment that I can store or build up inside for the times when inevitably, I need something to help me get back on track or refocus on what's important  in life.  In those times when things are falling apart around me, or when nothing seems to be working as planned, stories have the power to get me grounded again and moving forward.

Stories are like food preserved in the summer and fall and set aside for later consumption in the depths of winter bleakness.  Stories are like money set aside when things are going really well, something to fall back on when times get tight.  Stories are like laying down a solid foundation for future construction.

When I walked into our living room early one morning, I saw the scene shown in the photo.  There was someone with a book close by a lamp; in the shadows, others gathered around, all of them listening, some of them peering over a shoulder to see a picture.  Three generations were present, listening to a story being shared.  It hardly matters what the story was - what was important was the gathering, the telling, the listening, the sinking in, the putting away.  And, every person present will experience that differently, like a book that was written just for them.

It's the stuff that lives are made of.  Who knows when or how that will come back to the surface for those present?   

Pat

Take This Thought Away With You

"All that we are is story...

It is what we arrive with.

It is all we leave behind."

~ Richard Wagamese ~

DON'T TRY SO HARD!

From the time we are babes, we are taught to try hard, keep going, don't give up or give in.  It becomes instinctive - dig down deep and get it done!  For a lot of challenges and situations in life, that's not bad advice.  Life can be tough and most of us come to realize that we will have to work hard to get ahead.  I think that is one of the lessons my Mom and Dad instilled in me; certainly, it's one of the examples that they lived out.  And, to be truthful it's a good lesson to learn when we are starting out.  It has served me well for most of my life.

My second experience of a silent retreat earlier this week was an example of the opposite being true.  I learned in a short span of three days that sometimes the outcomes we seek are more easily achieved when we don't try so hard.

This time around, the retreat I was seeking was not only silent, but quiet.  I knew that I wouldn't have trouble quelling my tongue; the challenge for me would be subduing my mind.  And so, when we finished lunch on Tuesday at the retreat centre and descended into days of silence, I was conscious of the need to let my mind un-focus, disconnect and drift.  Some might call it a form of surrender, a willingness to be empty of plans, questions and answers...to just "chill".

It worked; the experience was completely different than my first retreat.  My overall feeling was one of relaxed tension, of openness or emptiness (I'm not sure which).  It was like being on a river and letting the current take me where it wanted, with no effort on my part to steer.  It was a time of release.

In modern life, opportunities to surrender my will are rare; to drift can even be dangerous.  Yet, in doing so, it's possible to experience something that is close to freedom.  It's an interior freedom that can thrive while all around me is the push and pull of busy-ness. 

What a liberating gift is surrender.

Pat

Take This Thought Away With You

" When the student is ready, the Master appears."

~ Buddhist proverb ~

HITTING THE PAUSE BUTTON

I'm going to be hitting the pause button next week.  Have you ever felt the need for that?  I'm headed back to the spiritual centre at Loretto Maryholme near Keswick for a three day silent retreat.  I can hardly wait.

I'm hoping to have a slightly different experience than my previous retreat last March.  This time around, I'm going to try hard to silence my brain at the same time I silence my tongue.  That will be a tall order.

Most of the things that anyone would typically do in a silent retreat were very successful in making the "no talking" rule easy to handle.  I took a lot of reading material and spent hours sitting quietly in the sunroom, reading leisurely and snoozing occasionally.  I read a book on leading from within, a couple of novels and I read the Bible.  Even the Good News Bible turned out to be fuel for my over-active brain. 

For instance, I spent hours poring over the wordlist at the back of the scriptures, discovering new words and new meanings: did you know that the term "apostle" may have the sense of "messenger"?  Doesn't that make you think differently about the relationship between Jesus and the disciples?  And what about the months of the Hebrew calendar?  We're in Tishrei right now, autumn, a Babylonian name.  Why did the Jews retain that name from a time when they were in the wilderness? I read a short section reflecting on the spiritual difference between saying, "I believe in God", and "I believe God".  Oh, my busy brain.

This time around, I'm going to try to find the quiet centre and stay there as long as I can.  I'm going to try to move from attempts to distract myself from the silence, to sitting with it and experiencing it as deeply as I can.

I know that sounds weird - it does to me too.  I don't know what to expect, other than it will be a struggle to be quiet in mind, body and soul.  French theologian Blaise Pascal wrote that all men's miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone.

He might be right.  Wish me luck.

Pat

Take This Thought Away With You

" Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority,

it is time to pause and reflect. "

~ Mark Twain ~

DANG IT! A BLISTER

I got a blister on my right heal earlier this week - a location where I am susceptible to friction in my boot.  It built up over a couple days of walking, getting a little bit worse each day until it forced me to take a few days rest.  It's healed up now, but I know that I will have to adopt some corrective measures to keep it from recurring...two pairs of socks ought to do the trick.

I think blisters are illustrations of life's problems in general. 

I'm going along fine, no worries in the world and then, out of nowhere, I get a little twinge that tells me something is not right.  But being me, I tell myself it's nothing and I carry on doing what I was doing - without thinking that perhaps what I am doing is the cause of my discomfort. 

A short time later, the twinge is now a sharp pain and I know that something isn't right; the pain is severe enough to make me limp, to change how I normally act.  But being me, I tell myself, "just go a little bit further, you can work through this, it won't be too bad." 

Eventually, the pain will be bad enough to bring me to a halt and force me to pay attention.  I'll examine the cause of the pain and think to myself, "Wow!  That's a really serious problem; I should have stopped and tended to that earlier.  Boy, was I dumb."

Brought to the point of admitting that I'm hurt and that I need to attend to the injury, I finally start to do what I should have done at the outset: relieve the pressure, let it get some air and dry out, apply some disinfectant and bandage if necessary.  Then change the behaviour that cause the problem in the first place, like wear two pairs of socks.

Lesson from the trail # 6: You can learn a lot from a blister...if you pay attention.  Isn't life always like that?

Pat

Take This Thought Away With You

" Most of the problems in life are because of two reasons:

We act without thinking, or, we keep thinking without acting.  "

~ from the world-wide web ~

LESSONS FROM THE TRAIL - PART 1

My brother Thom and I have decided to re-trace the steps of our Camino pilgrimage from 2011.  We're not going to travel back to Spain - we're going to walk the same distance of 800+ kms right here in our own "backyard", so to speak.  Our plan is to hike about 20 kilometers a day along the trails and back roads around our home; we'll take an occasional day off to recover (and for me to work in Milton) and we hope to finish the distance by Thanksgiving.

To prepare for this physical challenge, Thom and I have been walking regularly in the early morning.  We've been testing out various routes and loops so that we have a variety of scenery to occupy our time on the trail.  Unlike the Camino experience when the terrain changed daily, our pseudo-Camino in North Sydenham will feature a fair amount of retracing of steps along familiar roads.

One thing that will not change from the Camino will be the opportunity to learn lessons while on the trail.  It is a bonus of long distance hiking to have the opportunity to observe and think about what you are experiencing.  In the preparatory stage of the last two weeks, I have already noted several "lessons from the trail" that I think are noteworthy - or, they seemed that way at the time.

Last Saturday, we walked the rail trail from Shallow Lake to the Owen Sound marina - a jaunt of about 13.5 kms.  The moment we stepped out to begin the trek, the skies opened and a deluge of biblical proportions followed us for the first half the journey.  We were quickly soaked from head to toes and I learned two new lessons.  Lesson # 1 - if you are wearing water-proof boots, but it's raining so hard the water is running down your legs, your boots will quickly fill up and stay full of water...because they are water-proof.  An advantage can quickly turn into a disadvantage on the trail.  Lesson # 2 - insect repellent applied before the deluge quickly got washed away once the downpour started.  If the hard rain keeps up, it will act as a natural repellent and most biting insects will stay away.  A disadvantage can quickly turn into an advantage during a long hike.

I don't understand why, but long distance hikes have the capacity to make life simple and obvious; it must have something to do with our mind and body getting in sync with each other while we are covering the distance.  I think that is one of the attractions of being on the trail; who doesn't wish for a simpler life?

 May your ups outnumber your downs.

Pat

Take This Thought Away With You

"You are now free to pursue learning that doesn't take a linear path,

that meanders, that finds joy in the unexpected"

~ Carol Barnier ~

FEROCIOUS STRUGGLES OF LIFE

A lot of my reading this summer has been philosophical contemplative in nature.  Various authors and thinkers have drawn me back to consideration of the age-old questions that human kind have puzzled over for millennia.  One of those is the question of fate: is the general course of our life charted out for us ahead of time?  Is the assumption that human beings ultimately exercise free will in the direction of their living really only a myth?  I can hear you now..."Pat, why do you think this matters and why are you writing about it?"

Let me explain.  A book I've just finished contains a passage by an author that goes, "Life leads us to where we should be, despite our ferocious struggles against it."  When I first read that line, I thought that was a finely crafted phrase that sums up the human experience.  On second thought, I considered the implications of that statement, essentially a negation of the role my choices and actions have in the quality of my living.  Yikes!!!  it might be a nice turn of phrase, but I don't agree with it.

I think that the elements of human life that are 'fateful' are our birth and our death; everything else in between is a combination of never-ending choices and outcomes.  I think humans were made for the 'ferocious struggle'  that is life, the constant effort for good to prevail over evil, for hope to win out when fear would take over. 

Being "made in God's image" (Genesis 1:27) has more to do with how we should live than what shape our bodies might take.  I think that to live a good life, the struggle matters - whether it is bitter or sweet; to have heaven on earth, our personal choices and actions matter.  The truth of that is evident in the world around us if we have eyes to see and ears to hear.

May we be awake and ready for the ferocious struggles of life.

Pat

TAKE THIS THOUGHT AWAY WITH YOU

"No one ever finds life worth living - one has to make it worth living"