aging

Being Soft

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

For my entire life, I have been hard. I have worked hard. In school, I studied hard. I have been hard on myself by creating high expectations of myself. I have been hard on others by projecting the expectations I have for myself on them. I have tended to a strict moral code. I have been a master of discipline, persistence, tenacity, and work ethic. I hold myself to the highest of integrity – while expecting others to do the same. I have been hard on my physical, emotional, and mental self by forcing my body into my own dysmorphic idea of “perfect weight and size,” by stuffing my emotions (don’t let them see you cry), by covering deep hurt with rage and unmet needs with resentment. I love deeply, but when wronged, the ax falls. Because of life’s many heartbreaks and betrayals, I have built a shield of armor around me in an effort to keep myself safe.

All this hardness has given me the illusion of being safe and made me feel like I was meeting society’s expectations of achievement.

We are conditioned, after all, that we are only valued based on what we achieve.

Straight A students are lauded by parents, teachers and other authority figures (while being despised by their fellow students for being a smarty pants and a showoff). Valedictorians get into good schools and receive scholarships. Those who earn a doctoral degree secure positions of prestige at universities. Skinny girls are more loved and popular than those with curves.

Right!?

WRONG!

If there is anything that life has taught me, it is this:

Our value has absolutely nothing to do with how we look, what we do, or what we have achieved. Instead, our value is intrinsic in our very being.

As the prophet Isaiah quoted Source as saying:

You are precious and glorious in my sight, and I love you. (Isaiah 43: 4)

As I have increasingly come to understand this and have done the work of healing the wounds within me that have then allowed the Love within me to be more fully known, what has been hard in me has become more soft. I no longer seek after a size 6 body (menopause took care of ever thinking that would once again be a possibility). Instead, I’m working on accepting a curvaceous post-menopausal form. I’m no longer seeking after achievement, recognition, or fame. Instead, I’ve learned to embrace the gift of invisibility along with the precious few who can actually see me. I’ve come to understand that my work in the world is mostly done on invisible planes and what is done in this world, is meant for a rare and precious few. I’m still disciplined as I find I do better with a structure of some sort in place, but I’m also more flexible with my time and can even embrace DOING NOTHING (gasp!). I’m more forgiving of myself and of others (though the betrayal rule remains in place – betray me or take advantage of my generosity and I reserve the right to sever that connection). My heart is wide but fragile. I reserve the right to protect it as I see fit.

Being soft is also a mindset. Instead of walking like an elephant through the world, can I move more gently? Instead of always hurrying, can I begin to slow down? Instead of punishing myself with all of my conditioned shoulds (I should be able to drive when and where I want. I should go outside. I should take a walk. I should…..), can I be more kind in my expectations of self and allow myself to simply be?

After a life of being hard, I think it’s time I embrace being soft.

Endings

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

I’m writing this for the sake of transparency and to be open and honest about the vulnerability that comes with endings.

Endings: It seems that the work I have passionately nurtured over the past thirty years is coming to an end. I’m not going into the details of this because the details are boring and unimportant. What matters is that many people have been served and found benefit in my in-person and online courses and training programs. I am grateful to have been able to serve in this way and for the creative inspiration that brought these courses and services into being.

Endings: are weird. I should be sad, but I’m not. I have been sad and the grief has gone from despair to terror to writhing, to surrender. Today, I find myself resigned. As St. Paul said, “I’ve fought the good fight. (2 Timothy 4:7)” I’ve been obedient to the inner guidance that compelled me to create these courses and share them. I’ve done what I know how to do to extend invitations for people to participate. I’ve shown up as a facilitator and guide. For a time, people showed up to enthusiastically participate. Over time, that has dwindled. Now there is nothing.

Endings: It’s ok. “To everything there is a season….turn, turn, turn…” But I have to ask, what comes after reaping?

Endings: Nothing. Nothing comes after reaping.  After reaping is fallow time. It’s a time to rest and to wait. It’s a time to simply be. For now, this is what I’m doing. I know better than to beat bushes and chase after potential new opportunities. I know better than to try to hold up something that is already dead. I know better than to force something that is not yet ready to come into being.

Endings: Waiting in the no-thing is hard. Unfinished sorrows come up to be revisited. “Shoulda, coulda, woulda’s” whisper in our ears. With nothing to do we grow restless and impatient. We are tempted to try to “make things happen” when we are really only supposed to be anchored firmly in the void. Fears around survival make their appearance. “How will you pay your bills?  How will you cover rent? What will you do about money?” We are conditioned to act, but during these fallow times, our conditioning no longer serves.

Endings: Wait. Watch. Listen. Be present to whatever faces of grief and temptation show themselves. Refrain from doing or taking action until whatever is coming to take the place of what is ending shows itself. And know that the new, when it comes, will be obvious and exactly what I need at this place in my journey for whatever time I have left on this planet.

Endings: are a blessing for they clear the way for something new and better to take its place – often something we might never expect for ourselves and potentially something beyond our wildest dreams. I am willing to surrender to this ending so that new life might come in – whatever that new life might be.

Endings: another thing I’ve learned is that I am not in charge. Source/God alone knows what it has planned for me. “Let it be done to me according to your word.”

PS: for those who will want to worry, I’m really ok. Sad, yes. Unsure about what is to come, yes. And while I don’t exactly know what this ending will fully look like, it’s been a long-time coming. I’ve experienced endings before and know that here too, something is coming to take its place. It just hasn’t yet shown itself. Without my interference, it will and I will know it when it arrives. Thank you for your kind thoughts and support through this time of unknowing. Love, Lauri.

Wise Council of Elders

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

In a few days I will be turning 60.  Past thirty, I haven’t really cared about age. I still don’t except that I kinda feel like I’m done. Not “done-done,” just without any sort of compass, map, itinerary or plan. What does one do and where does one go when you’ve already done all you set out to do – and then some?

  • I completed a college degree and went back to school for several more.
  • I’ve had many jobs.
  • I got married and divorced.
  • I bore and raised two amazing children who are pretty wonderful adults.
  • I’ve written and published eleven books.
  • I’ve created and taught the curriculum of over thirty separate classes.
  • I’ve guided many through my Magdalene training program.
  • I’ve counselled another many.
  • I’ve created videos and podcasts.
  • I’ve rebuilt my website too many times to count.
  • I’ve made many friends (and left a few behind).

With a few exceptions, I planned for very little of this!  Things came my way with an invitation to pursue them, and I did – with a passion and vigor.

Now, the slate is clean. My books and courses will always be there and available for those who feel so-called, and I don’t feel the call to create any more. I’m always available for counsel. My children will always be a part of my life, as will a handful of friends. Other than that, I have no specific plans, and nothing that is beckoning pursuit.

Instead, all I have before me is the present moment and whatever meets me there. When inspiration to write comes, I follow. I continue to work at my “chop wood carry water” job. And my practice continues to be the central focus of each day – actually each moment of every day, included in that practice are the only words that seem to speak to me now – those of the Tao Te Ching.

Other than that – nadda. Unless we count the dream that occurred the other night:

In the dream, I was shown a seemingly empty room.  The room was rectangular in shape with shining maple-colored floors. As I was being shown the room I heard the words, “Wise Council of Elders,” and then felt a tap on my knee that awakened me to see the truth of the room.  It was not empty but filled with ageless women and men of all races. I immediately came to see that I was one among them. I had always been one among them, only now I was awakened to this truth.

Then I woke up.  I know better than to ponder the meaning of the dream, so instead, I am simply sitting with the invitation and the awareness. What does it mean to be one among the Wise Council of Elders?  I guess time will tell.

My dear spiritual brother Bill Tonnis sent me his most recent song that reflects the sentiments in this blog:

Please enjoy Bill’s inspiring music!

Embracing Fallow Times

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

In the natural world, there are cycles to all living things. A seed finds its way to the soil. The nutrients of the soil combined with the sun and rain support germination and growth. The plant flowers and eventually bears fruit. Then the plant either enters a state of dormancy, or the plant dies. Some plants are made to live only one growing season. Others return each year to bear flower and fruit. Some return every other year. And a rare few enter a dormant period for many years, while some require drastic states of nature for germination and growth. The seeds of the Giant Sequoia, for example, only germinate after they have been subjected to fire, and many desert plants sequester underground, often for many years, until the rain comes.

Written in the DNA of every living thing is the cycle of its natural life – a time to live and a time to die, a time to work and a time to rest. The same is true of human beings, especially as it relates to the gifts (fruits) we bring to our lived experience. In the same way that our life has a beginning and an end, so too do our cycles of productivity and creativity.

In a world in which we are conditioned to believe that our value is dependent upon our productivity, when we find ourselves in fallow times, we are prone to judging ourselves and forcing ourselves to produce and create. The harder we work to produce, the more frustrated we become and the more our creativity suffers. Like the fruit of a plant, our creative contributions to the human experience cannot be forced. Whether our creative contribution is parenthood, painting, teaching, counseling, writing, singing, speaking, managing, organizing, healing, providing service, administrating, craftsmanship, or any other outward form of producing, it cannot be forced. This is especially true in the times we are meant to lie dormant.

Dormancy most often comes after times of intensive output – times in which we have been actively producing. As is true of nature, dormancy can also follow times of enormous stress or after we’ve suffered trauma. Like a plant that has finished its growing season, or that has been traumatized by the violence of nature (flood, drought, etc.), we need time to rest and recover before we are able to produce again.

Contrary to our capitalistic conditioning, fallow times are not bad. Instead, they are deeply necessary for our own health and for the good of humanity and the planet. When fallow times present themselves, we do ourselves good by surrendering to them – which I know is quite difficult.

To embrace and receive the fruits of our own periods of dormancy, we need to undo all the conditioning that has told us our value is based on our productivity. We have to exorcise ourselves of the messages that suggest that in surrendering to dormancy, we are being lazy, that we might be depressed, or that there is something wrong with us and with our inaction. We have to silence the voices both outside of us and in our own heads that insist that doing nothing is wrong.

During times of dormancy, the only task required of us is to simply be. To be with the inaction. To endure the naysaying. To dive into our discomfort. To resist the pressure to do and allow our souls the precious time they need to rest and restore. Only in surrendering to the fallow time do the seeds of new life that are waiting within us receive the nourishment and energy they need to come forth in their own divinely-ordained time – and not a second before. In embracing our fallow times, we are providing the foundation upon which our next cycle of life will bloom vibrantly and abundantly – if only we have the patience and trust to wait.

Learning Not to Care

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 3 Comments

(aka Cultivating the Fine Art of Detachment)

Life is a funny thing. First, we are taught that it is our job to care about EVERYTHING. Caring about EVERYTHING implies that it is our job to do something about it. Heaped on top of this caring is the whispered weight of responsibility. Not only is it our job to do something, it is also likely that the things that appear wrong are also somehow our fault. Blame adds to the pressure to do something about the wrong.

At nearly sixty, however, I’ve learned something new. It is more than likely that NOTHING is our fault. Therefore, it’s not our job to fix it. Furthermore, it’s not even our responsibility to care.

Wait! What? It’s not our job to care?

Yes, we have a human responsibility to care about ourselves, our loved ones, humanity, and the world. If we have a loving heart, we want the best for everyone. We want people to be happy, healthy, fed, clothed, safely sheltered, educated, and their medical needs provided for. We want people to have liberty, dignity, respect, and peace.

The sad reality, however, is that more often than not, there is not a damn thing we can do to guarantee any of this for anyone. Neither can we necessarily fix the wrong that prevents people from having all that is stated above. This is especially true when the individual is capable but unwilling to care for themselves. Furthermore, 99% of what we care about is completely out of our sphere of influence, and even if it is, it still may be out of our control.

As a Type 1 (Perfectionist/Reformer) on the Enneagram, this has been a truth that has been very difficult for me to come to. Not only have I had conditioning working against me, but I have also had the gift/curse of my unique temperament which gave me the lens through which I am hard-wired to ask “How could this be better.” Indeed, this gift makes me a fantastic trouble-shooter, source of counsel and guidance. This lens also left me with a seething resentment over all the things in the world that I can’t fix and all those who could utilize my gifts, but have refused my counsel.

Compounding the frustrated fulfillment of my gift and its resulting resentment, is the reality of emotional addiction. As it turns out, we can become addicted to negative emotional states in the same way that we can be addicted to alcohol or drugs. Spending time in, or even cultivating these negative emotional states have a similar impact on our brain chemistry as other addictions. Resentment, frustration, impatience, even rage were negative states to which I had become addicted, and I would even seek out situations to get upset about so that I could experience the “power” of these emotions.

Feeling these emotions, however, never fixed the frustration. Getting twisted up about someone else’s behavior, an injustice in the world, or the ignorance of humanity never gave me peace – only more resentment. Eventually I had to make a choice – remain in the ever-twisted world of seething resentment or find some way to experience peace. I chose peace.

The first step in choosing peace was to acknowledge I had an addiction. The second step was to recognize what all those inner feelings were actually saying to me.  They weren’t saying, “Go fix this thing.  It’s your job to fix it.  You know better than anyone else.”  Instead, they were showing me one of two things: a) a need of my own that wasn’t being met that I then had the responsibility to get met (if it was within my realm of control). b) all the things in the world over which I have ZERO control. Admittedly, a) was easier to accept than b).

When we feel powerless over something we cannot control, we will find anyway to find that power, until we can accept that it is really not within our control. One of the tactics I have found helpful (or mantras I’ve embraced) is to force myself NOT TO CARE.

I know this sounds harsh, but I am naturally a loving and caring person – especially as it relates to those I love and have care for. I want the best for them. I want them to be safe, cared for, healthy, happy, etc. But the reality is that no matter my efforts to share my gifts in a way that might be supportive, some/many are unable to receive these gifts. I can beg and plead all I want but until an individual (or a group, or a Church, or a political party, or a nation) wants to make a change, my words are dust in the wind.

To survive the frustration and angst over a) my gifts not being received and b) my complete lack of control over a situation, I have had to learn not to care. In the recovery world, this is called detachment. Detachment allows me to be an objective witness of what is unfolding around me without the compulsion to step in and offer my wisdom, expertise, advice, suggestions, etc. Detachment allows me to move beyond the frustration, irritation, or anger I might feel in the face of what I perceive as wrong and accept things the way they are. And OH MY GOD, my inner perfectionist/reformer HATES THIS!  But, it’s the only way I can experience peace. At this point in my life, I’m far more concerned about peace than thinking I have any influence over the state of our world, and I’ve discovered that this peace is a choice.

I can continue to allow myself to care so much about the world that I suffer the consequences of ongoing seething resentment and frustration, or I can learn not to care (cultivate the fine art of detachment) and live my life in peace. I choose peace.

Exactly Where I Wanted to Be

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

This morning I find myself feeling a little bit like the fairytale heroine who went out looking for her soul’s longing only to wake up one day to realize she already had it and has had it for quite some time.

This is exactly where I find myself with the realization that has been a long-time coming in the midst of me already living it. Who knew?

My soul knew!  The longing has been there for as long as I can remember – even without my young self being able to give it words. Based on the models in which I was raised, the words I can now give to what my soul has longed for (and as it turns out has already been living) is: MONASTIC LIVING – in the modern world.

As it turns out, my home is my “monastery.” My practice is my “church.” My showing up in the world is my way of being of service to humanity. 

These things I have always known, but not in a way that allowed me to fully embrace it. Instead, I’ve been wiggling and writhing through the conditioned ego-attachments of our culture which dictate our understandings of success as defined by material wealth, notoriety, and power.

Additionally, I’ve had to wage an inner battle with pop culture spirituality that tells us the only work that matters is that which bears a certain appearance and comes in a particular package. Nowhere in this model are we told that EVERYTHING we do has the potential to be a kind of service to humanity – everything from my office manager work at the ballet studio to my frequent visits to my favorite coffee shop, to showing up to yoga class, posting on social media, or grocery shopping. True service is not about what we do, but how we are showing up as Love (compassion, joy, peace, gentleness, insight, counsel, companionship, care, etc.) in the world.

Monastic living in the modern world is exactly what I’ve been doing and increasingly so since being given an opportunity to fully immerse myself during the Covid-19 shutdown in 2020. The Covid-19 shutdown fulfilled my longing and I was one of those screaming “NOOOOOOOO” when the shutdown was brought to an end and I had to return to the “real world.” As it turns out, the real world is just as monastic as being locked in my home for three months – I just needed to find my way through the tangled forest of ego attachments and cultural conditioning to realize it.

As it turns out I’ve not only been creating, but actually living my monastic life all along!  I’m already exactly where I’ve long said I wanted to be.

Becoming Sheela

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

My days of makeup

and the doing of my hair

may be coming to an end.

If it weren’t for my transparent lashes

and disappearing brow,

I might ask myself:

“Why bother?

What good does it do?

I’m invisible already.”

My once full and curling tresses

have lost their luster

and their changing texture would rather frizz than curl.

Untamed like an old woman.

Gravity and cortisol winning the war

over my once trim and toned body

as from the mirror I look away.

The war against aging is one we cannot win.

So why bother trying?

As aging has its way with me

I’ll become the Sheela na Gig

I was always meant to be.

copyright Lauri Ann Lumby

Returning – a woman’s midlife journey to herself, lays bare the complexity and beauty of the midlife pursuit of authenticity. Through poetry and prose, Lauri Ann Lumby reveals how creative expression leads to understanding, wisdom and fulfillment. With writing, drawing and reflection exercises, Returning becomes more than a confession, inviting you to plumb the depths of your soul for the magnificent treasures held within.

Buy it here.

Why Bother?

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

examining the blurred line between surrender and depression

This title, Why Bother, even describes how I’m feeling in this moment as I attempt to put these thoughts in writing. On one hand I’m sick to death of my own inner voice. On the other hand, I know I have friends, colleagues, clients and students who might share these sentiments. Is this just what happens as we approach our sixties or is there something more afoot?

In short (who am I kidding, I’m never short with my words), I have arrived at a place in my life where daily I’m faced with the question, “Why Bother?” while also acknowledging a deep sense of letting go combined with an even deeper sense of surrendering to what is (or what seems to be). Some might call it acceptance. Others might accuse me of being depressed. Yes? No? Maybe so? Does it even matter what we call it when it just simply is?

For the vast majority of my almost sixty years, I have worked my butt off!  As a child, I pursued academics with two specific goals in mind: to become class valedictorian and to get into the college of my choice where I would pursue Engineering just like my dad. In the end, I achieved neither, but I worked hard in pursuit of those goals. In college I did the same. I worked hard, studied, hard, all with an end-goal in mind – get a good job that makes lots of money. Again, none of these goals panned out, but not for lack of trying.

Somewhere around 1994, I experienced a profound change of direction and found myself called into what I believed to be my life purpose and mission. I pushed myself in my studies. I developed opportunities to put my learning into actions. I gained respect in my field and eventually landed a job that I planned to pursue to the highest rank possible for a woman working in the Church – Parish Director. As these goals began to bear fruit, the rug was violently pulled out from under me and I found myself again, on another path.

We plan and God laughs!

Before going on about career stuff, I must also acknowledge my marriage. I had a vision. I had goals. I worked my ever-loving ass off to make the impossible succeed. I did not fail -but the marriage did. Again, not for lack of trying!

Then there’s my kids – yeah – I won at that. No, it’s not a contest, but I can confidently acknowledge the role I played in supporting my children in being the absolute best versions of themselves as they could possibly be. No, I wasn’t perfect. I sometimes lost my temper. I occasionally yelled at my kids. My anxiety often got the best of me. I’m sure they are carrying around conditioned thoughts or behaviors influenced by my own unhealed wounds. BUT, I look at them today and I could not be more proud – of them, and myself for my attempts at loving them into being who they are today. In this I can say I succeeded.

Back to the career stuff – without boring you with the details about which I’m sick of speaking – I worked hard, really hard, at what I understood to be my mission and purpose, and worked even more vigorously at it after the Church rug got pulled out from beneath me. I pursued further education. I voraciously consumed books on personal development, grief, and shadow work, etc. all while building, promoting, and managing my own business offering resources and support for individual self-actualization.

  • I wrote and published books. Eleven to be exact.
  • I created and facilitated over 30 courses in personal development – both in-person and eventually online.
  • I worked with countless students and clients who felt called to pursue their own inner work.
  • I networked with and collaborated with other people in the field in support of our shared mutual growth.
  • I penned thousands of blog posts to support the visibility of my work and to educate and inspire readers.
  • I wrote for myself and was guest writer for many online and hard-copy publications.
  • I put SEO practice into my work.
  • I did what I was told to do by various so-called experts.
  • I gathered a strategic team to help support a necessary rebranding.
  • Speaking of rebranding – I’ve done that too many times to mention.
  • I believed in the promises offered to me by influential people in the field to “help make my business successful.”

Since 2003, I have done all this. I’m grateful for all those who received from the gifts I shared in the world. I acknowledge the benefit my sharing has been for many. I’m humbled by the relationships that have blossomed out of the simple act of me sharing myself in the world.

Yes, great good has come from thirty years of pursuit. And yet, I have nothing of a material nature to show for all my hard work. I have zero savings. No investments. I own nothing but my car and the contents of my apartment. To heap on additional frustration, as of 2020, my work, my passion, my mission, my business has all but died. Yes, there have been a few new students and clients popping up from time to time along with the return of those with whom I hadn’t work in years. But for the most part – not much to nothing has been happening.

At some point in the last several years, I have been forced to increasingly acknowledge that what I thought was my mission and purpose is over. It’s complete. Perhaps all I pursued was simply for my own sake and those clients and students were only along for the ride (as one of my Zen friends reminds, “We’re all just here in our own sit.”) I sometimes wonder if the search for and pursuit of meaning and purpose is simply an illusion that feeds our big fat egos.

But I’m really good at what I do/did.  There was a passion that drove me. My gifts became enlivened and additional gifts were discovered, cultivated, and shared. St. Paul says this is what we should be doing – using our own unique gifts in support of the mission of love. I’ve done all that.

And yet…..and yet…..what do we do when there is nothing left? No one coming forth to receive our gifts. No inspiration to create anything new. No energy or excitement about diving back in to try reviving that which is already dead.

I got nothing. I’m spent. I have nothing more inside of me to promote, advertise, or feed my business – and at this point I wonder, “Why bother?” I’ve done all I can. Perhaps it’s lived out its life and that life has come to an end. Maybe it’s time to hand the baton to the young ones who still have the energy to start a new life.

I do not. I’m done pushing that boulder up the hill only to have it roll back down over my own dying body. I’m tired. I’m spent. One some days I feel defeated, but mostly I feel resigned. In spite of all my efforts, nothing can reverse the direction of a dying tide. It is what it is. I did what I felt called to do. I ministered to those who found their way to me. I gave my best effort and brought my best self forth. Some enjoyed the benefits of my sharing. Others found their way to another path. Some gave up the work for reasons I can only guess. Some turned away because it was easier to blame me than to face their own demons and do the deep inner work of personal healing and transformation. And I was there for it all.

So what happens now? I have a part-time job that has its frustrations but at least it helps me to pay the bills. Beyond that, I’m not sure I care. Not because I’m depressed, but because if there is one thing I’ve learned in the 59+ year journey is that WE ARE NOT IN CHARGE! Some other force is driving the boat and we can either exhaust ourselves fighting against it or go along for the ride. At almost sixty, I’m choosing to go along for the ride because any other choice is futile. This is where the “Why bother” comes in. In going along for the ride (surrendering/accepting), there’s nothing left to do, only something to be. The something I choose to be is peaceful, living with ease, gently, lovingly, and with kindness toward myself and others – or as one friend recently shared: “There is nothing more to do other than to be that which cannot be seen,” which as it turns out might just be a fancy way of saying, “Why bother?”