Tag Archives: NaBloPoMo

Change What You Can Change

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I don’t know about you, kind and gentle reader, but I’m with Abbie: I’m ready for this election to be over. I don’t like competition, get no joy from a good debate, am so uncomfortable when people are angry and fighting and upset, and hate to argue. I remember once, sitting at an intersection where opposing sides were picketing across the street from each other, random people yelling from their cars or honking, so much noise and chaos, and I asked myself “which side would you be on?” and the answer made me laugh out loud, “I’d rather make everybody cookies.”

And it’s true, I’m a peacemaker. I always have been. It’s my nature. I avoid discussing religion or politics, including here on my blog. Philosophy and faith I’ll talk about, but I steer clear of anything that would spark a real dispute. I don’t want anyone to miss the more important message, to be cheated out of a kindness because they disagree with my politics. I want my blog to be a safe place for every reader, for them to come here and realize they are not alone, to inspire good things to happen.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion on things. But stronger than my opinion is my commitment to promoting love and kindness, the sense that our time would be better spent changing what we can change than arguing about things we can’t control.

I’ve read a few things in this past week that have said it better than I could. One is Courtney Carver’s Make Your Vote Count on her blog Be More With Less, in which she says

If you want your vote to count, to really matter:

  • Vote for your health by eating good food, mostly plants.
  • Vote for your community by volunteering with local organizations.
  • Vote to feed hungry people by giving freely.
  • Vote for your friendships by saying “I’m sorry” and “I love you”.
  • Vote for your happiness by taking a walk.
  • Vote for your children by listening to them.

Your health and happiness is not dependent on who will be sitting in the Oval Office. Policy may change, but you will be ok. Vote with your dollars. Vote with your time. Vote with your heart. Make it count.

And then Susan Piver posted Only Us: Beyond Republican and Democrat, in which she says

Right now, we have a chance to take a view that is so much larger than Obama or Romney, Us or Them, My Way or The Highway. Without budging an inch in what we believe and whom we support, we could take a moment, just a millisecond, to imagine that the “other” side feels as much passion, despair, longing, and fear about the election as we do. We could care about each other, American to American… In these attitude shifts, even if we can only hold on to them for a moment, everything is possible. We could at least try.

We are all in this together, we can make a difference in the world, ease suffering, even if it’s just our own, even if it’s only temporary–we can at least try.

One of the greatest enigmas of human behavior is the way we isolate ourselves from each other. In our misguided perception of separation we assume that others are not sharing a similar experience of life. We imagine that we are unique in our eccentricities or failures or longings…When we don’t share the secret ache in our hearts—the normal bewilderment of being human—it turns into something else. Our pain, and fear, and longing, in the absence of company, become alienation, and envy, and competition. ~Elizabeth Lesser, The Open Secret

Elizabeth Lesser “The Open Secret” from Omega Institute on Vimeo.

We have so much opportunity to make a difference. Our true power as citizens, as humans goes so far beyond a single vote or series of elections. Once these events are over, our community, our world will still have the same issues. People will still be hungry, not have access to clean water or adequate medical care, there will be illness and dis-ease, we will still be confused about so many things–the same suffering as the day before. And we’ll still have the exact same chance to change it or ignore it, to help or start an argument or walk away.

Change what you can change. One thing we can all change for certain is ourselves, so start there. Beyond that, get involved with someone’s good work, or start a project of your own. If you need ideas, here’s a list of people and groups doing good work:

Donate to Charity : Water, I am donating my birthday to them this year.

Join Susan Piver’s Open Heart Project. This will help with changing yourself, or rather becoming brilliantly aware of who you already are, awake and kind and wise and strong.

Donate to Heifer International, one of my favorite charities.

Donate to or volunteer with your local food bank.

Give to the Sandy Relief Effort.

Go to Kiva or Kickstarter and find a project or person to help.

The Dalai Lama said, “My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.” I agree with that statement, “I resemble that remark,” and would add one more thing to it: my politics are simple–kindness. In that spirit, I am working to change what I can change, to help who I can help, to do what good I can do, and I so hope you will join me, my kind and gentle reader.

P.S. Looks like I answered the NaBloPoMo prompt a day early: “What are your thoughts about tomorrow’s election in the United States?”

Book Writing Saturday

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Sanctuary: a place of refuge or safety, a consecrated place where sacred objects are kept.

Yesterday in my writing group, we did a guided meditation in which we constructed a creative sanctuary. Somewhere we could go whenever we needed it, imagined yes, but tangible and whole nonetheless. I went into this the same way I do everything else: having already made up my mind. If I were to have such a place, of course it would be a cabin in the mountains.

The first part of the meditation was to imagine a path leading to our sanctuary. What manifested for me was a path of sand. I have a friend who just got back from Hawaii, so I assumed this was placing my sanctuary in a tropical location, and I resisted. This was not right, the path should be stone or dirt. I tried to force it, to see that instead, but every time I tried to place that image over what was already in my mind, it immediately dissolved and the sand path asserted itself again.

When we reached the part of the meditation where we were to go inside and look around, it all made sense. There were two full walls of windows and as soon as I saw the view, I new it was right: the beach at Waldport. Not a tropical location at all, but rather the place where half my heart lives.

I love Colorado. My job is here, I own a home here, my tiny little family lives here, and I am in love with the beauty of this land, specifically northwestern Colorado–the mountains, the Poudre River, the animals, the rocks, the sky and the trees. I love living in Fort Collins, having the university campus and Old Town both so close, but also living far enough north that it’s not unusual to see a fox running down the road in the middle of the afternoon, or to have neighbors that have horses and chickens. I love having so many parks and wild places in town to walk the dogs, and so many close places to hike.

And yet, half of my heart lives in Waldport, Oregon. Every other year, we try to plan a month long vacation there, and the rest of the time, I dream about it, miss it. I’m not sure I could ever again live year round with the gray sky and rain of the Pacific Northwest, but it still is home to me. It made total sense that if I would imagine a sanctuary, this is the place my heart would wish for, the location my mind would imagine.

Even though the location made total sense, I was surprised by what I found inside. My creative process usually seems so focused on a goal, on a product, I expected that to be the case in my sanctuary. We were guided to see the things we were working on, to imagine them, but what I saw was more about process and practice: a yoga mat, a comfortable and cozy place to read and dream (a huge white heavy cotton sectional couch facing the windows), a meditation shrine and cushion, art supplies and a computer, stacks of journals and books, a large kitchen with a long farm table that could seat at least 10, either for dinner or making art or simply “shooting the shit.” Rather than a private art studio with evidence of many completed projects, it was a retreat space that could be used by just me or welcome a larger group.

The NaBloPoMo prompt for yesterday was “If you could live anywhere, where would it be?” The clear answer is I would live most of the year in Fort Collins, Colorado, and spend summers in Waldport, Oregon. I dream of a day when I have a real sanctuary on the beach there, one that I can use but also share with others who need a retreat space, a safe place to rest and dream and play, a place of comfort, a space to practice, a sanctuary.