On November 1st, I began writing in a new journal. It was my 65th birthday. In that entry I wondered what might this number mean for my writing? More depth? Expanding reality? Ever closer movement into the walk with simplicity and love and contemplation? I hope yes to each question, and more.

Withdraw to Give Way
“Commitment to healing oneself and making a commitment to liberation for self, others, and the world is an essential part of spiritual transformation.” —Michael Lerner

While I may not feel it, I know my work as Coach of authentic confidence has been about spiritual transformation; for myself, others, and therefore for, and in, the world through those individuals with whom I’ve had the privilege to work. What will this year bring in light of this work? I don’t know. As this is the year of my official, full retirement (according to government and societal norms), at least I can know a bit more freedom with what can possibly come this way. And, grateful I will receive.

In one way, 65 was a long time coming. Yet, in another view, it got here far too fast. But it’s here, this number, this thing known as sixty-five; with all its implications and societal assumptions. What shall I do with it? What might I allow? I suppose I’m going to find out, one moment at a time. I am determined to learn to be more present, in the presence.

In the peace of this frosty
November morning light,
consciously I keep a commitment;
to presently sit in grace,
with gracious heart.
Mindful am I, at this age,
of journeying, and more
present I’ve become to
the traveling itself, in
grace and gratitude allowing
a pure light on remembering;
for what was, thankfulness
for what is, gratitude.

It has been six months since my last essay. This is the longest period I’ve gone between compositions in over ten years. Yet, I know that writing is not done with me. Part of the allure to composing this particular essay has to do with this being, and turning, 65. I need to explore something I’ve been feeling at this turning; a fresh and powerful permission. I need to get a better understanding through expression, and go from there. Sounds like writing.

Still I wonder if there’s much left for me in this work. Well, not really. Here’s what I mean: I find myself in a sort of withdrawing mode—I’ve been here before due to frustration and feeling ignored. But this is different. To be blunt, I just want to be left alone … and, not really.

I no longer have energy for all the exposure that we now seem to believe is all important; LinkedIn®, Twitter®, Facebook®, Instagram®, etc. Even the email messages I’ve been good at sending to keep top-of-mind status with past clients have dropped off the radar. But I still love each Coaching session and each individual in each of those sessions. So, whatever is left for me to do, or whatever is next for me to do, will present itself to me. I trust.

The Soul Hears
In my book, Participation: Falling in Love with Reality, I defined contemplation as “Compassion for oneself and all as one.” I know two forces for this participation. They are Trueness and Forgiveness. For many years I’ve contemplated the journey to the true self, a journey to simplicity and truth of what has always been present; one’s Trueness. Is the true self complex or simple? Is it complicated or easily understood? Here’s what I do know; we tend to make most everything in life and living too hard, and this brings me to total forgiveness.

Forgive and Forget:
Forgetting what lies behind.
Forgive and Remember:
Letting go while also knowing it all belongs to reality, the reality of the unfoldment of now.
Forgive and Act:
With all knowledge in the fullness of now, acting in and with love, always.

“Let love alone speak …” — Thomas Keating

I’ve always been comfortable in and with silence. Now, in these days of life, I desire silence more than ever. For it is only silence that speaks clearly. And, it must be that it is in silence where love is best heard. For only in silence can one remain still long enough to listen. In such stillness listening is active in its purest sense. The soul hears.

And now a time, a presence
filled with less talk, less words,
trusting silence, imbued
by love, to speak volumes
—from poem, Voluminous Silence

In the midst of this all, I am reminded that my most virulent anger has always been directed at myself. So, I must truly learn to act from self-compassion. So I commit to the steadiness, the silent stability, and power of let love alone speak.

“Surrender to the unknown marks the great transitions of the spiritual journey. On the brink of each new breakthrough there is a crisis of trust and love.” —Thomas Keating

Clearly I now know that I must release everyone from my selfish (and culturally learned) Pet Peeves. I must completely free myself from the false self’s expectations; requirements placed on self and others that don’t mean one damn thing. Expectations are of no value. Fr. Richard Rohr says that expectations are simply disappointments waiting to happen. Several years ago I watched an interview with Drew Barrymore where she said that expectation was the mother of deformity.

It just may be that I am now ready to not care, to truly be free to walk slowly and steadily, to speak thoughtfully only, and to be so comfortable with silence that I seek it and cherish its empowering presence.

“Or, be choked in the sediment of society, so tired of the world, here will your hard doubts disappear, your carnal incrustations melt off, and your soul breathe deep and free in God’s shoreless atmosphere of beauty and love.” —John Muir

What Remains
On a recent trip to our state’s coastline with the Gulf of Mexico, I sat one morning in the light of a wonderful sunrise and journaled. I wondered at the Live Oak tree
between me and the rising sun. How old it must be. How it enhanced the view. The memories it could share. I’m not as old, and I know not as wise, but such a tree encourages my own sharing from the experience of years banked in my memories. Whether or not I may be able to immediately recall one, each memory is there waiting to be used for good in this world. This I must remember.

Like a treasured photo or painting, memories tend to fade, especially when consistently exposed to the direct light of life and living. While there occasionally may be a way to enhance a memory, one can always hope that, although faded, what remains visible is the good and right.

Is the work done? Is the work done with me? Am I done with the work? If it is not done with me, or I it, then what is it? What does it become? What must it become? I capture this questioning from some recent walks. The only answer that has come to me so far says that the work must care for itself, that I must care for myself, and the two may meet again somewhere down the path.

Notes:

Brunson, Jeff. The World Needs You: Selected Verse−Contemplation, Poetry, Love. Ohio: Soul Publishing Group, 2017. (Poem, P. 75)

Keating, Thomas. The Daily Reader for Contemplative Living: Excerpts from the Works of Father Thomas Keating, O.C.S.O. (compiled by S. Stephanie Iachetta). New York: Continuum, 2007.

Highland, Chris. Meditations of John Muir: Nature’s Temple. California: Wilderness Press, 2001. (p., 77, Soul Breathe Deep)