Slowness In Action (Pt. 1)
We’re back to life as we know it, and I’m trying to carry my flu lessons with me everywhere I go.
I’m not jazzed about packing lunches and rushing out the door, but I’m also trying to respect the necessities of life for what they are.
It’s interesting, when you focus in on an idea, how the universe provides confirmation for you over and over again. I know enough about the law of attraction to realize that this is just the order of things, but I think I struck a chord this time. The variety and velocity of it all is stronger than before – there’s more energy behind it, as though my guides, or source, or God, or whatever life force you chose to identify is saying, “YES, finally…finally. Let us show you more.”
On a sunny afternoon last week, we decided to take the boys to the library. The dog also needed her now-daily walk (burning that winter cabin fever fluff), so we settled on splitting up. Our library shares a parking lot with a walking trail around a nature preserve, so Matt decided to lead the walk while I lead the library excursion and we let the kids choose which camp to be in. My only taker was Henry (and while he is my little mama’s boy of the group, my boys love the outdoors + pokemon go as much as they love picking out books + using the library computers so it could have gone many ways.)
I stood in line to pick up a few requests that had come in, and Henry settled into a computer within my eyesight…he’d turn to look at me every 30 seconds and give me a little wave. When I had my books (Lagom, and Only Love Today), I sat down next to him to wander through the library’s catalog while he played with the library’s stock of children’s games. When I’m not exactly sure what to look for, I pull up my GoodReads account, and scroll through my “to read” list that I’ve compiled over many wasted afternoons, sifting through virtual book covers and descriptions. There are 37 branches in our library system, scattered over 1,000 square miles, so the chances of finding a book from my list in my branch that hasn’t been checked out is pretty slim. I usually end up just submitting multiple requests, and then scanning the new book shelves. I actually ended up with a couple of hits, though – some of the more obscure spiritual reads I’m into are usually still sitting on shelves. So I scribbled their call numbers on the back of a receipt and ventured over to the stacks with my guy.
Maybe it’s just that books are one of the languages I speak, or that libraries feel like magical, energized places, but when I’m looking for a book, I sometimes catch a glimpse of another and feel lead to it. There’s been a few occasions when I’ll notice a book, move right past it because it wasn’t what I planned to get, and my eyes get pulled back to it over and over again until I feel like it’s Black Friday and the book is a 90% off in-season Kate Spade that I’d be stupid to leave behind. Every time that’s happened, I’ll get home and suddenly feel the urge to read THAT one first (even if I picked up a request that I was 46th in line for a couple months ago and went there solely to pick it up.) And it always happens that whatever was in that book was exactly what I needed at that time.
This is how I found Abraham Hicks. It’s how I learned about body language, and telementation, and found new authors that focus on the same life lessons I’m exploring.
On this trip, the book that almost jumped off the shelf at me was about Lily Dale. I thought it would be more of a historical account of its origins, and there was certainly some history there – but it was more about a journalist’s spiritual journey while visiting the Dale and the story of some people she met along the way. It was fascinating, and I flew through it in a just over a day. The reason I was intrigued in the first place, is that my friends and I are thinking of planning a night or two in Lily Dale this spring or summer. We try to travel together once a year, and it’s kind of outrageous that we’ve never been (it’s less than an hour’s drive from us), so I’ve been researching and asking around lately. I thought it would be fun to read up on the places and people that Lily Dale is known for.
Only, the book gave me more much than that. Some of the words quoted from Lily Dale personalities affirmed things I’d learned from other spiritual sources. And on one of the final pages of this book, there was this:
“I didn’t have to treat life as a battle I was always about to lose. The more I tried floating through the day, drifting towards what I wanted to do and away from what I didn’t, the easier work became.” *
It was the summation of the author’s journey in this book – a high-strung, relentless questioner (such as myself) that was lead to taking life more slowly, trusting that she is supported by the many life forces around her, understanding that she will be lead where she is meant to be, and that when she lets go of the tension and gripping in her pursuits, they come to her naturally. It’s the same journey I’m on, and it was presented to me in spiritual terms (something I’m highly tuned to and interested in lately) and in a book about a place that I hope to visit this year. The universe has wildly accurate ways of giving us examples and lessons in the things that we need to learn, when we need to learn them, and in terms that specifically speak to our individual selves.
I’m also reading Only Love Today by Rachel Macy Stafford – I’ve ready a couple of her other books and enjoyed them. The format of this book is kind of a morning practice or devotional style – you read a quick 1.5 – 2 pages of inspiration to carry throughout your day. I typically read a few of them at a time, and I feel like every single one hits the nail on the head for this current phase of my life.
Like this:
“Today I will be mindful of who and what I push away in the name of efficiency, productivity, and distractibility. I will pause before I decide I am “too busy” to meaningfully connect, converse, or create. At least once today, I will stop myself before I say no to what really matters.”**
Or this:
“Today I’ve decided that showing my family I’m happy to see them is important to me. I vow to let go of my distractions long enough to create a sun delay, which means: no matter what I am in the middle of doing, no matter how inconvenient it is to look up, no matter how busy I think I am, when my loved ones walk into the room or return after a separation, my world is going to stop for a moment so love from me can shine in their eyes and hearts.”**
And especially this:
“So to the Noticers of the world and those who are blessed to raise them, I say this: Thank you for being. You are an anomaly in this fast-paced world. We need you. We desperately need you… to notice the birds and the bruises beneath the skin, to notice the change of seasons and the one being left out, to notice his name and remember to say it with love, to notice the ripples on the water and the color of the sky after sunset, to notice the barista who could use a kind word or two. Thank you, Noticers, big and small. You are the thriving blossoms in a concrete world, reminding us to stop and feel our beating hearts every chance we get.” **
(By the way, Henry is my Noticer.)
And these messages are coming to me, not just through books, or through days committed to my bed with fever when my mind plays around with thoughts in boredom, but in articles shared on Facebook and the types of posts my Instagram feed seems to have lately. It comes in the moments when one of my little guys has lots of questions about how Peeps are made, or where squirrels live, and I feel nudged to drop everything and talk to them about it and follow it up with a video. Then I watch them impart their new knowledge on grandparents, and their teachers, or the parents of their friends (really any willing adult with working ears), and I’m so glad I took those teachable moments and ran with them.
And suddenly I am one of those weirdos, saying prayers of thanks for catching the Flu.
I read a poem the other day that totally summed it up, and it might sound dramatic – because it hints as brushes with death putting things in perspective, and I don’t pretend to think that we nearly died from having the flu. It was simply the act of being bedridden and forced to concede to rest that gave me these revelations. But it feels worthy of sharing. Illness or reminders of death need not be dramatically fatal – only enough to remind you of the delicate balances in life, and how backwards we view our days. The things we stress about are minuscule, while the little things we ignore are actually the massive stuff of life.
“There are so many ways to feel dissatisfied
so many different needs to meet
so many goals to keep striving toward
so many problems to try to fix
so much of the past you wish you could change
so many fears about the future.
No wonder you feel overwhelmed
like a traveler carrying too many bags
with too many paths to choose from
who has to keep stopping to rest
until he can’t go on, and collapses.
How could you ever be happy?
Life’s too demanding and complicated.
But then – the shock of an illness or an accident.
Death creeps behind you and swipes you hard across your back
awakening you from your torpor.
Suddenly the fog dissolves
and you can see the narrow ledge you’re walking
– the one you’ve always been walking –
between life and death.
And now it’s all so simple and makes perfect sense –
life is temporary and fragile, precious beyond measure,
and life contains nothing except this present moment
this beautiful bright river of experience.
And suddenly those needs stop niggling at you
the guilt and fear stop gnawing
the phantoms of the past can’t scare you anymore
there’s nothing to worry about or to be afraid of.
Everything obliterated
but the glory of this moment
and the grandeur of the world itself.
And you know that this is all there is
that this is where fulfillment lies
and everything else is only a shadow play of the mind.” ***
*from Lily Dale, The True Story of the Town That Talks to the Dead by Christine Wicker
** from Only Love Today by Rachel Macy Stafford
*** from The Calm Center by Steve Taylor