Saturday, April 6, 2013

Serendipitous lessons

You never know where life's biggest lessons are going to come from.  For me, this time, is was a microorganism that found its way into my gut.  Yep, that little critter just wrestled me to ground and fast last week.  I was outraged, the way some of us typically are right before we face new realities, or before we let go of the things that have been getting in our way.  I let go alright, about 15 times.  But that's not really the main point of my story.

First of all, for the first time since my holiday retreat days, I spent days not focused on all the ways I have come up short in my work and personal life.  All the things I'm not doing, all the "shoulds," all the short comings, all the what ifs.    That bug forced me to focus on one thing and one thing only...not vomiting.  I spent hours thinking about the position of my arms, legs, torso and head.  In some ways it was like yoga - ok, and in many ways it really wasn't like that at all.  But is was similar in that I was truly in my body, aware of the incredible systems that our bodies have in place to deal with all that we have to go through to stay alive.  I was captivated by my digestive track, and what I put mine through.  Listen, I eat pretty well.  I have changed my eating habits drastically in the past several years.  I didn't think I ride that system hard, but when all gears are in reverse lets' just say, it seems shocking to me that our little guts can process all that we dump down there.  I made a pact with myself:  little, tiny meals forever.  Eat like a bird!  Keep it clean, keep it simple.  Simple.  Simplicity.  Lesson # 1.

Secondly, after that bug pried my bony fingers from the day to day fretting over god knows what, it directed me towards this whole line of contemplation.  Once I could hold my head upright without too many props, I found myself diving into my iPad.   NOT to email or facebook, or leadership websites, but to topics that I am curious about.  Curiosity.  I read about China and Syria, the Chi of Running, Mary mother of Jesus, and more.  It was the most wonderful day (even feeling like a wet noodle, and with a sore gut) of exploration and enjoyment.  No agenda, just meandering.

That critter also showed me, frankly as other bugs have done before it, that health of any degree is such a hot commodity.  I have such gratitude for days of feeling good, for bodily systems that allow for ways of being and experiencing this world in new ways.  While the bug was holding me down on the sofa at home, it also began giving me a mental slide show of myself moving, running, playing tennis, walking, hiking...all things I am  blessed to be able to do so far in my life.  While I wasn't quite ready to get up and do any of that yet, I knew I would again.  And I knew that I would appreciate those abilities so much more than I did the day before the smack down.

I have spent so many minutes and hours of  my life fretting about my short comings, and focusing on  obstacles.  Let's face it, I am the best manufacturer of my own obstacles.  I can conjure them up and then put them right in my own way with the best of them.  I'm about ready to shut down that particular factory.

So bug, while I didn't welcome you at first, you and I made peace in the end.  Wow, that reminds me of my most favorite poem of all time.  The poem that helped save my life once upon a very dark time.  (below)

So, for today, bug lessons:

Be in your body.  Celebrate with gratitude all that it is doing every second of every day.  Respect that.

Be simple.  Live simply.  Let go of fabricated complications, from food to obstacle construction.  (Oh those Quakers, they know.)

Be curious.  Allow curiosity to lead the way.  Open up and welcome serendipitous learning.  Meander. (Even if it needs to scheduled!)

By the way, happy Serendipity weekend.  It's not all bad.

(And, thank you Rumi...)







The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

 
~ Rumi ~
 
 
(The Essential Rumi, versions by Coleman Barks)