Inner180

Sometimes good fortune arrives in our lives so effortlessly that we can’t believe it.  We hesitate and hold back.  Surely it can’t be this easy, we tell ourselves.  Our smaller, more painful interpretation of life is so much more familiar so it seems safer and more real.  We shrink from the beauty and magic unfolding before us.

Rumi urges us to seize life fearlessly, to let go and merge with it, and to embrace with ease the joy and opportunity as it comes to us:

The Seed Market

Can you find another market like this?
Where,
with your one rose
you can buy hundreds of rose gardens?
Where
For one seed
you get a whole wilderness?
For one weak breath,
the divine wind?
You have been fearful
of being absorbed in the ground,
or drawn up by the air.
Now, your waterbead lets go
and drops into the ocean,
where it came from.
It no longer has the form it had,
but it’s still water.
The essence is the same.
This giving up is not a repenting.
It’s a deep honoring of yourself.
When the ocean comes to you as a lover,
marry, at once, quickly,
for God’s sake!
Don’t postpone it!
Existence has no better gift.
No amount of searching
will find this.
A perfect falcon, for no reason,
has landed on your shoulder,
and become yours.

Has a perfect falcon landed on your shoulder?  What do you want to do with it?  Do you welcome it wholeheartedly?  Will you honor yourself, believe it, and allow it into your life?

Or are you thinking “this can’t be real if it comes so easily”?  Or “this can’t be valuable if it has come so easily”?  Are you believing that struggle is a necessary component of your life?

Where can you be more open to the rose gardens, the divine breezes, and the magnificent oceans which come to you?

A few days ago, I listened to a recording of a class I taught.  I lost count of the number of times I said “um.” The next day, I had dinner with a friend who told me that she is a Toastmasters member and at a recent meeting, her job was to count the number of times a speaker said “um.”  This kind of coincidence happens so often that I’m not amazed by it any more.

I asked her if people could actually improve their “um” habit.  She assured me they could.  So, because I’m on the joy diet and taking risks, I’m joining her Toastmasters group.  I’ll have my “ums” formally counted.

They say that public speaking is one of the most stressful things you can do.  Public speaking without the crutch of “um” to regroup your thoughts seems more than stressful.  It seems impossible.

But, I’m not going to dwell on how nervous this thought gets me.  Nope.  I’m going to approach this playfully.  I intend to become completely absorbed in what I’m doing and to let go of the outcome.  I’ll, uh, keep you posted.

I bought these orchids yesterday from a street vendor.  My reward for a risk and well worth it, I’d say.  The risk didn’t turn out the way I wanted, but I got my treat anyway.

And, here are some more treats from my morning walk today.  An iguana suns himself on the seawall.

Biscayne Bay is clear and sparkling.

The bougainvilla are spectacular.

I love this door.  Looks like Rumi himself might live here.

Time is a precious commodity, way more valuable than diamonds or rubies or emeralds.  Today, despite a jam-packed schedule, I risked some of my time.

A friend from out-of-town and staying with me, called to say she was at work, an hour away, and she’d forgotten something critical for her day.  She couldn’t leave, and asked if I had the time to drive it to her.

Of course I didn’t have the time.  No way.  My mental to-do list immediately popped into my consciousness.  I’m teaching a joy diet class in a few hours, I’m in the middle of writing a blog post, my email is piling up, and there are a bunch of phone calls to make…. The list is endless, limited only by my ability to dream up things to add to it.  Besides, it’s rush hour, and it might take two hours.  Or longer if there’s an accident on the expressway….

Being on the joy diet, though, I noticed the discomfort I was feeling.  A quick assessment of the Truth revealed that I will never complete that to-do list, and I had an opportunity to be a real friend in need.  I told her I would do it.

I took a few extra minutes to assemble some Treats for my journey–a cup of hot tea and some lyrical cds for the road.  I also reminded myself to expect the traffic to be heavy, and not to be surprised or get upset when it actually was slow-going or there was an accident.

The extra few minutes for Treats was well worth it.  I enjoyed the drive and used it to do my 15 minutes of Nothing, and the rest of the time just to goof-off.  The tea and music were delightful, too.  And the look of relief on my friend’s face was priceless.

I drove home, finished preparing this morning’s class, and let the rest of the list wait.   Sometimes that’s what joy is about.

Don’t you find that anticipating a risk often makes it seem much more daunting than it really is?  How many opportunities in life do we miss, because we assume something is impossible, so we don’t even try?

Today, my Risk is to offer you a re-run instead of writing a brand new post.  I invite you to read something I wrote about courage some time ago.  Just click here.

Although I don’t practice law any more, I’m still an attorney, so I joined a team of volunteer lawyers helping at the polls today.  I stood for hours and my feet hurt and my back ached, but at least I could walk and move around and find shade.  The voters stood in line in the blazing sun for at least five hours. Many people had small children in tow.

Witnessing this was one of the most moving experiences of my life.  Black and white, young and old, Republicans and Democrats, all patiently and politely waiting together. People stood side-by-side chatting, even though they wore buttons from opposing candidates.  I didn’t see one complaint, one rude remark, or one argument.  No matter how this election turns out, this aspect of it has been phenomenal.

There was a group of five lawyers advising the hundreds of waiting voters.  In the past, I would have sought direction from one of the ones who had been there all week, since I was the newbie.   Being on the joy diet though, I decided to find my own niche, with my heart, not my head.  Now this may not seem like a really big deal to you, but I was there as a lawyer, and trust me, lawyers don’t typically work this way.

As I scanned the lines, I noticed that there were elderly, disabled, and ill folks waiting in line.  Apparently a security guard, who, to be sure, was trying to do his job, was turning these folks back to wait in line with everyone else.

I escorted two blind voters to the entrance.  The guard stood to block the door.  I gently told him that they were disabled and that I was taking them inside to find a place to wait.  He glanced at my ball cap emblazoned with the words “Florida Voting Rights Attorney,” and stepped aside.  They would still have to wait, but it would be in chairs, in the air-conditioning.

So that’s how I spent my day.  Several hours after I’d helped a severely disabled woman with lupus who was dragging a heavy wooden folding chair with her, I saw her exiting the polls.  When she saw me, she lit up.  “I voted honey. I made it.  Thank you so much,” she cried out as she hugged me.  And that was pure joy.

In furtherance of going off mental autopilot, which I wrote about yesterday, I’m examining all kinds of automatic, judgmental behavior in myself.  It feels really risky to let go of it, even though it offers about as much protection as a garlic necklace.

Today, I retired from automatically judging a person who really pushes my buttons.  I listened to him without a wall of defense and rejection.

The first few minutes took some discipline. My reactions against his words and thoughts and concepts are strong and arise instantaneously.  And it felt risky to let go.  As if my inner voice of rejection protected me.  Which is silly. With a bit of commitment, it got easier, especially when I could see my own silliness.

I’m amazed at how much judgment I still engage in.  I’m even more amazed at the time and energy I have when I let go of it.

Ironic, isn’t it, how the button-pushers in our lives are among our greatest teachers.

In this charged atmosphere four days before the elections, it’s really easy to judge and criticize those who disagree with us.  We build walls of safety around the rejection of large groups of other people, and seek companionship and comfort with those who believe as we do. Those with other viewpoints become strange and clueless.

For the last few days I’ve been trying to fully accept the other side.  Not to adopt their beliefs or positions or candidates as mine, but to let go of my judgment about what it means to believe differently than me.  It hasn’t been easy. I’m struggling with years of habitual thinking. But it does feel lighter and freer.

Going off of mental autopilot feels risky because it shifts our identity in a dramatic way.  But the joy diet requires it, at least my joy diet does.  Carrying my habitual judgments around feels like a heavy burden, draining my attention and compromising my joy.

Are you flying on mental autopilot?  Is it a burden?  How would it feel to let it go?

So, I’ve always been in charge of the Family Paperwork Ministry.  I could give you all of my reasons why (I was faster, it was more of a priority for me, I sat at a desk, I had a pen), but you’d see right through me.  You’d still call me a codependent enabler.  Registering for school evolved into proofreading homework, which evolved into proofing college essays and now, overseeing tax returns and apartment leases. Today, with no small amount of trepidation, I put my 23 year old son in charge of finalizing the details of his new health insurance.  My risk for the day—still feels scary, and it also feels just right.

How about you?  What do you do for others that they could be doing for themselves?  What would it feel like to let it go?  Would it bring you more joy, perhaps in the long run?

I knew what I had to do today.  The thought was scary.  I was really, really hesitant.  Is this the right decision? Can I be sure?  What if I make a mistake?

I’ve held a license as an educational therapist for about 10 years.   I thought, “Well even though I don’t want to do this work anymore, I should maintain this license, just in case….”

Just in case what?  I’ve spent so much of my life doing things just in case.  Now that I’m on the Joy Diet, just in case is not a sufficient reason to do something.  Just in case does not come from desire, it comes from fear.  Just in case is, in this situation, a joy killer.

So I just sent an email notifying my certifying company that I would not be renewing.  Simple.  Straightforward.  Direct.  It was scary to push the send button on my email.  My hands trembled a bit and I caught my breath.  And it feels fantastic.  Clean, honest, clear.

What are you doing just in case?