Finding Peace amid Chaos

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If we stop long enough to appreciate the small things, they can greatly enhance our lives.

Like snow. 

Last weekend, it was so warm out, I was certain that spring was here at last so I put fertilizer down on the lawn. It snowed the next day. And the next. Then it warmed up a bit, melted the snow, then dumped on us again. We got at least fourteen inches or more. Heavy, wet stuff.

It was hard work shoveling that heavy snow, so with our bodies aching, my husband and I decided to get take-out food from a nearby Mexican restaurant. As we drove home, we noticed how the trees on both sides of the road, some as tall as four-story buildings, were covered with a thick frosting and glitter of snow. And silence. Everything that had been outside for the past few days was covered in intricate patterns—houses, mailboxes, wire fences, electric boxes, meadows, shrubs, cars, lawns. Evergreen trees’ branches were bent to the ground as if bowing to the splendor (and weight) of the world. It was truly a magical sight.

Before the snow fell, my daffodils and hyacinths were in bloom, so I cut several of them and brought them inside since I knew they probably wouldn’t survive the predicted snowfall. I set them in a glass of water on the kitchen table and marveled at how their perfume filled the entire room and at the complexity of their beautiful faces—bright yellow frills and petals and stamens on the daffodils and little purple drops of sunshine in the hyacinths. Pure brilliance. Pure joy.

The weekend before the snowfall, my husband and I went for a drive to a popular nearby lake. Because of the social-distancing orders in place due to coronavirus, there were no boats on the lake, something I have never seen on this lake. The water was calm, making its expanse seem even larger than before and I felt a sense of peace come over me as I gazed at its grandeur and inhaled deeply of the fresh mountain air.

I’ve also been missing my family something fierce lately, so our son emailed me a photo of our granddaughter, which I promptly saved as my desktop background on my computer so I can see her shining face everyday. And he sent me a video of her laughing. I think the sound of a baby laughing is the most beautiful sound in all the world.

And those eyes. So innocent and full of hope. I can’t stop looking at those eyes. There comes a time in a child’s life, when the innocence goes from those eyes, and to me, that’s a rather sad time because I think if we could all practice some of that innocence and lack of prejudice as we grow older, our world would be a better place.

Then there’s my dog. I let her out first thing in the morning after all that snow had fallen and the first thing she did was find her ball, that looked like a giant marshmallow in the yard because it was covered with snow. She pushed it around with her nose, romping and playing in drifts there were up to her chest, and she’s not a small dog. My dog didn’t complain that it was cold outside. She simply enjoyed the moment.

As I watched her pounce and spring with the exuberance of a deer, I thought about how I need to be more like that.

I need to appreciate the small things and live in the moment. I need to stop worrying about things over which I have no control—will I lose my job due to this virus? When will I be able to hug my family and friends? I pray with all my soul that none of my family or friends die from this and that people all over the world continue to recover and that no more will die… When will this be over? What’s going to happen to us? To our world? What about those on the front lines who are putting their lives in danger on a daily basis? And the grocery store workers and those with small businesses that have had to close their doors for good? What will happen to the homeless people and the elderly who are like sitting ducks in nursing homes?

My dog doesn’t worry about these things. She lives to chase squirrels and bunnies from the yard and surrounds herself with getting pets and whether or not I’m going to share a bite of my dinner with her.

My granddaughter doesn’t worry about stuff either. Her parents take care of her every need.

My flowers and trees don’t worry. They bloom every year in spite of the fact that they may get covered with snow before they have a chance to truly shine. 

The robins and the finches, the hawks and the eagles that visit my yard don’t worry either. They continue to sing their cheerful songs in spite of the global pandemic that’s happening all around them.

All of these have enriched my life, and perhaps, if coronavirus hadn’t forced me to slow down, I may not even have noticed them, much less appreciated the gifts they have to offer—peace within chaos. Peace and healing within grace…

…my prayer for the world.

Pearls from Horses

June 9, 2009

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My intention for starting this blog and writing my book is to get people thinking “outside the box,” as the saying goes.

I see so many people pining for meaning in their lives and yet surrendering to mediocrity, often because they don’t know where to look for answers.
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Will the World End in 2012?

February 4, 2010

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I’m sure by now most of you have heard some of the hype about the year 2012: that the Mayan calendar ends there, therefore perhaps the world will end then too. For me, that thought conjures up images of doom and gloom—Armageddon, fire, turmoil and a “you’d-better-have-your-shit-together-by-now- because-if-you-don’t-it’s-too-late” feeling of complete helplessness.

But people have predicted the end of the world for as long as I can remember. In the ‘60s there were cartoons of beatniks carrying signs that read “The end is near.” (Or maybe there really were hippies carrying signs like that, I just didn’t see them because I was too young at the time!)

In 1999, they said we would never get to the year 2000 because computers would freak out and life as we knew it would erupt in utter chaos. Some of my neighbors stock-piled freeze-dried food, bottles of water and gasoline. But the world didn’t end. Perhaps our computers were smarter than we gave them credit for.

Now they’re saying that 2012 will be the end. After all the articles I’ve read and “experts” I’ve heard speak on the matter, I’ve come to my own conclusions.

I choose not to dwell in doom and gloom. I don’t believe God dwells in doom and gloom either. I believe God is hope and light.

I choose that hope and light. Therefore, I don’t think 2012 will be the end. I think it will be a new beginning.

True, we seem to be experiencing many more natural disasters all over the world than in the past. And I don’t know about you, but I sense something different in the air—that our way of looking at things seems to be changing—we are even more hungry for spiritual fulfillment than ever before and a lot of us are no longer satisfied with accepting someone else’s definition of “The Truth” based on blind faith alone.

I think this is great! We cannot grow if we don’t ask questions and discover our own answers. If you’re completely happy with your life, that’s wonderful, but if not, by looking in other directions you may discover what you’re looking for. Or rather, what you’re looking for will find you! But I’ll save that for another post.

j0437185My interpretation of 2012 is that people will become more spiritually aware, more tolerant and loving. It’s already happening, don’t you see? The outpouring of love for those who’ve endured the earthquakes, 9/11, the hurricanes and tsunamis—the coming together of complete strangers to help those in need. And maybe the reason for these disasters is to teach us not to segregate ourselves based on the color of our skin or to fight over whose religion is the truth, but to come together as brothers and sisters. We obviously haven’t been getting the message thus far, so maybe these things are God’s way of forcing us to unite.

The mystical experience I had in 2003 was a tremendous gift bestowed upon me. It showed me that nothing is more powerful than love and that there is no separation between me and God and all the living and non-living things of this world and all worlds. I know this sounds cliché, but it’s all so simple really. This is why I believe that 2012 will be a time of rebirth for our world—a new way of looking at ourselves and realizing our connection to one another, to this earth and to the Divine. I’m not saying there won’t be great upheaval, because sometimes this is what it takes to wake us up. If we’ve reached the bottom of the barrel, there is nowhere to go but UP, right? So if we stick together and continue to believe in the power of love, we will emerge stronger than before and find ourselves in a world of new possibilities for spiritual growth and the attainment of our human need to realize God on a personal basis—whatever that definition means to you.

In each and every moment, we have a choice.

I choose love.

The Best Definition of Heaven and Hell

 

February 24, 2011

I grew up in an era when the Mass was all in Latin and as a Catholic school student, I had to go to church every morning before class. I remember sitting in pews crammed with children like me, all wearing our coats because it was Wisconsin and cold outside, our bookbags and metal lunch pails taking up what little room there was on the floor in front of us behind the kneelers and on the wooden pews where we were supposed to sit. It was kind of like a contest to see who would pass out first—I bet today it’ll be that third-grader, little Johnny B. in Sister Agatha’s class…

All the while, men in robes at the foot of the altar chanted in Latin and waved incense that made my nose sting and my stomach churn. I didn’t understand it, but that’s the way it was, so I didn’t question it. Then afterward, back in our classroom, our teacher, Sister Bernadette, would tell us about how we were supposed to fear the Lord and if we didn’t spend our whole lives repenting, we would go to hell when we died.

Okay, this is my interpretation. Organized religion satisfies the spiritual needs of a lot of people and I think that’s great. It just didn’t work for me. I saw too much hypocrisy there and too many double standards, like why couldn’t women be priests? And how could a priest counsel people on marriage if he wasn’t allowed to marry?

And how could I ever be really happy since, being born a sinner, I was supposed to spend my whole life pleasing God, who, because I was a sinner, I wasn’t humanly capable of pleasing in the first place? But I was obligated to try anyway. And if God were in a particularly agreeable mood the day I died, He might consider letting me into heaven if I was lucky and if I’d been good. But there were no guarantees. All this did was make me feel small and inadequate.

The more I thought about it, the more I decided that gnashing my teeth and burning in hell didn’t sound like my idea of a good time. On the other hand, cloud-squatting didn’t sound too interesting either. I mean, just how many clouds can one count and how many songs can one learn to play on the harp before one gets bored, even if one has an inclination to these types of activities, which I don’t? Eternity is a long time!

I also don’t think God is vengeful. I don’t think God can be anything but love. And I don’t think God wants to be feared because fear is the opposite of love.

The best definition of heaven and hell that I’ve ever heard, comes from an ancient Zen story. It goes something like this:

“Is there such a thing as heaven and hell?” a student once asked his teacher.

“Oh yes!” replied the teacher.

Surprised at this response, the student asked his teacher to explain.

“And how are you feeling right now, at this moment?” the teacher asked.

The sun was shining, the day was warm, the student had just finished a nice breakfast and was basically in good health.

Confused, the student replied, “Fine, why?”

“That is heaven,” the teacher told him. Then without missing a beat, the teacher promptly picked up his foot and stomped it down as hard as he could upon the student’s bare foot, causing the student to cry out in excruciating pain. “And that, my dear student, is hell,” said the teacher.

Like all Zen stories, this story is open to one’s interpretation. To me, it means that heaven and hell are here and now, not some place we go when we die. It also means that heaven and hell, like all things, are subject to each person’s perception and may mean something different to you than it does to me.

At first glance, my Catholic background would have told me that if there’s no “place” called heaven, and no reward for living a good life, that makes me feel kind of empty and that my life has no meaning. But the more I think about it, the more I see it’s quite the opposite. I believe in reincarnation. I believe in God. I believe in living my life right now, to the best of my ability to be a good person. And I believe that God has given us gifts and when we discover them and implement them, we become a light unto others. These things bring me to God and that, to me, is what it’s all about.