Daily Dose (Aug 20 – 23)
TUESDAY AUGUST 20 —
This week, choosing to live deliberately. Referencing my story about a sign, as I entered a public park, “Enter at your own risk.”
I do want to live deliberately. To care, to grieve, to love, to begin again, to give birth to passion. To open our heart, accept loss, be overcome by beauty, sustain friendship. To sit in stillness, wrestle with prayer and faith. To speak the truth, and offer sanctuary to joy, sadness or injustice.
And yes, this does come with risk and caution tape, knowing that broken wide open, we will face parts of our self and world that feel disorienting.
A man who took great pride in his lawn found himself with a large crop of dandelions. He tried every method he knew to get rid of them. Still, they plagued him. Finally, he wrote the department of agriculture. He enumerated all the things he had tried and closed his letter with the question: “What shall I do now?”
In due course the reply came: “We suggest you learn to love them.”
And Anthony de Mello continued…
I too had a lawn I prided myself on, and I too was plagued with dandelions that I fought with every means in my power. So, learning to love them was no easy matter.
I began by talking to them each day. Cordial. Friendly. But they maintained a sullen silence. They were smarting from the war I had waged against them, and they were suspicious of my motives.
But it wasn’t long before they smiled back. And relaxed.
Soon we were good friends.
My lawn, of course, was ruined.
But how attractive my new garden became!
(Thank you Anthony de Mello)
This does my heart good. It is about the life-giving freedom of being at home in our own skin.
It’s never been easy for me to admit (or embrace and own) blemishes or blights. (You know, “my dandelions”.)
I have been in quandaries where tears freely flowed, and here’s the irony; I spent my energy attempting to explain the tears away (or ashamed, trying my best to hide them).
So. Learning to love those parts of me was no easy matter. But I began by talking to them each day. And now, we are good friends.
Gratefully, now, I’ve been more comfortable with those parts of me… the life-giving vulnerable parts. To not be afraid of those parts, that seem soft or unprotected (or whatever we label as weak or fragile).
Yes. At home in our own skin, there is freedom to deliberately know that life (wonder, savoring, awe, gratitude, connection, gooseflesh) is not what happens only after all is unblemished and picture perfect.
Tonight begins three days of a rare combination of a super and blue moon. I hope you won’t miss a chance to savor the view.
WEDNESDAY AUGUST 21 —
Sanctuary moors us to the true (grounded) self at our core. Unmoored, we give way to a veneer that is injurious.
Here is the great irony. “Enter at your risk” need not mean, “shut down your heart”… or restrict your life or your passion or your sorrow or your joy. It is the opposite: enter at your own risk, precisely because your heart is fully engaged. Yes, choosing to live deliberately. Yes, fully present and fully alive.
And we are drawn to stories of individuals who live fully engaged, choosing to live deliberately, both in their pursuit of excellence, and being grounded in humility.
I loved this recent reflection about American sprinter Noah Lyles from the recent Summer Olympics. “Noah earned the title of world’s fastest man by winning gold in the 100-meter dash. Shortly after, he wrote in a social media message to fans: ‘I have asthma, allergies, dyslexia, A.D.D., anxiety, and depression. But I will tell you that what you have does not define what you can become. Why not you!’”
(Thank you Brad Stulberg, The real power of the Olympics)
Yes. Let us not forget, our true self at our core, is more than the labels that attach themselves. Labels that limit and dismiss. Labels connected to and fueled by shame.
And amen to Charlotte Kasl’s reminder, “Shame is essentially the degree to which you mistake your labels for your identity. If you draw your labels into the core of yourself, you can no longer see the center.”
So. Let us pause, and hear this: Blessed are you who know deep in your bones—even in the broken—that you are beautiful. And beloved. And sacred. And worthy. And believed. And held. And capable of healing beyond your wildest imagination.
In the words of Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes;
“We do not become healers.
We came as healers. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not become storytellers.
We came as carriers of the stories
we and our ancestors actually lived. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not become artists. We came as artists. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not become writers… dancers… musicians… helpers… peacemakers.
We came as such. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not learn to love in this sense.
We came as Love. We are Love.
Some of us are still catching up to who we truly are.”
THURSDAY AUGUST 22 —
I want to live deliberately.
I want to live and choose, from my true—unique, grounded and beloved—self.
And I believe you want to do the same. So. Again, let us pause, and hear this: Blessed are you who know deep in your bones—even in the broken—that you are beautiful. And beloved. And sacred. And worthy. And believed. And held. And capable of healing beyond your wildest imagination.
Here are two stories and invitations to carry with us, that will do the heart good.
On May 4, 1980, Howard Thurman encouraged the graduates of Spelman College to listen to, and to become, their unique selves.
“The burden of what I have to say to you this afternoon is, ‘What is your name, who are you and can you find a way to hear the sound of the genuine in yourself?’ There are so many noises going on inside of you, so many echoes of all sorts, so [much] internalizing of the rumble and the traffic, the confusions, the disorders by which your environment is peopled that I wonder if you can get still enough—not quiet enough—still enough to hear rumbling up from your unique and essential idiom the sound of the genuine in you. I don’t know if you can. But this is your assignment…
There is something in every one of you that waits, listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself and if you cannot hear it, you will never find whatever it is for which you are searching… You are the only you that has ever lived; your idiom is the only idiom of its kind in all the existences and if you cannot hear the sound of the genuine in you, you will all of your life, spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls…
Who are you? How does the sound of the genuine come through to you?
Don’t be deceived and thrown off by all the noises that are a part even of your dreams, your ambitions… that you don’t hear the sound of the genuine in you because that is the only true guide that you will ever have and if you don’t have that you don’t have a thing. You may be famous, you may be whatever the other ideals are which are a part of this generation but you know you don’t have the foggiest notion of who you are, where you are going, what you want. Cultivate the discipline of listening to the sound of the genuine in yourself.”
(Howard Thurman, “The Sound of the Genuine,” Baccalaureate Address, Spelman College, May 4, 1980. Text edited by Jo Moore Stewart)
And we’ll give Richard Rohr the final word. “There is in every one of us the imago dei (the image of God)… Our unique divine DNA, an inner destiny as it were, an absolute core that knows the truth about you, a true believer tucked away in the cellar of your being, an imago Dei that begs to be allowed, to be fulfilled, and to show itself. This is your True Self or soul. Paradoxically, immense humility, not arrogance, characterizes the True Self. You simultaneously know you are a son or daughter of God, but you also know that you didn’t earn it and you are not worthy of it. You know it’s entirely a gift. All you can do is thank Somebody Else, occasionally weep with joy, and kneel without any hesitation. The single and true purpose of mature religion is to lead you to ever new experiences of your True Self. If religion does not do this, it is junk religion. Every sacrament, every Bible story, every church service, every sermon, every hymn, every bit of priesthood, ministry, or liturgy is for one purpose: to allow you to experience your True Self—who you are in God and who God is in you—and to live a generous and just life from that Infinite Source.” (Thank you Richard Rohr)
FRIDAY AUGUST 23 —
Let us learn from Sally, Charlie Brown’s sister, who went to Summer camp. She was supposed to be gone a week. Peppermint Patty asked her why she returned home the day after she went.
“They said if I went to camp it would be good for me. They said if I went to camp, I would find myself,” Sally told her. “Well, I got off the bus, and there I was. So, I came home.”
Yes. Grounded, as in, at home in my own skin.
And here’s the deal: I want to live and choose, from my true—unique, grounded and beloved—self.
I want to live deliberately.
So where do we go? To live from our true—unique, grounded and beloved—self? Where do we find the refueling, replenishment and reminder for a sense of self?
I need to ask myself the same question I ask anyone who seeks my opinion about any of life’s challenges: Where do you hear the voice of Grace? Seriously.
And when did you hear it last?
And, are you willing to be loved for being this you?
I’m a movie buff and love the Harrison Ford movie from 1991, Regarding Henry, about a genuine-SOB-lawyer, who is shot in a random accident. After, he is not the same, mentally, physically, or spiritually. During his rehabilitation, he has a friendship with Bradley, his physical therapist. “I thought I could go back to my life, but I don’t like who I was Bradley… I don’t fit in.”
Bradley, “I got bad knees. Football, wrecked ‘em both playing college football. Man, that was my life. What else was there. No jack… safety hit me… game over, my life was over. Ask me if I mind having bad knees. No way. I had to find a life. Don’t listen to nobody trying to tell you who you are.”
And this, from Anthony de Mello. “I was neurotic for years. I was anxious and depressed and selfish. Everyone kept telling me to change. I resented them, and I agreed with them, and I wanted to change, but simply couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. Then one day someone said to me, ‘Don’t change. I love you just as you are.’ Those words were music to my ears: ‘Don’t change, Don’t change. Don’t change . . . I love you as you are.’ I relaxed. I came alive. And suddenly I changed!”
Yes. Grace, the voice that allows us to be at home in our own skin.
Today, in the garden, I was serenaded by a Red Admiral Butterfly. My Oh My.
And yes, a wonderful reminder of the contagious power of hope.
Prayer for our week…
Let the rain come and wash away
the ancient grudges, the bitter hatreds
held and nurtured over generations.
Let the rain wash away the memory
of the hurt, the neglect.
Then let the sun come out and
fill the sky with rainbows.
Let the warmth of the sun heal us
wherever we are broken.
Let it burn away the fog so that
we can see each other clearly.
So that we can see beyond labels,
beyond accents, gender or skin color.
Let the warmth and brightness
of the sun melt our selfishness.
So that we can share the joys and
feel the sorrows of our neighbors.
And let the light of the sun
be so strong that we will see all
people as our neighbors.
Let the earth, nourished by rain,
bring forth flowers
to surround us with beauty.
And let the mountains teach our hearts
to reach upward to heaven.
Amen.
Rabbi Harold Kushner
Photo… “Good morning Terry. This was the sunset at Panama City Beach, FL this past weekend. So beautiful it looks fake. Thank you for your daily encouragement!” Kate Wilson… Thank you Kate.. And I’m so grateful for your photos, please send them to [email protected]
