Forgiveness

Forgiveness

 

None of us

Is perfect

Each of us needs

Forgiveness for something

 

Granting that forgiveness

To others

Also gives it to

Oneself

 

It is an admission

Of our imperfection

That sparks hope

For living joyfully

 

If we were people who always did everything right, compassionately and thoughtfully, we probably would not be human at all. We all make mistakes. We all exercise poor judgement at times and offend others, doing damage to our own lives and those of others.

 

It has been said that a man who seeks revenge digs two graves. There is even neurological evidence to suggest that inability to forgive impedes our current functioning and our ability to enjoy life. So move on and move forward. Forgive yourself and others and enjoy this imperfect humanity we share.   

 



Never Give Up?

Lesley's Blog

This week I began my third round of physical therapy.

It's been two years since I fell while hiking in Britain and severely damaged my ankle. After having the hardware removed fifteen months later I was grateful to be relieved of the chronic pain that had been caused by one of the large screws constantly irritating a tendon. 

However, on the recent trip to Washington D.C. Eric and I walked an average of five miles a day, something we both enjoyed, checking out all the sites. But when I finally rested in the early evening and then tried to walk again the pain was almost unbearable. Fortunately, after the more prolonged rest overnight I was able to walk around that wonderful city again the next day. In spite of the pain in the evenings I loved the walking in the days and was determined not to give up. 

This was the second time in the last few months that I had had this same experience; the first being with my sister in Britain, in March, when we vacationed in the North Yorkshire Moors and walked several miles everyday in that wonderful countryside. We did not walk as far as we have hiked on previous vacations, because of my ankle injury, and I was shocked that I was in so much pain by the end of each day. But I love the hiking and did not want to give in.  

My surgeon in Oklahoma City, for whom I have great respect, has told me that, after such a traumatic injury, my ankle will not be the way it used to be. In spite of that information I am not willing to settle yet. I'm not willing to give up. So I am back for another round of therapy and am determined to work hard to try for another level of healing.

A few years ago one of the advertisements for the NBA finals had the statement "And you never give up. And you never give in". There was something about that phrase that I loved. I found it inspiring and it is helping me keep going with my recovery now.

Like many people I come from a family who never gave up. My parents worked hard and we were taught to do the same. We were also taught to finish what we had started and to start only those things that we were going to finish. In my adult life these lessons have really helped me.

But now in my sixties I recognize I am in a different phase of my life and can rethink some of the old belief systems, an important aspect of this developmental phase. Looking back I can see that sometimes "never give up" became translated into a perfectionistic style creating, unnecessary stress and at times I stuck with things beyond what was helpful or necessary.

Now, although I still make sure that home care and my business are taken care of in a timely and appropriate way, I give myself permission to be more connected with what gives me joy and to release those things that do not. I feel able to try things that I think I might like but not pursue them if I do not really enjoy them. I can change my mind and "give up". I would have liked to have learned to do this a little earlier in my life but "it's better late than never".

Part of what I struggled with when I was younger was wanting to be what I am not. I longed to be the sort of person who was really, really gifted at something, developed that gift and then enjoyed the fruits of that hard work by the joy it would bring me. However, I don't have any special gifts but instead am relatively okay at several things. The result has often been frustration that my longing did not match reality, no matter how hard I tried.

Now, thankgoodness, I am more humble (I hope) and mostly I try to focus on enjoying what is good enough. I still catch myself longing to be "perfect" but I can laugh at that (mostly) and remind myself to enjoy the process and not focus on the product or the goal. It's still a learning phase!! Meanwhile, in my latest endeavor of oriental brushwork I have given up trying to make perfect bamboo and moved onto practicing rocks and trees which I find easier and much more satisfying. We'll see what happens when I try to put an actual landscape together.

So, enjoy learning for yourself when to "never give up" and when to release into "good enough" or into experimenting with something else. And sometimes "humble pie" tastes really good and can help get rid of that perfectionism that can be take away our joy.    

  

           

        

WORRY

Eric's Post

 

Worry

 

Worrying about finances

May help me

Tighten my budget

 

Worrying about leaving

The front door unlocked

May help me

Close it

 

Worrying about

Whether the sky will fall in

Or

Whether it will rain next Thursday

Spins me into

An unpleasant frenzy

 

Worrying about some things can be helpful. If they are under our control we may be able to do something different to alleviate our anxiety. Worrying about things that are outside our control is troublesome because there is nothing we can do about them. As the worrying gains momentum we become more and more dysfunctional. As a Catholic priest once told me, "Give these worries to God, and let go of them". 

 



Speaking Out

Lesley's Blog

Today I mailed a letter to President Obama, my very first "political"
communication.

Eric and I have just returned from a wonderful trip to Washington D.C. That was also a first, my first visit to that very special city. I hadn't expected to be so inspired by the great past presidents, their courage, determination, creative thinking and sensitivity to injustice and inequality. So,I wrote to the President.

It doesn't matter what I wrote about, just that I wrote. I don't expect my one letter to have any impact but speaking out is cumulative, the more people do it, the more likely the message is to be heard. America is a country of great diversity and I believe it is important that all views be expressed and heard. But we must take care to express those views with respect, irrespective of how intensely we might feel about our beliefs.

Expression alone is not enough. We must also be willing to truly listen to each other and try to understand different points of view, even if they are initially abhorent to us. Listening gives the message that we value and respect all individuals, even if we disagree and it is the key to the development of creative resolutions to the  issues that we face in this very complex and ever changing society.

I don't think I will become a political activist any time soon but I probably will find ways to speak more openly about the society and world issues that are heartfelt for me. Hopefully I will be more willingly to say, "I am really glad you shared that but I see things differently" and then give a brief statement of how I see things and be willing to really think about what the other person has said.

So often we don't speak out because we fear that we might offend someone and they will not like us anymore. Or we fear their anger with us if we hold different views or beliefs. It is strange that we live in a country in which it is mostly safe for us to speak out and yet we still habor fears.

In our intimate relationships with family and spouses we are often paralyzed with fears in the same way, fears of anger, conflict, cut-off, abandonment and all the consequences that can come from those responses. We fear that we will no longer be loved if we speak out and that terrible things will happen. 

But ironically terrible things happen if we do not speak out. In our personal lives we become diminished, leading lives without real connections and that require us to hide so much of ourselves. The society also suffers when a majority remains silent for we lose the richness of diversity of opinions and beliefs that can help us find creative resolutions to our conflicts and challenges.

Someone gave me for Christmas a small bottle of an essential oil called Valor and when I dab it on in the mornings it has become a wonderful reminder for me to dig deep every day for the courage that lives within all of us. Hard as it is, at times, I want to live a life in which I find the courage to speak out, irrespective of how others respond, and the courage to listen so that I can do what I can to enrich my own life and that of the society in which I live.     

          

Couples' Magic

Eric's Blog

Thank You

 

Thank you

For doing the washing

For making supper

 

Thank you's

Show appreciation

For mundane jobs

And partnership in living

 

Lesley and I have a habit of saying "Thank you" for things we do for each other. I must admit, I acquired the habit from her and I really like it. It let's others know they are not being taken for granted. It also helps me become aware of others' contribution.

 

Some couples seem incapable of this simple gesture. They act as adversaries in living together and see saying "Thank you" as "I owe you one" or "I am one down to you".

 

Share the joy of living together with a simple "Thank you". It is catching.

The Sound of Silence

Lesley's Blog

This is a follow-up to the blog , "A Convenient Pilgrimage".

" But peace, perhaps.
There is no quiet that matters
Except inside your head"

"Not needing to clutch
The thread of our thought-
For most of us, an only time
To be still and catch a glimpse
Of our spinning
To be an echo from the center
And go on unfolding
As all the smells of growing
Unfold moistly round us."

From Soundings by Christine Evans (who has lived intermittently on Bardsey)


Four hours on Bardsey might not be thought of as a "real" pilgrimage but for me being on the holy island of Bardsey proved to be a magical and sacred moment in time.  

The beginning set the scene; arriving late at the parking place (or so I thought), frustrated at myself, running down to the beach to get to the boat on time only to have to wait an hour. But it was in the waiting that the gift began, allowing a release of the need for things to happen in a certain way and the opening up to embrace whatever happens just as it is.

The day was glorious with clear blue sky and barely a breath of wind. The sea moved gently onto the sand with no sign of the ferocity that it often displayed, that would make the crossing to the island a dangerous enterprise.Today the sea was showing us its gentle side, beckoning me to relax, release and restore.The cove was a wonderful place to explore and I delighted in peering into caves and rock pools and inspecting barnacles and limpets clinging precariously to the stones scattered along the beach. Some of the groups of large rocks were smoothed by millions of years of being washed by the waves while others were jagged and seemingly untouched by the elements.

When the boat appeared a sense of quiet anticipation seemed to fill all of us as we waded, with feet bared and clothes hiked up above knobbly knees, into the frigid ocean to climb aboard. After a smooth crossing we stepped onto the shore at Cafn Enlli. In the stone boathouse by the jetty are stored the long oars used in bygone days by hardy men who braved treacherous seas to bring people and needed supplies back and forth from the mainland. It's a sobering reminder that life on an isolated island would have a harsh and unpredicable side that our romantic notions, especially on such a calm day, might overlook.

It was the "sound of silence" that was the most striking, as I walked along the unpaved track by stone walls. With no cars allowed there seemed to be a different freedom of movement, more basic, clean and earthy.Following the path I passed sturdy houses, built to withstand the wind and storms that can batter this small island, finally arriving at the ruins of the 13th century Augustinian Abbey. This community of devout monks was a Christian late comer to the island. The first monastery was probably founded by St. Cadfan in about 516. Although nothing physically is left of those celtic brothers in Christ, historic memory and the accummulation of sacred energy is their legacy to us.  

Inside the ruins had been placed a rough slate topped altar with a cross carved on the front. Above, in the window arch on a jagged piece of slate stood a simple celtic cross. It was beautiful and touching. Sitting on a bench in the silence I was surprised by the welling of tears in my eyes. This moment of "knowing" the sacredness of this island, formed by hundreds of prayers that had been uttered over the centuries and the devotion of the men who uttered them was, I realised my pilgrimage. 

Giving thanks I left with a joyful heart to visit the Bardsey Island Trust Shop and Exhibition Center, across the road. I was greeted by Dennis, the caretaker's dog, who carried his leash hopefully in his mouth, obviously harboring great expectations of a walk. He vigorously denied that anyone had ever taken him for a walk, even though his owner indicated that they had circumambulated the island just that morning. When I did not respond to his pitiful look and pleadings, he returned deflated to lie on the floor waiting for the next visitor who might take him more seriously.

It was here that the ultimate in porta potties was to be found, if your bladder or other needs are calling. Simply a plastic loo shaped bucket sitting on the stone floor with not even a pit below, it would serve its purpose but only if you were desperate. It was a reminder that sacredness is fundamentally very basic in nature or maybe even based in nature.

In the graveyard close by were two of the passengers from the boat. The trip was a birthday treat for the older women given to her by her daughter-in-law. The mother-in-law lived on the mainland and over the years had often gazed longingly at the Bardsey lighthouse beam, hoping that one day she might visit the island. Lovingly, her daughter-in- law had made her wish come true. 

Walking further, I soon stopped to eat my filling lunch of bread and cheese outside a small chapel with a heavy arched wooden door, above which hung a bell with a long chain attached. Refraining from the urge to pull the chain, I entered into the homey place of worship which had four wooden pews on each side and a small table covered with a white cloth serving as an altar. It was lovely and heartfelt in its simplicity. 

Time was running out but I made a last stop at the sandy beach, Porth Solfach, on the opposite side of the island to the jetty. I wade up to mid thigh in the clear, frigid ocean and watch with pleasure the bobbing heads of the seals, seemingly peering at me with great curiosity. Fancifully I wonder if they might be silkies, those mystical creatures who can explore the seas as seals or shed their skin and become human. But if they stay on the land too long they will dry up so must put their skin back and return to the watery depths to be replenished. I wonder if it is the same for us. Are those times when we feel dried up beckoning us to swim again in the watery depths of our feelings to help us know our way once more.

Back on the boat the engine rumbles into life and soon the island is a small spot on the horizon. But it remains large and vivid in my mind. As the other passengers chat about with each other I sit in silence thinking about the need for silence being like the need for water, without it we dry up and become brittle, surface only creatures. When we forget to be present to the truth of ourself, revealed in stillness and silence, we lose connection to the deep life that keeps us moist and vibrant, flexible and creative.

And I think of how much courage it took to live on a place like Bardsey in those earlier centuries for the magic and sacredness was certainly balanced by the hardships and sufferings. And I think of how I might be more sturdy, hardy and courageous in my own life.

When I was a child I went to the south of Wales for vacation with my parents. My memories of that time are very vague except for the visit we made to Caldey Island, where there was a strong order of monks. Although access for women visitors was limited, we were allowed to observe the monks at one of their worship services. It was amazingly beautiful, I remember, and recalling that on the boat trip from Bardsey, I wondered about how we respond to the internal calling from that "monk" energy that is in all of us, usually well hidden. Is it that energy that helps us balance aloneness with community and prayerful time with plain hard work, all of which are equally sacred.

The arrival back to the beach stopped my musing and I let the questions release into my unconscious to be replenished with wisdom for later review.

It had been a wonder filled day.     
    

               

Stop Digging

Eric's Blog

Stop Digging

 

When you find yourself

In a hole

Stop digging

 

Crawl out

And

Get a new perspective

 

 

 

Sometimes when we get depressed we do the same things over and over again. We know they are not working and we have limited energy to do them. Even the previously "fun" things don't feel like fun anymore. We know we need to do something different. That something may not always be apparent and it may take trial and error to find it. It is worth the effort and it doesn't help to keep digging.