Resurrection 2020: We are the ones we have been waiting for...

A HOPI ELDER SPEAKS*

“You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour. 

Now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are things to be considered…
 

Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in right relation?
Where is your water?
Know your garden.
It is time to speak your Truth.
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader.

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, “This could be a good time! There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly.  Know the river has its destination.  The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water.  And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally. Least of all, ourselves.  For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.”

“The time of the lone wolf is over.  Gather yourselves!”

“Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration. “

 “We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.”

* Hopi Elder Prophecy, June 8, 2000

We are in Holy Week in the Christian and Jewish traditions.  The Hopi elders tell us to step beyond our fears into the river, running fast with change, uncertainty, and therefore extraordinary possibility.  Think of this as a roller coaster ride.  We will feel all the feels.  So, will everyone else.  

But remember, we were born for this time.  Maybe my generation, the boomers is not the greatest generation, but could it yet become so?  To my millennials:  truth be told, I have always thought you came with some super power.  Maybe the adults around you didn’t nurture it, but no time for regret.  You got what you got, and now it is time to share that super power and lead us through your deep commitment to what is right, true and wise.  We all have emotional courage even if we aren’t aware of it.  It is a choice.  A choice to do hard things.  Gen Z, the best antidote for the depression that has plagued you, is small daily actions. Colored markers to make a to do list on unlined paper.   A single note to an elder in a nursing home  or someone in prison matters.  

To all of us:  We  are the ones  we have been waiting  for.  We are enough.  We are more than enough.  We are mighty.

5.19.20 Update:  

If you, YOU, you, really believed that your own sweet self is the one you have been waiting for.  If you believed you were enough for these Covid19 times.   If you believed you were mighty, how could you put that into even a small action today?  For some of us, we might give ourselves a much needed break.  Take a walk, listen to a podcast because this gives us permission to take care of ourselves for the marathon we are running right now.  For others, we might  pitch an idea to someone we have been holding back because of self-doubt.  After all the river is running fast and even though our idea is a different than the past, we aren’t in Kansas any more Dorothy so why not try it?  Or maybe some of us will start building a bridge to others we want to travel this river with.  So, back to the original questions above…what small action might you take today if you believed in yourself,  that you are more than enough for the times that are upon us?

Dialoguing with a Poem

Dear Readers, I am an apprentice to David Whyte’s Invitas: A Path to Conversational Leadership.  I have followed his work for nearly  25 years now.  I have learned to be in dialogue with any and everything , so too, with poems.  In fact listening to David recite and riff on a poem puts one in a dialogue with their own sweet soul as well as  their heart and mind.This morning I decided to do the dialogue on the page (blog)  in  honor of Valentine’s day and the celebration of love.  Hearing this poem almost 25 years ago with Leslie Lanes, ushered in my first experience of an ecstatic moment.  A moment where everything belonged, including me.  Just as it was.  Just as I was.   If that is not Love I am not sure what Love is.  To be able  "to gather all our flaws in celebration” is to truly unconditionally love all of ourselves, to love how we were made.  To love how the world is made.  In honor of Valentine's Day, I offer you this:The link for the poem without commentary can be found here.  I suggest you read it first and then come back to the blog and read my dialogue with it.  As you read it, note your own inner conversation.  There is no single way to dialogue with a poem.  There are as many ways as there are people.https://www.davidwhyte.com/where-many-rivers-meet/

The Faces at Braga   by David Whyte

Commentary by Nancy C. WondersIn monastery darkness by the light of one flashlightthe old shrine room waits in silence. While above the doorwe see the terrible figure,fierce eyes demanding. “Will you step through?”  Will I step through the glories of youth and a well-functioning body and quick intelligence into this new territory?  The territory that holds decline, disease and disappearance?  Will I?  Good God this is hard.  My mind knows I cannot choose anything else.  I do not want my face to be the face of an old woman chasing a time that is decades gone.  If that is what is behind door #1, it is not for me.  It is humiliating.  It is shame.  I had so much of that in my youth at the mouths of my mother and the nuns.  No, I cannot go that way. I cannot return to those youthful days when I barely appreciated the beauty of my form, the brilliance of my quick mind nor the grace of a body I did not have to pay attention to because it ran just fine!  That is gone.  But door #2?  What waits there? And the old monk leads us,bent back nudging blackness,prayer beads in the hand that beckons. We light the butter lampsand bow, eyes blinking in thepungent smoke, look up without a word, see faces in meditation,a hundred faces carved above,eye lines wrinkled in the hand-held light.  That’s true!  So many more wrinkled faces than mine.  So many more who went before me could I see them as … Such love in solid wood!Taken from the hillsides and carved in silence,they have the vibrant stillness of those who made them.  Engulfed by the pastthey have been neglected, but throughsmoke and darkness they are like the flowers we have seen growingthrough the dust of eroded slopes,their slowly opening faces turned toward the mountain.  So I too must turn my face toward the mountain of age, even with my youthful spirit, my body is asking other things of me now.  It demands me love it, touch it, stretch it, move it.Carved in devotiontheir eyes have softened through age …oh please let me soften…please do not let me harden…and their mouths curve through delight of the carver’s hand. Delight?  There could be delight in this paring back?  This essentialism.   BUT my life mantra has been DO NOT MAKE ME CHOOSE and it would seem this aging stuff is all about choosing.  AND I have a lousy picker (chooser).  It does not want to choose. It wants everything and mostly all at once.  Sheesh…how can I possibly walk this road?  I truly know virtually nothing about this way of being. If only our own faceswould allow the invisible carver’s handto bring the deep grain of love to the surface.  Shoot, I knew it, what is going to have to go is my ability to skim along, to flit from flower to flower.  instead I am going to have to pay deep attention to what I want above all else moment by moment.  To choose and abide within my current limits.I do not have time to read the NY Times or the Atlantic Magazine from cover to cover.   I can no longer follow all my lovely random curiosities.  Well actually I can, but I must accept that this means something else will need to be sacrificed.  It takes me more time to do what I did on almost everything.  "If only my own face would allow the carver’s hand (aging) to bring the deep grain of love to the surface."If only we knewas the carver knew, how the flawsin the wood led his searching chisel to the very core, my flaw:  my mind that does not live within limits…how?we would smile tooand not need faces immobilizedby fear and the weight of things undone.  It is true, I worry about this more and more, “what am I forgetting?” The constant backlog of work or home responsibilities not tended to yet? When we fight with our failing.  This was the first of David’s poems that I fell hard for.  I had a transcendent moment and it began on this line.  I (and others I might add) have fought with how I am made as long as I can remember.  And…we ignore the entrance to the shrine itselfand wrestle with the guardian, fierce figure on the side of good. And as we fightour eyes our hooded with griefand our mouths are dry with pain.  So much unnecessary suffering from this all my life…even still.  But there is slowly emerging a small voice that talks back a bit to that fierce figure…there is not yet an Archbishop Desmond TuTu (Made for Goodness) residing within me that is FOR me on a consistent basis, but there is something that says:  "Don't talk to my friend Nancy that way, it doesn't help her."  And that is everything. If only we could give ourselvesto the blows of the carvers hands, I wonder, what is it I refuse to give myself over too?   What if it is a kind of faith/trust in these very things I am struggling with?the lines in our faces would be the trace lines of rivers feeding the seawhere voices meet, praising the featuresof the mountain and the cloud and the sky. Our faces would fall away my face of productivity, of “earning,” of “the need to be deserving,” of competence…maybe if I could finally trust that as I am made, I am enough for my life…I could indeed grow youngeruntil we, growing younger toward deathevery day, would gather all our flaws in celebration  to merge with them perfectly,impossibly, wedded to our essence,full of silence from the carver’s hands. May it be so." src="blob://www.nancywonders.com/1b966a48-e3cd-4ff8-8fd1-890eda11c993" alt="image001.png" class="Apple-web-attachment Singleton" style="opacity: 1;">

“Every day when I awake I am torn between saving the world and savoring it…”

As we stand at the gateway, a summer stretching out in front of us, this quote is particularly meaningful to me.   Full quote:  "Everyday when I awake, I am torn between saving the world and savoring it.  It makes it hard to plan the day."And that reminds me of another poem by David Whyte What to Remember When Waking where the poet states 

"...What you can plan

is too small

for you to live.

What you can live

wholeheartedly 

will make plans

enough

for the vitality 

hidden in your sleep. ..."

Is there a kind of planning that is more like a conversation with a person?  Where no one leads, you aren't leading and life isn't leading but you are co-creating the dance together?  I believe there is.  Conversational planning may be the secret to 21st century well-being, whether planning your family's summer or your organization's vision and mission for the next 3 to 5 years.Recently, I lost a most dear soul friend.    It reminded me of the futility of a plan that does not include the following:

1. Interruptions
2. The random...things taking a surprise turn (positive and negative).
3. Trust in oneself and life.

The last one is particularly important I think, because I cause myself unnecessary suffering when I get out ahead of "now" and tell myself a story about a possible future that is not here.  But when I am able trust the unknown (unplanned interruptions and the random), what C.G.Jung called God, only then can I stay present and fully available to this moment instead of my story about this moment.  How do I trust the unknown and random?  By trusting that I can meet whatever life is bringing.  I Part of what makes this a bit easier is staying in this moment where I can't truly see if what is happening is actually good or bad, in the long run.  What I can know in this moment is only that I like it or I don't.  I want it or do not.  But I can't actually know how I will feel about it 20 years from now.  You see until our last breath, we are all always in the middle of a long play.  So this "detour" or "setback" might actually be a kind of divine intervention giving me the chance to pause and relook at what I am  doing or where I am heading.  If you don't believe in Divine intervention, no worries, you can still take a pause and ask yourself the question, "How is this potentially a gift to me?"  In other words, use it as Divine intervention giving you the chance to pause and regroup.  Even if it is not!In that pause, you can ask yourself questions, like:

• "Am I all in?"
•  "Do we have anything nagging us that we keep turning away from?"
•  "How is this actually a good thing?  Even though I still don't like it.  

By the way trusting the unknown or trusting Life, doesn't mean I don't get to feel, sad, mad and/or scared.  But if along side those feelings, I can squeeze in a little curiosity and wonder via exploratory questions (like those above), the whole thing opens up again and I can move forward with more confidence and commitment.  Not in outcome.  No one gets to have that.  Confidence and commitment in myself and my direction, come what may.So back to 21st century conversational planning.  What exactly does that mean?  It means planning expecting a partner (Life/the Unknown Future) that will ultimately help you create more than you could have without her.  Planning for interruptions, detours and reversals.  Keeping the end in sight, but holding the "how" and the "when" loosely.  And trust yourself, especially that vitality hidden in your sleep and your dreams. 

"All you undisturbed cities, have you not longed for the enemy?" Rilke

This line of (from a Rilke poem from his Book of Hours) arrests me.  I heard it read by the poet David Whyte at the opening of our second Invitas learning experience near his home on Whidbey Island off the coast of Washington State, almost a month ago.  It was evening, there had been wonderful food, wine and conversation.  This was not his first or only poem to share.  But when he delivered it, I felt as though it reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders and said…”YOU, Nancy, undisturbed Nancy, haven’t you longed for the enemy?”  It was personal and it implicated me.  It still does.   Why?  And what does that line mean?  Who longs for the enemy?  Hmmmm…what if I do?  I mean literally the enemy is disturbance.  Because the city of Nancy Clarie Wonders is undisturbed.   And that is true.  Other than my clients bringing me their disturbances, my city is pretty quiet, tucked in.  How did this happen?  Why did this happen? First question: how it happened was I arranged this life as it is.  I made all the choices so I created a life with little disturbance. Why?  Well, honestly because I had had so much disturbance for almost a decade, I think I just wanted to rest, to live in my little walled city (which is actually what the poet was seeing when he wrote the poem.).   And I am so glad I did, not just because I was exhausted from constant change and seriously needed the rest but also because I had never lived my life in this contented and calm place.  It was and is lovely.  Helps me understand why we wall ourselves off.  YET, I can feel something stirring deep within me, like the bulbs under the ground putting down roots and sending up shoots.  I am ready for the enemy.  I am ready for an intimate relationship again or some kind of challenge or learning that disturbs my self sufficiency and clarity.As the song Being Alive by Steven Sondheim states so beautifully…. Make me alive, make me confusedMock me with praise, let me be usedVary my days…One can be alone within a marriage or a family.  Those folks in the walled in city had others with them but…still the poet asks them…do they long for the enemy?Yes, when disturbed...I fuss. But do I truly want to be disturbed?  If I am honest,  I am a house divided here.  I do and I don’t.   And yet, I know I only grow through these disturbances and I know that we humans are built for change and growth, even while we/I resist.  Likes a ship, I am safe in harbor but that’s not what ships were built for.  Nor was I!  Oh goodness, here goes! 

"When you are very sad, the only thing to do is to go learn something."

"When you're very sad, the only thing to do is to go learn something."  Merlin to Arthur in The Once and Future King.  (Full passage below).For those of you reading this who are intimately familiar with loss and sadness right now, this is particularly for you.   But it is for the rest of us too.  For those of us who are sad about the world, or about health issues, or a lost love, or maybe just "what might have been" we need to learn something too.  Why does learning help? I will answer that with a story.  When my 89 year old father died about 10 years ago he didn't give us much warning.  On Thursday we were told his lab results and he was gone by Saturday night.  My mother had a very difficult time processing that her husband of 50+ years was gone and to compound matters, 30 days later she was told she was in the early stages of dementia.  When it rains it pours.  AND it surely did on our sweet mom.My parents history was complicated as all marriages are, in one particular way.  My mother had a long list of "honey do's" that my ordinarily kind and sweet father adamantly refused to do.  Go figure!  So my wise and loving brother who was equally stunned by the loss of his father and best friend came over every week for two years and took something off the list of "honey do's".  And then when it was complete, he started coming up with things to create, to add to her home that he suspected she would really enjoy.  My mom never truly fell apart in the ways we all thought she would and certainly had every right too.  I believe the love and attention she received from my sisters and I was a part of that but I truly know in my heart that having something new to look forward to every week told her hurting soul, that while life held loss and endings, it was not just that, it also held discovery and beginnings.  My brother was as wise as Merlin, in the face of the biggest ending in my mother's life, those constant new beginnings helped her through that very rocky passage.  So too with learning something new.  It fills you with beginnings and with discovery.  Learning is not just good for us as we age because it keeps our minds agile it also keeps our hearts and spirits young.From the Master himself, in his own words:  “The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That's the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.” ― T.H. White, The Once and Future King