Lesley's Blog
This blog was written a couple of weeks ago. I did not post it at the time so it is sort of "outdated" as we have gone and come back from our vacation already. But I like the idea of life as an experiment so I wanted to share my thoughts even after the fact. I have added an "after the experiment" update at the end. Enjoy.
In August we will be in New Mexico for a week. The dogs are going with us and we are considering this jaunt to be an experiment.
It will be the first time we have taken our two seventy pound smooth collies with us on vacation and we are not sure how much of a vacation it will be. The pet friendly cabin we have rented is on seven acres but the land is not fenced securely. Our dogs are used to going in and out of the house through the dog door into our fenced yard whenever they want to. Although they are completely house trained and do not destroy property ( at least not since Merlin graduated from puppyhood and eating cell phones left within his reach) we wonder what the anxiety of being in a strange house might bring.
Like many couples, Eric and I tend to have different views and different ways of doing things at times. I tend to follow rules and not take risks and so being in someone else's property with our dogs is creating some anxiety for me. I want to make sure I do the "right" thing and that nothing goes wrong. Eric tends to feel it will all be okay and that the dogs and everything else will be fine.
We want to be able to do some site seeing while we are there and many places will not be welcoming of our beloved dogs. But I need to be certain that the dogs will be okay left alone in a strange place and that no property will be damaged.
So we have talked at length about our different styles and, given that I am the one who has the most anxiety, what I need in order to feel alright. We have already taken care of some of the issues by renting a property located on seven acres so that our barking collies will not disturb the peace of the neighborhood. Then we will test how comfortable the dogs are in the cabin by leaving them alone for increasingly longer periods of time. Giving them plenty of exercise before we leave them alone will hopefully ensure that they will be doing lots of napping in our absence.
When I was in my twenties I worked as a research scientist and although experiments are planned with a hypothesis in mind, it is important that the researchers remain detached from the outcome so as not to influence the results. The actual experiment needs to be carefully designed and the results taken into account when designing subsequent experiments to provide further knowledge.
Science is also about creatively thinking outside the box, taking risks and leaps of faith, being flexible, listening to intuitive ideas all finally focused in to a specific structure in order to reveal wisdom. Over time with careful thought and planning and ongoing additions of creativity and flair, that wisdom can be increased incrementally to hopefully help all beings in some way.
In many ways we can think of a well lived life in the same way, a wonderful combination of organization and the wildness of creativity, living the process without attachment to outcome. I love thinking about my life in terms of a series of experiments and I approached this vacation in that way, beginning with the idea "we can have a great vacation with the dogs." Then I imagined how we could create a wonderful experience taking into account such factors as drive distance, type of accommodation and, as importantly, mine and Eric's emotional issues that might be significant.
I researched options and plans but always with the understanding in mind that it is just a series of experiments and that staying detached from the outcome and being willing to adjust to ongoing data will allow us to be pleasantly surprised and joy filled no matter what happens. We will adjust and cope with creativity, flexibility, flair, intuition and lots of organization and practical plans!!
Some people might ask "But where does spontaneity come in?" I personally have found spontaneity to be rather overrated but I know that others love to live in that style. However trying to take dogs on vacation spontaneously might be quite a challenge so for now I will stick to my experiments.
After the Experiment
It was a really good experience and the planning we had done proved to be most helpful for us and the dogs. Mostly we were able to go with few expectations and were careful to do less rather than more so that we did not get overly tired or stressed. It worked well to remind each other when things were difficult that "it's just an experiment".
We and the dogs enjoyed a nice balance of exercising and seeing amazing sites with lots of rest and restoration. Our choice of activities focused on "the road less traveled" rather than the usual tourist haunts and on several occasions we were alone in the countryside so that our dogs had lots of freedom to roam.
Now back at home we are grateful to have two very adaptable and mostly well behaved dogs. We are gratedful for a safe trip and that we had the opportunity to see and do new things in the beautiful state of New Mexico. We are also grateful for the dog door and a fenced yard so we do not need to go out in the early morning or late evening to supervise the dogs.
We are especially grateful for the experiment of living every day.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Monday, August 26, 2013
Life Pitches
Eric's Blog
Life Pitches
A fast ball
I learn to hit it
A curve ball
I struggle but do OK
A slider
Knocks me down
I get up
It's hard to get up
I need more fast balls
A few curves
And less sliders
Each of us has difficult times. Some are easier to cope with than others. Some of us can't hit fast balls; some can't hit curve balls. For me it's a slider.
What makes for a slider? Sometimes it's multiple losses in succession or totally unexpected calamities that try my usual coping skills. They knock me down but in time I get up again and bat. It's no fun lying on the ground.
Friday, August 16, 2013
A Convenient Pilgrimage
Lesley's Blog
For many years my parents lived in North Wales, a very special area of the United Kingdom that I delighted in exploring, especially on foot. On the North West side of Wales is the Llyn Peninsula, at the end of which is Bardsey Island, known in earlier times as The Island of Twenty Thousand Saints. A place of pilgrimage, especially in the Middle Ages, Bardsey Island can be a challenging place to access with the turbulent waters of the Sound making the several mile trip unpredictable at best. Whether it was the difficulty of the journey or the holiness of the island, or both, it was traditionally accepted that three pilgrimages to Bardsey were equivalent of one to THE place of Christian pilgrimage, Rome.
I arrived in the village of Aberdaron on the evening of a warm summer day to begin my own form of pilgrimage to Bardsey. After staying overnight in a bed and breakfast establishment, I started off early the next morning in plenty of time to find the boat, or so I thought. The parking place, I had been told, was a field from which there was a long walk down to a beach and the boat. The field proved to be very elusive and, after losing the way for a while, I finally arrived at 10:10a.m. I raced in to park my car, with the dire warning ringing in my head that I had to be at the loading area by 10:15a.m., the implication being that the boat would wait for no man (or woman for that matter). The uneven path across more fields down to the cove was fortunately just that, down hill. I ran vigorously to arrive panting and exhausted, late. No boat was in sight: an interesting beginning to my "pilgrimage" day, especially as the boat approached the shore about an hour later.
Several people were wandering on the beach and an older woman and young boy were amazingly swimming in the frigid ocean. The were part of the Ch..... family, the brave swimmers being the grandmother and grandson. Mr and Mrs Ch..... had been to Bardsey several times and on one occasion, they told me, had been stranded for several additional days, after a week's stay, when bad weather prohibited their return boat journey across the Sound.
The Ch.....'s had been involved with organizing a pilgrimage for two thousand people from the Diocese of Bangor, a town on the North Welsh coast. The journey was significantly easier and faster than for earlier pilgrims who endured hardships galore in order to reach the holy destination. In contrast these modern day pilgrims set out in luxury coaches. Several energetic and dedicated individuals did choose to walk a section of the original pilgrims' way, a minor "hardship" in comparison.
Part of Mrs Ch.....'s job was as organizer of "conveniences" as they are known in Britain (or bathrooms in the United States). She contacted villages along the route to ensure an ample supply of "loos". Apparently, on arrival at said toilets, they often found them adorned with a fresh coat of paint, probably the first for many years. The villagers had clearly been spiritually inspired! With great ingenuity Mrs Ch..... also persuaded a small group of monks at a retreat house along the way to open up their latrines. It was a massive degree of organization for a potty break. Oh! the joys of being a modern pilgrim with all the modern conveniences.
At first reading, a journey of well organized luxury might not seem like a very adequate "pilgrimage" but who are we to judge. It is likely that each participant had his or her unique spiritual process and experience, not to mention the impact on the public toilets along the way. Doing something very small with little effort can be as transforming as a lengthy arduous experience. I believe that whatever we need spiritually is what is presented to us and it is up to us to decide what to make of it, large or small, easy or difficult.
As for my own Bardsey experience? I'll let you know next blog.
For many years my parents lived in North Wales, a very special area of the United Kingdom that I delighted in exploring, especially on foot. On the North West side of Wales is the Llyn Peninsula, at the end of which is Bardsey Island, known in earlier times as The Island of Twenty Thousand Saints. A place of pilgrimage, especially in the Middle Ages, Bardsey Island can be a challenging place to access with the turbulent waters of the Sound making the several mile trip unpredictable at best. Whether it was the difficulty of the journey or the holiness of the island, or both, it was traditionally accepted that three pilgrimages to Bardsey were equivalent of one to THE place of Christian pilgrimage, Rome.
I arrived in the village of Aberdaron on the evening of a warm summer day to begin my own form of pilgrimage to Bardsey. After staying overnight in a bed and breakfast establishment, I started off early the next morning in plenty of time to find the boat, or so I thought. The parking place, I had been told, was a field from which there was a long walk down to a beach and the boat. The field proved to be very elusive and, after losing the way for a while, I finally arrived at 10:10a.m. I raced in to park my car, with the dire warning ringing in my head that I had to be at the loading area by 10:15a.m., the implication being that the boat would wait for no man (or woman for that matter). The uneven path across more fields down to the cove was fortunately just that, down hill. I ran vigorously to arrive panting and exhausted, late. No boat was in sight: an interesting beginning to my "pilgrimage" day, especially as the boat approached the shore about an hour later.
Several people were wandering on the beach and an older woman and young boy were amazingly swimming in the frigid ocean. The were part of the Ch..... family, the brave swimmers being the grandmother and grandson. Mr and Mrs Ch..... had been to Bardsey several times and on one occasion, they told me, had been stranded for several additional days, after a week's stay, when bad weather prohibited their return boat journey across the Sound.
The Ch.....'s had been involved with organizing a pilgrimage for two thousand people from the Diocese of Bangor, a town on the North Welsh coast. The journey was significantly easier and faster than for earlier pilgrims who endured hardships galore in order to reach the holy destination. In contrast these modern day pilgrims set out in luxury coaches. Several energetic and dedicated individuals did choose to walk a section of the original pilgrims' way, a minor "hardship" in comparison.
Part of Mrs Ch.....'s job was as organizer of "conveniences" as they are known in Britain (or bathrooms in the United States). She contacted villages along the route to ensure an ample supply of "loos". Apparently, on arrival at said toilets, they often found them adorned with a fresh coat of paint, probably the first for many years. The villagers had clearly been spiritually inspired! With great ingenuity Mrs Ch..... also persuaded a small group of monks at a retreat house along the way to open up their latrines. It was a massive degree of organization for a potty break. Oh! the joys of being a modern pilgrim with all the modern conveniences.
At first reading, a journey of well organized luxury might not seem like a very adequate "pilgrimage" but who are we to judge. It is likely that each participant had his or her unique spiritual process and experience, not to mention the impact on the public toilets along the way. Doing something very small with little effort can be as transforming as a lengthy arduous experience. I believe that whatever we need spiritually is what is presented to us and it is up to us to decide what to make of it, large or small, easy or difficult.
As for my own Bardsey experience? I'll let you know next blog.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Keep Your Shoes
Eric's Post
Keep Your Shoes
When we imagine ourselves
In someone's shoes
We have empathy
Empathy is a good thing
It helps us understand
And feel for others
Some people though
Lose their shoes when they
Walk in the shoes of others
Keep your shoes
Live with compassion
For yourself and others
Sensivity to others, their needs, their ways, their values is an important part of connecting with others. It helps us respect them and treat them with dignity. However, as we become sensitive to others it is also important that we remain sensitive to ourselves, our needs, our values, our belief systems, so we don't get lost in our lives. Compassion for ourself and others is a humane path for all of us.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
The Modern Pilgrim
Lesley's Post
A few months ago I watched the movie "The Way" in which a man takes the ashes of his son on the pilgrimage route, Camino de Santiago (The Way of St. James), through northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela, a walk of several hundred miles. At the final destination it is said that the remains of St.
James are buried. In former times this long journey would have been very arduous and dangerous, not just because of the distance but brigands roamed the countryside and pilgrims were easy prey.
Over time towns, villages, hospices, monasteries and means of protection for the pilgrims developed so that food, accommodation and safety were increasingly available. In the movie the characters were well fed and certainly safe but the accommodations were not of the en suite variety, which is my strong preference. Several years ago, before my ankle injury, I had read articles about this pilgrimage and had put the journey on my internal "bucket list". Now older and with a greater love of soft beds and private bathrooms, I muttered to my spouse while watching the movie, "Remind me not to sign up for this".
Early Christians, such as the Desert Fathers, sought places of solitude in which to more deeply connect with the God of their understanding. For those believers it was the desert, whereas Celtic Christians often sought natural wildness and solitude on islands. These pilgrims, known as Pelegrini, (linked by its Latin root to the concept of wandering over a great distance), set out on ocean voyages in what we would consider very inadequate vessels made of wood covered with animal skin, waterproofed with tallow. With very little knowledge of sea craft, they made leaps of faith to endure hard and unpredictable journeys over uncharted waters. On the islands they sailed to, life was equally hard and unpredictable.
Living in communities or as hermits, these devout and brave wanderers sought and found what they wanted, a strengthening of their love for their wonderous Creator. They also found in those wild places a powerful relationship with nature which was reflected in their writings and poetry. Like Thoreau, they knew abundance in simplicity and peace in the grinding rhythm of daily prayer and hard labor. And with their prayers and devotions the sacredness of the space gathered in energy to sustain them over the years. They were the embodiment of what it means to be a pilgrim.
In places like Tibet, even today, pilgrims can be seen moving on bound knees, blocks tied to their hands for addition protection while making prostrations, as they shuffles along with excrutiating slowness towards or around places they consider sacred. These truly commited souls, looking humility in the eye with every movement, seem to epitomize the arduous nature of pilgrimage.
So, in this day and age in America, what does it mean to be a pilgrim, to seek to know something of the Divine? With few wild places to wander to and with many of the sacred places being easily accessible, not to mention commercialized, how to we embrace a desire to make a meaningful pilgrimage? Does it have to be dangerous without mod cons, as in the days of old? Can we really find "Paradise Lost" in our modern world without much solitude in nature and the hard physicality of sustaining our daily life?
In the movie the characters discussed their stated reasons for choosing to make the journey but by the end it was clear that those were not their "soul" reasons. One woman wanted to give up smoking and a man wanted to lose weight. They were heading for a sacred place where thousands of individuals over hundreds of years have uttered prayers and made supplications, hoping for their own miracle. What they learned, of course, was that the process of journeys change us in unexpected ways and the miracle is when our hearts open, when we let go of our longed for outcome, and allow the changes to work within us. And for many, just feeling that sacred energy, a palpable expression of the Divine, has been reason enough to make the journey. Feeling the Divine Love is the miracle.
Maybe it is as simple as that all life is a pilgrimage in which we wander, being in tune with the process but releasing the outcome, expecting the unexpected and being commited to learning the lessons along the way. Can we visit the wild and natural places of solitude within and embrace the hardship and miracles of life just as they are. And maybe now our pilgrimage also calls us to ask where and in what activities in our daily life do we most experience the sacred energy, and to be deeply present to those moments in time. Does it call us to be devoted in each moment of our lives as were the early Celtic Christians with their wonderful prayers said for every mundane task? And can our pilgrimage mean that we embrace the joy of moments of solitude in nature, compassion in community and love of life's everyday toils?
I don't know. Each person's life path is different and each pilgrimage is unique. Our task, I suppose, is to take the first step and keep going, opening ourselves to whatever comes along the way.
A few months ago I watched the movie "The Way" in which a man takes the ashes of his son on the pilgrimage route, Camino de Santiago (The Way of St. James), through northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela, a walk of several hundred miles. At the final destination it is said that the remains of St.
James are buried. In former times this long journey would have been very arduous and dangerous, not just because of the distance but brigands roamed the countryside and pilgrims were easy prey.
Over time towns, villages, hospices, monasteries and means of protection for the pilgrims developed so that food, accommodation and safety were increasingly available. In the movie the characters were well fed and certainly safe but the accommodations were not of the en suite variety, which is my strong preference. Several years ago, before my ankle injury, I had read articles about this pilgrimage and had put the journey on my internal "bucket list". Now older and with a greater love of soft beds and private bathrooms, I muttered to my spouse while watching the movie, "Remind me not to sign up for this".
Early Christians, such as the Desert Fathers, sought places of solitude in which to more deeply connect with the God of their understanding. For those believers it was the desert, whereas Celtic Christians often sought natural wildness and solitude on islands. These pilgrims, known as Pelegrini, (linked by its Latin root to the concept of wandering over a great distance), set out on ocean voyages in what we would consider very inadequate vessels made of wood covered with animal skin, waterproofed with tallow. With very little knowledge of sea craft, they made leaps of faith to endure hard and unpredictable journeys over uncharted waters. On the islands they sailed to, life was equally hard and unpredictable.
Living in communities or as hermits, these devout and brave wanderers sought and found what they wanted, a strengthening of their love for their wonderous Creator. They also found in those wild places a powerful relationship with nature which was reflected in their writings and poetry. Like Thoreau, they knew abundance in simplicity and peace in the grinding rhythm of daily prayer and hard labor. And with their prayers and devotions the sacredness of the space gathered in energy to sustain them over the years. They were the embodiment of what it means to be a pilgrim.
In places like Tibet, even today, pilgrims can be seen moving on bound knees, blocks tied to their hands for addition protection while making prostrations, as they shuffles along with excrutiating slowness towards or around places they consider sacred. These truly commited souls, looking humility in the eye with every movement, seem to epitomize the arduous nature of pilgrimage.
So, in this day and age in America, what does it mean to be a pilgrim, to seek to know something of the Divine? With few wild places to wander to and with many of the sacred places being easily accessible, not to mention commercialized, how to we embrace a desire to make a meaningful pilgrimage? Does it have to be dangerous without mod cons, as in the days of old? Can we really find "Paradise Lost" in our modern world without much solitude in nature and the hard physicality of sustaining our daily life?
In the movie the characters discussed their stated reasons for choosing to make the journey but by the end it was clear that those were not their "soul" reasons. One woman wanted to give up smoking and a man wanted to lose weight. They were heading for a sacred place where thousands of individuals over hundreds of years have uttered prayers and made supplications, hoping for their own miracle. What they learned, of course, was that the process of journeys change us in unexpected ways and the miracle is when our hearts open, when we let go of our longed for outcome, and allow the changes to work within us. And for many, just feeling that sacred energy, a palpable expression of the Divine, has been reason enough to make the journey. Feeling the Divine Love is the miracle.
Maybe it is as simple as that all life is a pilgrimage in which we wander, being in tune with the process but releasing the outcome, expecting the unexpected and being commited to learning the lessons along the way. Can we visit the wild and natural places of solitude within and embrace the hardship and miracles of life just as they are. And maybe now our pilgrimage also calls us to ask where and in what activities in our daily life do we most experience the sacred energy, and to be deeply present to those moments in time. Does it call us to be devoted in each moment of our lives as were the early Celtic Christians with their wonderful prayers said for every mundane task? And can our pilgrimage mean that we embrace the joy of moments of solitude in nature, compassion in community and love of life's everyday toils?
I don't know. Each person's life path is different and each pilgrimage is unique. Our task, I suppose, is to take the first step and keep going, opening ourselves to whatever comes along the way.
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