Tag Archives: Love

Grace: A Participation Essay

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One Word.
Beginning each essay around one word has been my way of seeding the thoughts—sparking the contemplation required for my style of processing and ultimately getting it together to do this thing called writing. Select any one essay, with any one word associated, and I can guarantee one thing, I am most likely not very qualified to write about it; but I do anyway.

In the essay entitled Compassion, I wrote about three masters of unconditional love; Snoopy, Freckles, and BB. At that time, BB, our daughter’s Yorkie Terrier, was 13. That was four years ago. He left us in his 17th year. Once his mom found her own house, he still stayed with us during her work day. He and I loved to watch Drew Carey on The Price is Right (CBS). BB’s physical condition had come to the point where he could not be left alone. If his back legs gave way, he couldn’t get back up by himself. And every time I picked him up, I would get a kiss. But at the end, his heart weakened and breathing had become labored. Even though our days had become restrictive for his care, I miss him so much. The Price is Right just ain’t the same. Sorry Drew.

The unconditional love of a dog is one fine way of being known by grace.

Grace, a Way of Being
As Parker J. Palmer has written on many occasions, we will have our heart broken. He encourages the individual to not allow the heart to break apart, but embrace that it has broken open. What I hear in there is that broken open can now allow more to come into our heart, into the core of our being.

Four weeks after the heartbreaking goodbye with BB, grace appeared to our daughter. Macy came to live with her. She is an 11 year old, full of energy, sweet and cuddly Yorkie. Macy’s owner passed away when Macy was about 6. She went to live with Teresa (daughter of owner) and family, including big dogs and horses. For some time, Teresa kept saying to Anna that Macy should come and live with her. Of course Anna was very dedicated to BB’s needs and last years. Teresa delivered Macy and her belongings on Anna’s birthday, saying it was okay to be on a trial basis. It was love at first sight—trial over.

When I was a very young man, my maternal grandfather, as he met the end of his life, said to me that he had no regrets. I determined to be able to say that in my later years. This year, I hit the ripe age of 70 and I have to be honest, I do have a few regrets. Recently one of those regrets came to the surface—that I did not find a way to pursue Veterinary Medicine. The lack of money stopped this aim in my sophomore year in college. I love creation and the Creator’s creatures. If you listen, creation and the creatures speak to us about a Oneness that is very real with The Mother—this wonderful earth, and throughout the universe.

At the same time, I don’t regret my settling (maybe) for a degree in Accounting; it has served me well. This knowledge and experience provided me opportunities of connection and camaraderie that I treasure. Most of it just memories now—remembered in the stories I tell when needed. Maybe I’m ever more free to love creation, and from the love returned to me from same, love others. But I currently feel the confrontation of tangible love and political sensibilities.

Conscious Oneness
On November 5th of this birthday year, my country, by majority, chose clearly to move further down the path of violence and hate. I’m afraid I will carry this deep disgust and disappointment in my spirit for the remainder of my life. My daily walks since have been challenging; meditation circumvented by the processing of disbelieving anger. Normally I’m rather consistent with being with nature and the oneness of all creation as I walk. As I say, this has been a struggle, but on November 11, something happened—something difficult to describe. But here, I try.

It is not uncommon on my walks to see deer. There is one deer in particular that I’ve labeled as “my girlfriend”—a lovely doe who never seems disturbed by my presence. While others that may be near raise the white flag of tail and bound into the trees, she stays and just looks at me, and often will simply go about grazing on grass as before I arrived. On the 11th, it had been quite a while since I’d seen her. Have you ever had the feeling that someone is looking at you, or that there’s the presence of another suddenly close by? It’s the feeling I get just before seeing her—and let’s be clear, she always knows I’m there before I see her.

On the morning of the 11th, the feeling of presence was abrupt. I had been walking along with my hands clasped together behind me, making my heart center very open, a physical posture not normal to me. I stopped cold in my tracks, looked to my left into the trees, and there she was, those beautiful eyes gazing intently, her ears perked, and not a single movement. As usual I spoke to her, reminding her of her beauty and sweet spirit. I had the feeling she was not alone, but the Creator’s camouflage made it hard to determine any others; I would not have even seen her but for the power of her uniqueness.

I decided to leave her to her purpose for the morning, took a few steps and found myself stopped again and looking right back to where she was. She had not moved and I then saw the other two, their eyes gazing intently and ears perked just like her. It was if all three were not real. Then it happened. My hands were still at my back and my center exposed, when directly from the three some form of energy hit me square in my center. Everything I’d been mentally processing left me, I began to breathe deep breaths, and my eyes filled with tears. After a few moments all I could think, and say, was Thanks. I continued on my walk and about 2 or 3 minutes later felt it all over again.

I honestly do not know what I experienced, but it was real—a tangible communication gifted to me directly from these three creatures. It was if she were three in one, one in three, and by such grace I was gifted this oneness. As the hours went by, I found myself wondering if something had been given to me or had something been taken away from me. Or could it be both?

Love is the Answer
Somewhere along the way with writing, I talked about my writing in coffee shops. As a Coach, being an excellent listener was the skill (and care) that made me into a Coach many years ago. However, I still listen in those coffee shops, hearing anything said around me; it drives me nuts—which is why I listen to music from my phone as I write. And many times, to get it all flowing, I listen to Todd Rundgren’s Love is the Answer. I love this song for many reasons, but mostly because it fires up my voice in the writing.

And so now I’m faced with re-firing my voice in the world—in a world where I am increasingly tempted to give up hope and at the same time determined to hope against hope. So I pray—without words—that when tempted to give up, my doe friend-girl will continue to stop me in my tracks, Macy will continue to wriggle with excitement when she sees me and continue to enjoy our rides together, and lick my hand and neck incessantly. It will be the creatures and creation, without a shadow of a doubt, that keep me going.

There is no other way. It cannot be done with hatred. It can only be done by people who have compassion and awareness of their own lives in the light of creation.
—James Lawson

So let us one-by-one detach from any and all we may have been taught that allows any form of violence in thought, talk, or task. May we forgive ourselves, and one another, for individual and collective complicity in this hateful flow.

I’m grappling with the reality that I may not live to see this prayer answered in a collective realm. But maybe such prayer breathed is the very essence of hope against hope for me as an individual on this earth treasure.

The soul does not attach, nor does it hate; it desires and loves and lets go.
—Fr. Richard Rohr

The First Shall be Last

For way too long, and since it first began,
to put oneself above another man.
In this country, free as we say,
we put our differences on display.

Holy seemed, to put America first,
only to present ourselves at our worst.
And once again, now disguised as maga,
we continue the disgusting saga.

Innocent are almost none
and I not the least of one.

Symbols of hate,
stands you’ve been given.
The same dark slate,
I too have striven!

Love’s opposite is not hate,
its contrary is fear brutal.
To hate a deadly state,
to love a state fruitful.

Fear to rid, love to ride,
on a wave of spirit
we must learn to abide.

History, knowledge lacking,
not what sets us to the brink.
It is learning not backing
one’s ability to think.

So hate won’t
make America great again.
So please don’t
make America hate again.

So first is not the path to great,
nor is hate the patriots way.
For only love will clear the slate,
and bring us to a better day.

From here, where do we go?
For me, now, all I know,
I shall quietly proceed.
Relishing silence indeed.

For love is our destiny,
compassion our call,
charity our legacy,
and justice for all.

Notes & Influences:

Palmer, Parker J. Healing the Heart of Democracy: The Courage to Create a Politics Worthy of the Human Spirit. Hoboken: John Wiley & Sons, 2024

Rundgren, Todd. Love is the Answer. Album: Oops! Wrong Planet, 1977.

Lawson Jr., James M. Revolutionary Nonviolence: Organizing for Freedom. Oakland: University of California Press, 2022.

Rohr, Fr. Richard. Daily Meditations: The Grace of Powerlessness. Center for Action and Contemplation, July 15, 2024.

(The poem, The First Shall be Last, was written in early 2021 and not published, or shared, until now.)

Return: A Participation Essay

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After my last essay fifteen months prior, I began working on this. Basically the only thing produced—properly composed—in this time span was the title and the poem at the end. What does return mean? My dear friend Mayra says it well:

“… I want to share some information regarding the larger spiritual transformation that’s upon us—and how this will radically alter how you think, as well as naturally expand your ability to operate from love (not fear).” —Mayra Porrata

From love, not fear. And this was our beginning, your beginning. Our only hope, for anything good, is a return to love. As Mayra makes clear in this newsletter issue, the return is a transition that will include pain, disorienting spans of time, and grief. It should include these things. The return must be navigated intentionally with these things.

Return home to the You that has been since the beginning.

Pure Presence (Going Home)
All my life, here and there, I’ve heard it said, “You can’t go home again.” I’ve assumed this means that if you return it won’t be the same home you left. In that sense I would have to agree. I’ve gone home to my claimed hometown more than once. And yes, a lot changed. But was it enough change? Was it the right change?

A return to the love from which you came is a return home. It may be the only going home where one can find all just as it was left. Sit with that for a bit.

My journey back home, my return to love, began when we left that geographical home. I was 36. We lived away for 29 years, and in that span new challenges in my work, fresh experiences, and most of all, beautifully diverse interactions and relationships took hold on my seeing.

Cultural conditioning began to unravel as my view expanded beyond myopic ways of looking at many wide-ranging subjects. While some of this was indeed freeing, I would be a liar if I said some of this was not also threatening. Of course the only thing in danger were old beliefs serving nothing of value, narcissism, an ego fighting for its existence, and fear-driven expectations blocking truth.

“Isn’t this the 21st Century?” (A Violent Flow)
Watching the news about Putin’s violence and the invasion of Ukraine, I saw a brief interview of a young Ukrainian woman. It was her incredible question that I cannot get out of my head and heart; “Isn’t this the 21st Century?” Yes, have we learned nothing? Unfortunately, it would seem so.

This reminds me of something I wrote in the Essay on Compassion:

Becky and I were coming home from a pandemic-get-out-of-the-house outing, driving home via the beautiful Natchez Trace that runs right by our neighborhood. I was looking straight ahead as I drove, seeing a paved Parkway curving through lovely land and beautiful trees declaring the season. It occurred to me all this was built, and made, on a sphere suspended in the space of a galaxy, itself spinning and moving within a great Universe. Followed by a thought of how stupid we as humans behave on this tiny round speck in a grand Universe — a magnificent, sprawling territory of infinite possibility; possibility squandered by our lack of ability to see miraculous beauty and endless opportunity.

And yet we still ‘war’ and squander opportunity to be at peace with each other.

My Return to the Mother
June 2005 is the month I’ve labeled as my spiritual breakdown; an angry rant seemingly against everything I’d been taught. Truthfully, not quite everything. But honestly, a whole lot I’d been led to believe within a compromised and narrow understanding of Christianity. Blessedly for me, and those served through my work, we have a wise and wonderful friend. Beth is not just a wonderful friend but also a loving pastor. In that very month of June, she shared with me some reading to console me in my broken state. As my wife once said to one of my employees, “Jeff doesn’t read. He studies.”

In my contemplative studies of the past 17 years I’ve been very mindful of what I’ve come to believe is the ‘sin’ of the world, violence. And thanks to some of those I’ve studied, like John Dominic Crossan, I’ve become very conscious of the flow of this sin: Ideological violence—Rhetorical violence—Physical violence. If one uses God to justify violence—be it ideological, rhetorical, or physical—then that one doesn’t worship God, that one uses a god he’s created to serve his own ignorant, narcissistic means.

If one prescribes to one particular religion, or one way to worship, because it justifies the exclusion of others, then this one doesn’t understand religion at all. While religion has been used to control, manipulate, and keep others within borders (real or perceived), true religion is based on inclusion and bringing together.

And if you’re a Christian, as I remain with great grieving difficulty, and you support hate, war, and any other form of violence, then you do so in direct opposition to Jesus who came to show us our freedom in love. While it would be convenient to justify myself by placing blame on something, or some others, for my own complicity in violence—be it in thought, word, or deed—that would only deepen the false protection in the Cult of Innocence (see Brian Mclauren’s book in Notes & Influences).

When the beginning is right, the rest is made considerably easier. —Richard Rohr

So as I’ve deeply considered the love from which I came, I’ve been recalling many scenes from my life; the beautiful ones always containing my organic devotion to nature. I walk every day that I possibly can, and when I can, I hike for miles in the woods along the Natchez Trace Parkway. When living in Northeast Tennessee, Becky and I hiked stunning trails in the Tennessee, Virginia, and North Carolina mountains. I fly fished the many streams and rivers. Most every day that I walk I see in my mind and heart the wonderful pasture sloping gently upward behind our house when I was a child on that dairy farm. While the world may be frustrating for all and dangerous for many, I love the Earth. I love the Mother.

So I’ve decided to return to the Mother to know and be one with all that is, that was created as Good. For my life & living in the world, I’m navigating back to the beginning; a child who understood Earth’s goodness and was shown the loving, non-violent, unlimited inclusive ways of Jesus.

Mississippi 

Summer cicadas
a chorus pass
tree to tree
In June
it’s rehearsal
by July
it’s performance
in August
it’s celebration

And so it goes
beauty
one form or another
available
on what I choose
to behold

Attention I do pay
it’s the remuneration
of presence

The pottery of presence
is still being purified
in the furnace fire
of suffering, grief, joy

To a land
one can belong
selected it seems
from the beginning

And those in the land
can be led awry
by a narrative false
away from the story true

Ignorance blissful
I now doubt
’tis just ignorance

Stands taken
on ground unreal
blind inhabitants
dangerous to all

With guilt I must release
the stupid complicity
and opinions misleading
in directions away from truth

This particular land cares not
it is one with the Mother
one with each of us

This particular land
a name given
from a great flow
and a divine, earthly people

This illustrious home
where Mississippi Kites
fly high
beauty and grace
demonstrably abound
patiently soaring far
above who we think
we are

So, a choral presentation
beautiful song without words
a most meaningful verse
the golden in silence

Notes & Influences:

Porrata, Mayra. TheFlourishingWay.com – Ohio: Copyright © 2022 Mayra Porrata, LLC. (You, only better! Newsletter, Issue #13)

Rohr, Richard. Center for Action and Contemplation

Crossan, John Dominic. How to Read the Bible and Still Be a Christian: Struggling with Divine Violence from Genesis through Revelation. New York: Harper Collins, 2015.

McLauren, Brian. Do I Stay Christian?: A Guide For The Doubters, The Disappointed, And The Disillusioned. New York: St. Martin’s Essentials, 2022.

Moore, Osheta. Dear White Peacemakers: Dismantling Racism With Grace And Grit. Harrisonburg, Virginia: Herald Press, 2021.

Postlude (if you’re interested):

This is how I say what we know as The Lord’s Prayer (thanks to my study with John Dominic Crossan, and of course the likes of Fr. Rohr, Fr. Green, Fr. Keating, etc.). Here is that prayer with my mind/heart knowing in parenthesis:

Our Father
(Householder of Earth — to me, Mother and Father)
who art in heaven
(Jesus’ message is that the Kingdom of God/Heaven is already here)
Hallowed be thy Name
(Our mere breath in and out speaks this unspeakable name – YaHWeH)
Thy Kingdom come
(Distributive Justice and Restorative Righteousness—earth belongs equally to all, no matter what)
Thy will be done
(Love, pure and simple)
As in Heaven, so on earth
(Heaven is ours to live, Now)
Give us this day our daily bread
(In this Kingdom, this earth, and in a community of Love, we must want/worry not) (The Earth, and all on it, is not Rome’s, it is God’s)
And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors
(Forgiveness of debt was a command in Judaism—the land is God’s—this had nothing to do with sin … rather, Jubilee years)
And lead us not into temptation
(Keep us from counter violence)
But deliver us from evil
(Violence IS the evil; and the flow is Ideological Violence to Rhetorical Violence to Physical Violence)
For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, for ever.
Amen

 

Pianissimo: A Participation Essay

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Four years my senior, my brother was very athletic and team oriented as he navigated his school years. I was not. He played virtually every sport offered and available, and was good at each one. At some point along the way he decided to be musical as well. That, however, quickly ended with a trumpet stored away in a closet. When I entered junior high our dad came to me and said, “You’re going to take band, and you’re going to play the trumpet.” He pulled the quieted instrument out of the closet and handed it to me.

So I played trumpet in the band throughout my junior high and high school years. I remain grateful for the opportunity. Music was something I enjoyed, the playing of it. I loved to play new pieces placed in front of me as part of sight-reading exercises. While I may not have realized it then, I now know those times of intense exercises as practice in being present with the piece and navigating with the guides of the musical terms placed throughout.

Navigating
Pianissimo is a dynamic term in a score of music instructing the musician to play softly and proceed quietly. Yes, there are many other such musical terms while navigating a scored piece, but this one has always stood out for me. In a particularly well written score, I always loved the change toward soft and quiet that highlighted the previously stronger play or the section about to follow. It was pianissimo that set up my learning to use silence and quiet in my work as a salesman, coach, and consultant. And now, silence continues to implore me to walk more softly and proceed through the quiet of spirit.

On morning meditative walks, I’ve been cycling through thoughts about work, both from the past and into the future. And there lies the rub; the future. My last coaching session was in August of the year prior. I entered that year with only a handful of sessions to complete, work that had begun in the year before. I backed away from pursuing new gigs as COVID-19 began its worldwide threat. So, Retired? It would appear so.

Almost a year after the beginning of the pandemic, I was compelled to pick up, once again, David Whyte’s, The Heart Aroused: Poetry and Preservation of the Soul in Corporate America. After reading chapter one I realized I didn’t pick it up to seek guidance on the future, but to better honor the past.

“Looking over the centuries of human struggle commemorated in poetry, a man or woman often seems to begin the journey to soul recovery in this very lonely place of self-assessment. The uninitiated might call it depression.” — David Whyte

Out of retired boredom, I suppose, I’m on the board of our homeowner’s association. I chair its maintenance committee. I also led the search for a new maintenance supervisor for the buildings and the grounds. A perfect fit was found in a young man who grew up in the neighborhood. As part of his on-boarding, we were able to keep the retiring supervisor on part time for the next year. Within the new supervisor’s first three months, there was a particular issue that would set up an important conversation.

A resident asked for a tree on common ground (that the HOA maintains) to be removed. The tree was old, damaged, with limbs threatening the resident’s home. I told the new supervisor to bring in our outside tree people to remove it. The retiring employee talked him into doing it themselves. The home was damaged. Our new supervisor was not happy. So when he and I had a chance to talk, I told him that we live and learn, and I talked about transition; how our former supervisor was in transition to retirement—a challenge I perfectly understood—and how he also was in transition. Seven years earlier he transitioned from college to his first job, where he was until coming to us when the organization he worked for closed. Now he was in yet another transition, and I challenged him to be more conscious in the navigation. 

Rhyme and Recovery
Pianissimo is about transitioning. Too often, when something ends, we rush into what it is we perceive as new. We are ready to move on, to get on with it. We are smart, right? We should know what to do, especially if we are older and more experienced.

Trueness. Such was my work for the past 20 years, maybe longer. Some days I miss the work around this purpose of Trueness that pulled and pushed me forward. But the work of Trueness in me still goes on, and I suppose it will for the remainder of my days. As I’m rounding through all this thinking about work, I know I’m only a couple of steps away from declaring depression. But it really doesn’t feel like depression (coming from someone who has been there). It simply feels empty.

I know I’ve had a good run at work, a run with many different experiences. I’ve had varying and diverse experience with relationships along the way; some close (at least for a time) and some not so close, but meaningful nonetheless. I’ve had a positive impact on many an individual (I also know I stumbled relationally now and then). And I realize work has been instrumental in my full evolution, allowing learning all along the way. I’ve navigated one transition then another.

The path toward Sage
Time I cannot stop
Paused, I can make it feel so

But important it is
To know time
Not as an enemy
But a friend

For in time
There is experience
The building of knowledge

In a series of novels I read, there is an old, wise Native American named Henry. I long to be like him. My hope for quiet, steady days is really desire for a quiet, steady spirit within myself; to move among my days remaining as slowly, deliberately, kindly, gently, and most of all, lovingly as the fictional Henry.

In my work as a coach I know I became, for some, a sage; at least of sorts. But what about now? Questions about work I keep asking. Is there more work for me to do? Is there something left of this call that guided me for many years? This sense, maybe even desire, I have of a sage; what do I do with it? Am I being called into a new work? A new level of work? Is it a call and movement into deeper participation? I’m not sure of much right now. Or am I?

It’s difficult recovering from a calling and a career. I think they call this retirement. I think this is known as transition.

Following is a poem with rhyme. I don’t normally write such, as free verse seems to be my better fare. Rhyming often feels forced. But this one seemed to need rhyme to speak properly, or maybe I needed the work in finding rhyme and rhythm as the poem worked on me. It would seem so.

The Path’s Score

Life’s score, now at a place
deep within instructed.
Play at a calmer pace
freedom, less conducted.

Melody once sought
to purchase, once thought.
The play, now demands
calmness in commands.

Written in the score
the values implore,
and spirit proceeds.
And my soul agrees.

It is time for meaning
in everything that’s done
acts of love, redeeming.
Believing all, as one.

All As One
Dan, my father-in-law, can do anything. Literally, in my view, he can do anything. I’ve seen it; welding, refrigeration, electrical wiring, and especially the elite woodwork of a craftsman. He can do it all, all self-taught. I’ve known and watched him for 47 years now. Over the years I’ve not only watched him, but been a helper on many occasions. And throughout all the work, we’ve shared observations, and stories. He is now 88 and I’m 66, and recently he shared a story that I couldn’t believe I’d not previously heard.

My wife’s parents live outside the city of Vicksburg, Mississippi. It is known as the bluff city, hilly with, what we know as, gullies (mountain areas have valleys, hilly areas have gullies). One day, many years ago, he came home from his work at the International Paper Company, where he performed many of his diverse, skilled miracles. The outside edge of their garage was a shear drop of at least six feet. The siding of the garage rested on the ledge of the concrete footing, and on that ledge was a large dog. The dog had somehow managed to get onto that footing and obviously couldn’t get down. He perched there shaking like a leaf, terrified.

Dan went and got a board from his lumber stack, placed it at the ledge so the dog could have a path to safely come down, which he did. Upon hitting the solid ground, he trotted off down the road. Dan headed to the backyard on normal after work business. He heard something behind him, and turned to find the dog had returned. The dog simply stood on his back legs and placed his front ones on my dad’s chest—as if to say, Thank you. And once again trotted off home.

Notes:

Whyte, David. The Heart Aroused: Poetry and the Preservation of the Soul in Corporate America. New York: Doubleday, 1994.

Krueger, William Kent. The Cork O’Conner series. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2009-2021.

Work: A Participation Essay

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In the 5thgrade I wrote an essay entitled, The Therapy of Work. I suppose the commitment to do my part in influencing our places of work to be more animated with love, abundance, and freedom goes back a few years. Many years later my Mom gave me a box packed with artwork I had done through my growing years. In the box was the composition.

As I set out to write an essay on Love, I had every intention of letting the words find me, lead me actually, and guide me deep into self where I know love began for me. And that the words did. Surprisingly however, I found myself back again reflecting from the experience of this work I do, and in full truth, from the varying forms of work I’ve known for more years than I care to state. That 5th grade essay on work as therapy was either some form of youthful wisdom, or a cultural voice preparing me for life to come. It is most likely both.

Curse or Course?

I remember a time, when my journey with occupational activity was not going so well, when I developed a theology about work based on Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden. I determined, in relation to Adam, that work was the curse cast upon me; that this was the way it was supposed to be, and would remain so.

I certainly did not start out with this mindset, as when I was around 13 years of age I sold toys in the days before Christmas at the store my grandmother managed, or when at that age I ran my own lawn care service in my hometown. I don’t remember when I began to come out of the curse mindset, but I’m sure my evolving belief was driven by the survival instinct of soul. Why would anyone live under a curse when there was an option for freedom? Was it a choice between pessimism and optimism? Or was it a decision to act consciously and live within my own Trueness?

Thankfully yes, it was a choice in the forward course of optimism. And while unconscious and unaware at first, it was an outward decision to live within Trueness. But when composing an essay on Love, why did I write about work?

As a child I was very introverted, a combination of personality traits and chronic asthma limiting my exposure in the larger world. I spent a large quantity of time alone entertaining myself. Later offering my services of yard maintenance to neighbors began to teach me disciplined interaction with others as I built those working relationships. Then working at my grandmother’s store, selling to those shopping for children, opened me to a different form of relational transaction. It seems that maybe that essay in the 5th grade was not done with me.

And then there’s the challenge with love; the one that tells us how easy it is to love those who love us, who are easy to love. And that love is at its truest when we also love those who do not necessarily return love, or who at first, biased look don’t seem lovable. So maybe in my youth, work was a more open space for learning in this challenging course of love broadened.

Purpose and Work
Work is not just about a job; a set of responsibilities for which one is compensated from monetary resources. If one allows, it is a classroom of university proportions, providing the environment for learning and the field for application and tangible practice.

Later in my journey with work, as my accountabilities began to include direct leadership of others, I developed a theology to drive my methodology with which I would offer and provide an environment of optimism and forward progress. I would tell my people that, considering a normal full-time workweek in the U.S., and at least a bit of commute, we spend nearly two-thirds of our waking life at this thing called work. And because of this, I would ensure an environment supportive of individual fulfillment in the work and expect each one to take advantage of the consequent, personal opportunities.

Besides the fact that not everyone may feel it, I believe everyone needs to know purpose in the work. From my experience working with individuals to shed conscious light on core values, I’ve seen two basic camps when it comes to the value of purpose. There are those who when clear on vision and/or direction bring a natural propensity of purpose to the process of work before them. Then there are those who have an innate drive to more fully understand purpose as the motivation for any action. I warm at the fire of the latter.

“The modern world, with its prodigious growth of complexity, weighs incomparably more heavily upon the shoulders of our generation than did the ancient world upon the shoulders of our forebears. Have you never felt that this added load needs to be compensated for by an added passion, a new sense of purpose? To my mind, this is what is “providentially” arising to sustain our courage−the hope, the belief that some immense fulfillment lies ahead of us.” −Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Work: A Laboratory for Love
In the essay on Love I talked about the message I was about to send some of the individuals I’ve been privileged to work with through the last 17 years. I’m well into that process and hearing back from some of them as I write this essay. In each message I shared my hope of impact, that each one with whom I’ve worked has felt the power of desire and intent, their own desire and intent as a leader and what I have desired and intended for them from the beginning: that each one embrace the power of who they are as they lovingly lead others to their own authentic confidence, while acting on their own Trueness. And I certainly want to believe that my mission, to work with leaders like them for the sake of more love and abundance in the workplace, has helped them to make their impact.

Here is part of a response from one of the message recipients:

“When I put [him] in charge of his team, he asked me what he needed to succeed. I told him to work hard, to be disciplined and to bring passion to his work. I also told him to respect his people and to love his people. If he did that, I told him, your people will walk through fire for you. As I look back over my career and my life, I see that inherent truth with blinding clarity.” −Steve

Through the years, my evolved belief about work, and love for a work and love in the work, may be my own personal brand of optimism; a protective position pulling me out of the dark valleys and grounding me at the peaks, keeping me safe from the cliff edge of hubris. This I know; developing love in a work, seeing purpose in the energy expended, and learning what it looks like to love those with whom I’ve worked, has sustained and held me for many years.

So when writing the essay on Love, why did my words gravitate to the work experience? I’ve experienced great love throughout my personal life, knowing unconditional love from so many wonderful spirits. I entered the realm of work knowing the grace of what it means to be loved, and the enthusiasm from within that feeds on such graceful love. From early on then, I wanted to learn my place in the work world; learning to stand confidently in the bright blend of purpose and love. Through a purposeful, and then passionate, approach to work, I knew others simply needed my love.

Notes:

Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre.. The Future of Man. New York: Image Books-Doubleday, 1964.

Love: A Participation Essay

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In a recent visit with a dear friend, I shared my desire to offer something extra to those I’ve coached through the years. My friend asked me why I was considering this. After a few moments of stumbling around logical answers, I heard myself saying, I love them.

Because of the love I have for the individuals I coach, I want to continue to be available for them along their journey deeper into, and with, Trueness. The deep context of this work I do has driven me further into my own Trueness. Or is it better said that going deeper into my own Trueness has driven me further with this work? Whichever, I am recognizing a need to share, more often and ever more deeply, the abundance available through becoming aware of one’s rhythm; a life-giving cadence given since the beginning. 

This I know from my experience, if an individual acts from Trueness−living her or his own rhythm−then this person is acting from a unique brand of love. I teach rhythm to the individuals I coach as a way to teach love−love for your work and love in your work−and how such love is profitable, not a business strategy but a way of living Trueness, embracing the rhythm of you.

The True Self
Jim is both a technical expert in his field and a caring and present leader for those he leads, influences, and serves. People depend on him for clarity as they work together in creating a steady approach to accomplish common goals and tell a common story. As he leads them, here’s what they know for certain; he is committed to each one of them, attending to need and strengthening each person as she/he gives to and serves others in the work done.

Trueness is a word I use to encapsulate all I do within this work which has called me out. Trueness is also a way to summarize the expression, who you really are. What is the true self?  Sorry, but I’m not writing this to answer the question. As opposed to answering, it may be that we have to live this question individually. And living the question may be a life-long task.

Jim is driven by a commitment to process in a way that is both efficient and effective: efficient being about the work, and effective being about the people. In the present with his own unique experiences, how they’ve shaped him, and how he knows experience shapes others, he told me that happiness is something he understands better now. Yes, this reflects a level of maturity, but it also displays a depth of connection with his Trueness.

I write these essays not as an expert who has it all figured out. Quite the contrary. I write to actually attempt to grasp things; not grasp and hold on, but to hold things for a bit so I can then let go into the flow of reality. I turned sixty-four on my last birthday. I thought I’d have all this thoroughly figured out by now. I was wrong.

Only those who are totally
secure in their love
can live thus fully the
present moment.
-Thomas H. Green

Love Itself
I am neither qualified nor ready to write about this topic. Yet, I write about love consistently these days. But love itself, what does this mean? I want to become love itself. But what does this look like? At some inevitable juncture it has to look like who I really am. If we are made from love, then we are made of love. So why don’t we act like this is so all the time?

As I was thinking on how to describe what love itself might look like, Jim came to mind. In a recent conversation, I shared a basic principle about leadership and one’s growth and development as a leader. I had not thought about this principle in a long time: Whatever you desire to do for others, you must be able to do for yourself. Jim was referred to me because his boss understands this principle and wanted to give Jim the time and space to give to himself, selflessly. The time Jim is giving to himself, for his growth and development, is energy given for those he leads, influences, and serves. The strength of Jim’s voice is that of presence with another. And his time for himself is not selfish, but again, selfless; making himself better for others.

I met Jim when I was facilitating a leadership experience at his organization. During the lunch break he and I had some time one-on-one. I personally experienced his ability to be present with another. So when his boss mentioned he would like to consider Jim for my coaching program, I pushed forward at the chance to work with this individual and his brand of love.

To love, in all one says and does, is a privilege. It is a privilege because of what it brings to the one who loves. Allow me to make this personal, going from one to I. I love, do love, can love, only because I was first loved; from the beginning. There is great benefit and wonderful blessing in growing older; as long as I do not just get older but actually do grow older−grow in love, always!

The Flow Constant 

Love in the work,
work in the love,
and love works on me.

A quiet morning
and warm Spring rain
reminding of the obligation
to encourage true self,
allowing peace and quiet
at the center;
calmly pushing away
each unnecessary judgment.

This is love.
Quiet. Solid.
Steady and grounded in this Trueness,
it is a sure stand and steady walk;
it is this grace
given by love
of which we are part.

To place into words,
to define my Trueness,
what words might suffice?
Likely done already, this task
of defining self true,
work done in the very work
that called me out.

Yes, but maybe this work
only opens the door of consciousness.
So then, what does it look like
walking through, now enjoying
the deeper quiet, peace,
and love?

Maybe this walk is faith,
and maybe hope, leading
to the flow constant
of love.

Trueness is Love
That dear friend of mine called to check on me (his love in action). We talked about where I am with offering any kind of extended program to my coaching clients. I told him how my expression of love for those I’ve coached had moved my thoughts away from predetermined outcomes and distracting expectation and toward honest expression of the heart. I decided I wasn’t building a new program, I was simply acknowledging love and allowing it to guide me ever more clearly. Confirming my messaging moved me away from generic scripting toward individualized messages of love, a fresh commitment of my love in action.

When I approach things from my own Trueness, keeping my commitment to do what is good and right for me to do (and letting that go to do its thing), and doing this from a personal voice of Love and Encouragement, good things happen. I find myself worrying less about the outcomes, because the outcomes do take care of themselves. Letting go is not about a lack of caring, but simply about not having the need to grasp at things, in a manner where holding on is damaging to self and others. Letting go, we open the space for the true self and its love from the beginning.

When you finally commit to lead, influence, and serve from the rhythm of your Trueness, you can grasp the reality that there is no priority higher than that of your love. So maybe love itself begins within. Through such love, we become the love we’ve always been. This is Trueness. This is the true self.

Letting Go

Wisdom, she smiles.
Maybe even smirks.
The things we grasp,
so not worth the energy.

Let go.
Stop reaching out
to grab onto.
Let it all flow by,
with love, push it all
into the cloud of forgetting.

Notes:

Green, Thomas H.. When the Well Runs Dry: Prayer Beyond the Beginnings. Notre Dame: Ava Maria Press, 1998.

Home: A Participation Essay

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The year before meeting my Becky, Billy Joel’s song “You’re My Home,” grabbed my attention. In particular, there was one line that has since been an integral advocate for steadiness as Becky and I have traversed the years; “Wherever we’re together/That’s my home.”

I have literally lost count of the number of times she and I have moved in our years together. This year, just as we were completing the first year in this location, an unanticipated, necessary change was brought into existence, asking us to yet again begin plans for moving. The sad reality may be that this change was not completely a surprise; but you know what is said about hindsight. Foreseen or unforeseen, it is what it is. And here we are, in the thick of ropes and riggin’, a rodeo not new to us.

At such times, it is far too easy to stubbornly continue to view with the lenses we’ve become comfortable looking through, even though they’ve been shattered by trauma, sadness, and/or disappointment. Sudden change, with its on and off, unpredictable companion of despair, can bring one hard to ground, flooding a mind with troubling assessments and doubtful questions. In such times of suffering, rushing to answer questions normal to life and living can actually disfigure original intent into the doubt and assessment that threaten to kill one’s very soul. 

Questions can be like a dear friend, if we allow them to travel with us, not needing to rush to answers. And the questions to which I refer, the ones which will serve us better by holding them for a while, do not come from outside influence. Rather, these life-giving questions come from one’s very soul.

Turning
In my younger years I played a misguided game with religion. Mostly, with hindsight focused at 20/20, I was in a solo contest of approval, attempting to be good enough. I wish such a game of superfluous merit on no one. Please don’t misinterpret what I’m saying. I’m not anti-religion. I am against any form of so called faith misdirected for selfish human control over another. Religion is made false when merit becomes the purpose versus love. As Richard Rohr espouses, to be true, religion will always guide us from, and point us to, love.

Love is reality.

In young adulthood, I was accepted into, and came close to attending, seminary. I was 25 years old, we had been married a bit over three years, and our daughter was 6 months old. I had just completed a successful year as a life insurance agent, achieving the Rookie-of-the-Year award, and other accolades in the territory of which I was a part. It was also the year my parents divorced after 30 years of marriage.

As if all that was not enough for my young family, I believed I was being “called” into the ministry. After being accepted by a theological seminary, we sold our first house, I quit my selling job, we packed up, gathered our baby daughter, and headed toward the seminary. In the process of all this, I had a disturbing realization it was not the right time for this decision. We made it as far as my hometown, about three hours northeast of the seminary destination. I became confused to the point of despair. We rented a place and decided to stay for a time so I could supposedly figure out the confusion.

I can still feel the pain of my bewilderment all these years later. More than anything at the time, it seems I had become caught up in the reaction of others to my original (and undeveloped) thoughts of ministry. It felt good to have others be so “proud” of me. Their communication of pride, and my vain connection to what was being said, served ego more than authenticity. When I realized the truth, the agony was great.

Albeit painful, how grateful I am that I was forced along another path. As the path unfolded, I learned things in the corporate experience that became invaluable to me, to my family, and to the leaders I’ve worked with over the last seventeen years. Since consciously launching into a work that chose me, I’ve often looked back on that time. From what I now see, I continue to be grateful we didn’t make it to the seminary campus. For you see, I believe I would not have been where this work could find me had I followed through on that decision.

The ensuing years, with a treasure of experience, prepared me for now, the release into the flow of who I am in what it is I really do; what life and living was preparing me to do all along. The true diversity found in the true self of individuals has taught me things of truth that would not have been available in seminary course work, at least not in the days I would’ve attended. Since that time I’ve been on a journey deep within seeking truth in what I’ve come to know as Trueness.

Trueness is reality.
Trueness is a living paradox
of divinity and humanity,
and a creative tension
of simplicity and complexity.

Returning
Just prior to this year’s change, imploring us to open to one more transition, I’d begun to explore beyond meditation into centering prayer. As part of centering prayer’s methodology, one is taught to leverage a word; a point upon which to return when thoughts demand all the space one is attempting to open with this time of quiet. I chose Love.

When emotions had us in a spiral, I found it extremely difficult to get my spirit into the place where the word love would bring me back from the thinking. I didn’t know what to do. Along with this, the few minutes of time in the morning were not enough. I took a lot of walks in the neighborhood, and hikes along trails in our park system, as I fought back the questions formed in the boiler of disappointment and anger that this was happening.

On one of the walks, while in a particularly downhearted funk, I found myself conscious of the fact I was not breathing normally, and in some moments not at all. I intentionally corrected that by breathing as deeply as I physically could, and suddenly found a different word actually speaking to me; Home.

This transition has our move plans directing a relocation back to the state where we first met and began our life together. On the walk that day, I instantly assumed this different word was because of the talk of going “back home.” Within a few steps I knew something much deeper and greater was being spoken. Home was calling from somewhere deep inside me. Since that walk, as I sit down for centering prayer, my word home settles the mind and opens a space for love. After much openness to both home and love, as words for centering, I’ve begun to feel their confluence; that they are actually one in the same.

In the years since attaching myself to Billy Joel’s lyrical line, home became much less a place and more a territory (inner and outer) worth exploring. Becky and I have explored together within our geographical locations over the years; she is wonderful at researching our locations and planning our outings. Now, in light of current transition, I would say it is important to continue many things as we’ve always done them, and it is of great significance to consciously consider what home now means to us.

Within reason, I’m not sure if I care where we live: As long as I have my Becky, “Wherever we’re together/That’s my home.”

Notes:

Joel, Billy. You’re My Home. Album: Piano Man, 1973.

Rohr, Richard. Franciscan priest of the New Mexico Province and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation (CAC) in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

I’m a great fan of David Whyte. I love this brief video about Home:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P92kymp1fxY

Whyte, David. Poet, Author, and Speaker. davidwhyte.com– Langley, WA 98260: Copyright © 2018

Bourgeault, Cynthia. The Heart of Centering Prayer: Nondual Christianity in Theory and Practice. Boulder: Shambhala Publications, 2016.