Embracing The Intentionality Of Nature

The signs are everywhere. The green buds on the barren branches. The yellow daffodils starting their annual bloom. The chirping of the birds greeting the sunrise.

Spring has sprung, leaving the cold and colorless winter behind.

Nature is a wise teacher, and Spring is one of its favorite lessons. Renewal and rebirth. My favorite lesson, though, is one often overlooked and rarely considered.

Intention.

Nature isn’t random. It doesn’t dabble. It creates with intention. Everything is uniquely purposeful, everything created to express itself fully. Every bud, every bug, every blade of grass fulfilling the intentional promise of its creation, significant and purposeful in their own unique way.

Nature reminds me that I am not random. I, too, was created with intention, with a unique purpose only I can express, a purpose intended to be fully expressed. Within us is the opportunity Continue reading “Embracing The Intentionality Of Nature” →

The Magnetic Pull Of The Mud People

I’m often reminded of the things I need to hear, of the lessons I need to learn again. One such lesson is encapsulated in the phrase “No Mud, No Lotus”, a quote attributed to Vietnamese Buddhist Monk Thich Nhat Hahn. It is a teaching of the necessity of contrast, of how the beautiful Lotus flower is first nurtured and cultivated in the mud and darkness in which it grows. Without the mud, there would be no Lotus. From the human perspective, the mud represents our pain and suffering, the Lotus represents our having grown through it.

From time to time I find myself cursing the mud I have once again gotten stuck in, frustrated and impatiently waiting for my desired Lotus to finally bloom. It’s only when I remember that being frustrated and impatient only gives me more to be frustrated and impatient about. When I release my tight grip on what I don’t want I am then able to make space to grasp what I do want.

When I release the mud, only then am I ready to receive the Lotus.

I’ve come to see that there are two types of people we tend to surround ourselves with. Mud people and Lotus people. The Mud people are more common, much more prevalent. Their familiar presence almost feels comfortable to some. The Mud people are the ones who keep us stuck. Intentionally or not, their proximity stirs up the murky waters of our lives, thickening the viscosity of the emotional mud we claim we want to escape but on some level have come to Continue reading “The Magnetic Pull Of The Mud People” →

The Homes I Can Never Go Home To Again

Ruben’s Atomic Chicken Fingers!

I unexpectedly found myself back in an area I briefly lived in about 30 years ago. A break in the meeting schedule and I was free to roam around for a few hours and I spontaneously decided to retrace some footsteps I had left three decades earlier.

Driving around brought me back mentally and emotionally. I even found a Spotify playlist of 1990’s alt-rock and grunge to bring me back even further. Salem to Nashua via Rte 111. Much was the same. Much was different. I knew I was different, much different than who I was back when I first traveled these roads those many years ago.

And then I remembered Ruben’s Atomic Chicken Fingers.

The more youthful me would find himself many a night belly to the bar at Shorty’s Mexican Roadhouse, never a need to review their rather extensive menu. I knew what I was there for, and the only question was for how many.

Lightly breaded, deep fried chicken fingers served with a sweet-yet-hot thick and sticky dipping sauce, the sweetness lowering your guard making it easy for the heat to find its way down the back of your throat. A cold beer at the ready and at that moment everything was perfect with the world.

I found my way into Shorty’s once again and at the same bar I excitedly ordered the same Atomic Chicken Fingers and I was ready to pick up where I had left off. But one bite in and I realized something had changed.

And it wasn’t the chicken fingers.

I’d always heard you can’t go home again. I understood that to mean time inevitably changes what home had always been. What was simply no longer existed as it was. But at the bar, I realized the only thing that had changed was me. I couldn’t go back to what was because I was no longer who I was. It wasn’t the food. It wasn’t the bar.

It was me.

I outgrew the memories.

I was the reason why I couldn’t go “home” again.

There is a perceived comfort of going home again, even if home wasn’t a very comfortable place to be. But it’s familiar, predictable, and known which tempts us to want to relive and cling to and even slightly revise the narrative to accommodate what we may have wished home actually was.

But you can’t really go back because you’re no longer who you were when you were originally there.

I appreciate all the homes I can never go home to again. The physical and the emotional. They were important parts of who I was, foundational building blocks of who I am. But who I will become? That needs me to allow myself to outgrow myself, to not let the lure of the certainty of the past prevent me from moving forward into the uncertainty of the future.

The past had its place, but it’s no place to live. It served its purpose, it was an important teacher, but holding on to our yesterdays weakens our grip on our tomorrows.

When we create an emotionally clear space to grow, it’s likely we will do so.

Photo by Victor Bouton on Unsplash

Things Don’t Last Forever On Their Own

I guess it was inevitable. But it didn’t have to be.

All of my life that barn was there. Until it wasn’t. A recent heavy wet snow proved too much for its weakened structure, slowly and consistently compromised by years of neglect to a point where it probably wasn’t worth the time and effort to save it.

Its demise seemed subtly unintentional. It was built to last, a solid foundation of granite supporting its timber frame posts and beams. It should have lasted forever.

But things usually don’t last forever on their own.

The rubble of the now-fallen barn offered me a stark reminder that the majestic things we’ve built in our own lives need the consistency of regular maintenance and pro-active care if we want them to last. Friendships, relationships, our health, and our emotional well being may all be built upon solid foundations, but indifference and complacency will surely weaken their structure, rendering them vulnerable and exposed to the inevitable storms life brings upon us.

If it’s worth saving, know it’s not going to save itself.

Photo by Chris Riggs on Unsplash

The Only Place I Am Is There

“One time, one meeting.”

It was mesmerizing. The color. The lines. The contrast. It was one of those photos I wish I had taken myself. But I didn’t need to own it to be able to fully enjoy it.

I just needed to see it.

Quite often I find myself alone in nature. A short hike though the woods, a long walk on a winter’s beach. The isolation is restorative and at some point I will inevitably attempt to capture the beauty of the natural world surrounding me in a photograph.

Looking through the view finder takes me to a place I’ve spent much of my life trying to find. The present moment. In the view finder a moment is frozen. I scan everything before pressing the button. The lines, the light, the color, the texture, the noise. Every detail in front of me is seen and assessed. I can adjust or decide to capture it exactly as it is. But in that moment, the only place I am is there.

When you discover the present moment you also discover how fleeting it is.

“Ichigo ichie” is a Japanese expression often translated to mean “one time, one meeting”. This and every moment is a singular moment in time. It cannot be relived exactly as it was. Therein lies its Continue reading “The Only Place I Am Is There” →

Redirecting The Momentum Of Thought

The crew aimed their cannon at the top of the mountain. After a few minor adjustments, the trigger was pulled and the artillery shell landed in the deep snow.

Avalanche.

It started slowly, the initial subtle movement gaining velocity and momentum as the snow intensified its descent as it violently crashed down the mountain.

Reminds me of how my thoughts can work at times. Especially when the thoughts turn negative.

Sometimes one initial impact of negativity creates a downward spiral of more negativity cascading through my mind. A mental avalanche of sorts, gaining velocity and momentum as those unwanted thoughts crash down relentlessly through my head.

I’m no expert in physics, but I do understand the power of momentum. How life tends to create more of what you’re experiencing and expecting, even if you don’t want it.

I’ve gotten good at noticing where my emotional momentum is taking me. I can feel when I’m caught up in my own avalanche of negativity, anxiety, and doubt. Left unabated, the momentum of my thoughts intensifies. But noticing when I’m stuck in an avalanche is my first step of getting out of it.

Awareness is a super power. Knowing where I am allows me to create a plan to get me where I want to be. My thoughts will go where they will go, but I get to decide if a will allow them to keep me there. At times I need to give myself some time to process the negativity, anxiety, and doubt. Just give it a safe non-judgmental space to be seen and heard. To slow the momentum.

Then decide where I want to go from there.

We have the freedom to think what we want to think. We have the freedom to be empowered by our thoughts. We have the power to reframe any situation we find ourselves in.

We have the power to redirect our emotional momentum.

Just because I’m stuck doesn’t mean I have to stay stuck.

During an avalanche of negativity, anxiety, and doubt, we are the only one who can pull us to safety.

Photo by Nicolas Cool on Unsplash

The Peace Is Well Worth The Pain

“Art should provoke, disturb, arouse our emotions, expand our sympathies in directions we may not anticipate and may not even wish.” – Joyce Carol Oates

It’s one of my favorite photos.

And it annoys the hell out of me.

I took the photo a couple of years ago at a local park, an overhead view of a snow covered swing seat I noticed in the playground. It’s a black and white image creating a beautiful contrast between the whiteness of the snow and the darkness of the outline of the seat and the chains holding it up. It’s stark, it’s simple, yet each time I look at the photo I wish it was different than it was. The seat is slightly askew, and the two chains rising up from the seat stretching to the edge of the photo are annoyingly asymmetrical.

Even though the photo is beautiful, I instead look beyond its beauty and focus on the flaws only I can see, leaving me provoked and disturbed in the process.

I’ve never had much success arguing with reality, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

Life gives us plenty of opportunities to argue with it, if we choose to, to be provoked and disturbed wishing people, situations, and circumstances were different and more aligned with Continue reading “The Peace Is Well Worth The Pain” →

If Water Was Time

As a kid, you never thought about how much water was in the glass. You just drank from it. Never worried if you spilled or wasted any of it. There was always more. The supply was abundant and seemingly infinite.

I’ve never been concerned whether my glass was half full or half empty. I just wanted to know how much was in the glass. If water was time, at my age I know most of the water in the glass of my life has already been consumed. And with that awareness, I’ve become much more intentional when taking sips of time from the glass of my life.

The circle has gotten smaller, the superficial has been discarded, the drama gets left behind, creating space for depth, substance, purpose, and expression.

I’ve become extremely protective of that space.

We really never know how much is left in the glass, do we?

I don’t intend on wasting a single drop.

Photo by Paul Lichtblau on Unsplash

Good Enough Seldom Is

With clarity and conviction in her voice I could tell she was a woman who knew what she wanted.

“Margherita pizza, cooked well done, extra basil.”

Yet when the pizza arrived, it wasn’t done exactly the way she wanted it done. After some initial griping to the other guests at the table about what was served to her, she quietly consumed her undercooked, slightly basil’d pizza, accepting less than what she wanted with every bite.

Why is it that we are so willing to accept less than what we know we want for ourselves?

Sometimes we settle because habitually we’ve always settled. We’ve been conditioned to settle because it’s always been easier and safer to accept less instead of fighting for what we know we want and deserve. Sometimes we don’t ask for what we want for fear of losing what we Continue reading “Good Enough Seldom Is” →

Embracing The Darkness

It’s here and it doesn’t care if I don’t like it.

The end of Daylight Savings Time gives me one extra hour of light in exchange for a season of increased darkness. That’s not a deal I would have made, but that’s the deal we get here in the Northern Hemisphere each November.

The older I get the more I think I’m solar powered. Daylight is a fuel source, and for the next few months that source will be in shorter supply.

The world always gives us the choice to embrace or resist what we see in front of us. Resisting What Is inevitably proves to be futile, embracing What Is doesn’t mean you actually like it.

The darkness is here and I get to decide what I am willing to do with it.

Most of my significant growth has come when I’ve embraced the darkness, of accepting the unlikable situations I’ve found myself in. In that darkness I’ve learned how I respond to the darkness around me. Frustration, patience, resilience, trust, anger…a full buffet of possible emotional reactions as I process and deal with the things I really don’t want to deal with.

My reactions don’t change the reality. My reactions show me how I’m dealing with it.

I don’t purposefully seek out darkness. It does have a way of finding me, though. And when it does find me I know as a human there is no one perfect response.

But my best response starts with accepting What Is, embracing even the darkness, and allowing myself to move forward toward the light.

Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash

Peter Mis LivingHalfFull.com

Lessons From A Life Unfolding

Tag: awareness