What Life Wants

As I am preparing to embark upon a new professional path – an opportunity that came out of nowhere and which I never would have imagined or planned for myself – I am reminded that Life tells us what it wants for and from us – not the other way around. Our choice in the matter is not about what or how we choose but is instead about how we accept what is presented or how stubbornly we resist it.

No matter how the new age and prosperity gospel folks argue otherwise, we are NOT the masters of our destiny. Our thoughts do not dictate our reality. While the Universe gives us what we need (what is in our highest good), it rarely gives us what we think we want or desire.

Case in point, since 1994, I have placed my professional attention and energy into a very specific mission. For the learning and all the experiences I gained, I am forever grateful. During these thirty-two years, I have experienced moments of pure grace, fulfillment, and joy. I have also experienced great struggle. During this time I have known abundance, I have also known lack. I do not, however, regret a single minute of any of it because:

It was right for me at the time. Through these experiences I have learned and grown.
I also believe many have benefitted from the gifts and resources I have shared.

The time for all of this, however, seems to have come to an end. All the attempts to revive this mission and keep it alive have failed. It is time to accept that the horse is dead and soon needs to be buried (more on that later). As St. Paul once said, “I have fought the good fight…I have kept the faith. (2 Timothy 4:7)” 

Life, it seems, has other plans for me. It is no longer my job to save the world (hah!). Neither, it seems, am I called to be a visible voice for the Magdalene. Instead, and ironically, I’ll be serving in a capacity reflective of the degree I earned in my undergraduate studies, while using the gifts I originally set out to share when I first embarked on my professional career in 1987.  I know this path will encompass more than just this, but it sure feels like a kind of full-circle moment to me.

Only now, I’m older and wiser. I’ve had nearly forty years to hone the skills I will be using. Technologies have changed and become more collaborative. I’m a different person than I was in 1987. And I have abilities outside of the ones I will be using that will undoubtedly be called upon.

This is a new path. A new adventure. I’m excited. And terrified. But when the Universe randomly and out of nowhere puts an opportunity in your path, and you say “no” to it three times, but it still comes back, it is likely best to accept what Life is giving you and be ready for the possibility that it might be “something amazing….I guess.”

Ugh!

For the thirty-or-so of you who continue to read my articles, thank you for your patience these past few weeks. In short – this care-giver is all cared out! I know in this I’m not alone.

The past several weeks have been heavy with intensity, anxiety, and dare I say, INSANITY. When I think things just can’t get worse in our world another shoe drops.  Just when I pray, “surely this is the tipping point that will bring the whole house of cards down upon itself,” it is not. It seems instead of wholesale collapse, the empire is dying one mortar chip at a time.

And we are all exhausted from the waiting and weighting. It is heavy work to be a visionary, prophet, lightworker, healer, starborne, starseed, and carer when the only paradigm we have ever known is coming to it’s self-created violent ending. Moreso even than the system itself, we have been bearing, upholding, and supporting those who are finding themselves anxious, frantic, nervous, and worried in the face of a collapse about which they may not even be aware. We have been a source of support for others while desperately trying to be support for ourselves.

For the past several weeks, I have found myself in complete survival mode. Between a world in collapse and some new (not really) health issues that have surfaced, it’s all I can do to get out of bed in the morning – not because I’m depressed – because I am bone weary and soul tired. On my good days, I’m honored when people seek me out for support. On my bad days, I’m sick to death of other people’s shit. (Not everyone’s shit….just those unwilling to tend to their own work.)

Does this make me a bad person? No, it just means I’m tired and as usual, excruciatingly human.

Humans exhaust me. When I’m tired, unwell, impatient, frustrated, and fumbling, I exhaust myself. Again, I know I’m not alone in this. I likely exhaust others. (ha ha).  But seriously, so many who reach out to me speak of their own disgust with themselves.

When the world is turning itself inside out, we can no longer survive as the person we once thought of ourselves as being. As the masks behind which the human-made world are falling away and the evil behind it all is being revealed, our masks also must fall. The masks I have worn are those of perfectionist, good-girl, straight A student, achiever, hard worker, honest, strong, brave, courageous, fiercely independent, and generously loving. Behind these masks, I am these things, but not always. I too am vulnerable, anxious, terrified, jealous, petty, unforgiving, harsh, and the deceit I indulge is that of people pleaser.  “I’m fine,” is a bold-faced lie and while I have love of all humanity, I sometimes wish a violent death upon those I call my enemies – or at the very least – a heaping portion of karmic retribution.

As the world has been collapsing and masks have been torn away, so too have we been forced to admit the full truth of who we are. We can no longer hide behind the expectations of a capitalistic patriarchal society.  Neither can we live under the burden of the driving, striving, and blind ambition favored by our world.

We must live our truth – or die. “Just hanging on” is no longer enough. Instead, we are invited to LET IT ALL GO. Quit trying to fit in. Quit lying to ourselves. Quit trying to be strong. Quit trying to help or care for those unwilling to help themselves. Quit forcing ourselves to take action where no action is needed and where our gifts have been denied. Quit denying the reality of aging and the physical consequences of illness.  Instead, we’re invited to embrace them. (Hollywood, Instagram, etc. beauty standards are simply another part of a world that is dying. Have you seen what is happening to Hollywood actresses? So many of them now look like corpses.  Gross!) Quit pretending we are well when we are not. Quit “faking it to make it.”

And more than anything else:  DARE to love yourself enough to choose what is life-giving for you, even/especially when what is best is to sleep.

And finally, DO NOT forget that if you are one who sees and believes in the hope of a new world, this new world is being born through you. As such, your physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual bodies are hard at work growing and getting ready to birth that new world. Be gentle and loving toward yourself as you would be with a brand new babe. In this birthing, we are fragile and vulnerable. Treat yourself as such!

With love,

Lauri

She Said the Thing

The truth of chronic illness

This past week, I had what I thought was going to be a routine session with my acupuncturist and Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner. It ended up everything but routine as that morning ended up being “one of my bad days” with unexpected and anxiety provoking symptoms. The acupuncture treatment helped ease the symptoms and Megan gave me instructions to follow up with my primary care doctor “just in case” there is more that needs to be explored. (My primary care and I are currently exploring a possible thyroid issue.)

It wasn’t this that made this week’s session remarkable, however, it was the thing Megan said. I’m not going to be able to repeat it verbatim but it was the exact acknowledgement that I needed to hear. In her compassionate seeing, Megan recognized the very real fact that most of the time, I feel like shit. Following that up with the masking that I do to make it through each day despite feeling like shit. I took Megan’s hand in mine and through tears, thanked her for SEEING ME.

Because this is the reality, I do feel like shit pretty much every day. Between Epstein-Barr, permanent vestibular neuritis, panic attack disorder, being a highly sensitive person, neurodivergent, and having polycystic kidney disease, my baseline is somewhere around 50-60%.  I’m tired and cold all the time. I’m always suffering some version of mild vertigo (giddiness). My chronic headaches have been better, but as I write I’m on day 6 of a constant dull ache. I’m on all the medications to manage my kidney disease, and every one comes with their own set of side effects. Ugh.

I don’t write this in search of pity. I share this to reveal the whole truth about chronic illness and to point out that we live in a world that has no real support for the chronically ill. Instead, we’re forced to put on a happy face, go out into the world, work to earn money to pay our bills, grocery shop, exercise, stay fit, eat right, and not complain about the fact that while we are doing all these things to make it in this world, we often feel like complete shit. Pushing through the pain, fatigue, etc. then just makes us feel worse.

The chronically ill are invisible in our world; and yet we make up 60-90% of the American population. This means that every day, 60-90% of the people we encounter are feeling like complete shit while trying to complete the tasks required of them in a capitalistic culture. Other than disability income (which very few qualify for), there are no safety nets. Zero. Zilch. Nadda.

I can’t speak for others who suffer with chronic illness, but for me, I’ve carved out a way to make a living that (somewhat) accommodates for my vulnerabilities. At the same time, it is a constant effort to show up for work. I’m fortunate to have clients who understand if I have to miss a day or reschedule.  Making this choice, however, costs me in real US dollars so I reserve that right only on my worst days. Often I show up even when feeling like I really just need to stay home and do nothing or sleep. I’m also grateful for the unexpected and often miraculous ways that financial support shows up, allowing me to be more gentle, compassionate, and caring toward my fragile body.

And today, I’m especially grateful to Megan Bartelt, L.Ac. Dipl. Ac. for through her words, I am finally feeling seen. 

When Your Demons Come Home to Roost

Letters from Hell #6

Today is a bad day. This has been a difficult weekend. For no (every) reason whatsoever, I have been feeling profoundly sad bordering on depressed. This is a stuck kind of sorrow compounded by a prescription antidepressant that makes it really difficult for me to cry. I feel like I’ve got a 20 ton boulder sitting on my chest, just behind my sternum.

Usually, I know what to do with this kind of sorrow.  I sit with it. I allow myself to feel it. I apply Tonglen or Ho’oponopono to it. This time, neither seem to be budging the load.

I allowed myself a weekend of self-care. I planned for nothing and allowed myself to simply rest. I didn’t much have a choice as I’ve also been feeling the consequences of autumn allergies. To put it bluntly I feel like SH*T. I don’t do well when I’m sick. I tend to fall into judgment, self-loathing, and self-flagellation at the hands of my inner critic who looks an awful lot like the “Shame nun” from Game of Thrones. “Shame.  Shame.  Shame.”

I’m not good at being vulnerable. I feel embarrassed and ashamed. I don’t want to invite anyone into my vulnerability. There is really nothing anyone can say that will make it better when I’m feeling this way. I know I just need to wait it out.

This morning I wrote in my journal.  These are the words that surfaced:

Taking this moment to pause. Suffering fall allergies and the pure exhaustion of a forced life. How much have I forced my self to be and do ____________ instead of just being myself. I’m tired. I feel stuck, but I’m not sure I really care. I’ve worn out my dreams.

I’ve worn out my dreams.

My dreams of a forever love.

Dreams of becoming a successful writer.

Fantasies of becoming a sought-after teacher.

Herein lies at least one face of this deep sorrow. I’m grieving. I’m grieving the failure of the goals, wishes, and dreams I had for my life and which I pursued with a vengeance. No one can say that I didn’t try (though I know some who will tell me I didn’t try hard enough or in the right way – to them I say, whatever).

Life doesn’t always give us what we want. And when we don’t get what we want, we can be like Sisyphus vainly attempting to roll the boulder up the mountain, killing ourselves in the process, or step aside, letting gravity take the boulder to where it naturally wants to go.

At some point in our lives, we are all faced with a crowd of our unrealized dreams. We can cling to or try to revive these dreams, or we can surrender to the fact that maybe these dreams were never meant to be fulfilled and/or that the journey was the point, and not the destination.

It still makes me mad. I know what my gifts are and on some days it just kills me to know that they are not being utilized.

I grieve this as well.

As the Rolling Stones once said, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you’ll find, you get what you need.” (Hmmm….that might be bullshit too….unless they’re including getting what we need only by the skin of our teeth.)

Being human is hard. Today is one of those days where it feels especially hard. I don’t like feeling sad or vulnerable. I don’t appreciate the demons of self-doubt, personal loathing, or shame that dance around in my head when I’m feeling this way. I also know better than to try to “change my thoughts” (toxic positivity) in an attempt to make the demons go away.

Instead, I sit with the demons. I call each of them forward. And I do my best to LOVE them. Each of them arose out of some kind of need – whether it be the need to belong, the need to believe the lies of perceived authority, or to keep me in compliance with the system, they came as some kind of support. Additionally, they show up to remind me of the deep pain I’m still carrying from trauma I’ve experienced in my life, along with an invitation to tend to yet another deeper layer of that pain that is now ready to be seen, felt, processed and released.

As is always true of the spiritual journey – wash, rinse repeat. So back to the demons I go to hear what they have to offer me in the way of healing this time.

Thank you sirs, may I have another.

Letters from Hell #1

Beloved Friends,

I saw a meme yesterday that read:

These are the first words that have made any sense of the world in which we are currently living, because beyond all that we see on the surface of things, it sure feels like hell.

For me, my heart is broken over all of it – but mostly over the violent division that seems to currently define our nation, if not the world. It seems everywhere I look the finger of blame is being pointed in the opposite direction from where it should be pointed – away instead of toward, because…..

When humanity makes gods of men, looking outside of ourselves for guidance, authority, leadership and direction, this is what we get. A bunch of unqualified, overly loud individuals getting rich off our willingness to give them our power.

In this current version of hell, censorship is king. If the “Emperor” doesn’t like what you say about him, then through money and power, you are silenced. Or, if the Emperor is in need of a martyr, one will be created.

All of this to feed the beast of division. Those in power believing that in dividing the nation, they will gain more power. Strangely, it seems their tactics are working as the powerful few gain increasing wealth as the world falls around their feet. What will be left when they are done? A world of ash where beauty once stood? No wonder they’re looking for a way to settle on Mars.

Many of us have known this was coming, but nothing could have prepared us for how truly awful it really is. The long, slow, excruciatingly painful death of the world built on fear, power, and control. Daily, I plead with the universe, DIE ALREADY!

I’m exhausted for the end of things, hoping that when this is all over (will it ever be over?) humanity will find a way to live in peace. But for the love of God, how long is this going to take?

Physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally, I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.  I’m not sure how much more any of us can take. We seem to be suffering from a collective sort of PTSD and recent events have only made it worse (thank you Justine Joslyn for this reminder!). 

I know my PTSD is triggered. I feel vulnerable, raw, and highly emotional. My head hurts. I feel the physical effects of cortisol raging through my body producing flu-like symptoms. My heart hurts. I am finding it hard to breathe. I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything. Yesterday, it was all I could do to sit on my couch and pray.

And when I’m at work, I feel broken and flawed. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong and that everything I’m doing is a mistake. I feel unqualified for a job for which I am, in truth, overqualified. I feel ashamed in my imperfection.

This is not me. At least, this isn’t normal me. This is me under panic and in a heightened state of activation. I am finding it hard to focus. I am doomscrolling for something – anything to make me feel safe.  I know better than this – but I can’t help myself.

I feel desperate – desperate for a moment to breathe, a moment to feel safe, a moment of peace in which the world isn’t suddenly exploding with some new tragic or devastating news. I hate it here.

But just when I’m ready to completely give up on humanity, wishing and hoping for this all to be over, I am reminded by the wisdom of youth, in this case my daughter. Yesterday I texted her, “The world just needs to end already.” This was her heart-wrenching, wise response:

UGH!  Knife to the heart! A knife to my heart that broke me wide open. In her wise words, my daughter spoke what we all want:

We want the world to be better. We want it to be better for ourselves, but even more so, for our children and our children’s children. For these, we must hang on to hope – cling to it even. With these words, I will leave you with this:

With the deepest love,

Lauri

Being Soft

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.

Shining a Light on Reality

This past Thursday morning, I was gifted with a dream that felt more like a lesson or an attunement than merely a dream. In this dream, I was visited by other-worldly beings (aliens? angels? Who knows!?). I was together with a group of spiritual companions, and a light was being shined upon us, that light reached out to enfold a multitude of human beings – too many to count. As the light was shining upon us, I heard, “These are the people who are opened to and have made a commitment to being and living as the fullness of Love.” I then saw the light shining on a second multitude of humans. As the second multitude was engulfed in this light, I heard, “These are the people who can yet be awakened by Love.” Finally, the light shined on a third group. About this group I heard, “These are those who are unwilling to be opened by Love.” Finally, the other worldly beings spoke these words: “This is how it has been. This is as it shall be. This is how it is.”

It has taken me several days to process (I’m still processing) what took place in that dream and to notice the effect the light and the words had upon me. As the days have unfolded, I have felt an opening and a softening in me of the hopes I have held out for humanity. More pointedly, this dream has made me keenly aware of my tendency to judge and the disappointment and sense of deep sorrow I feel when coming face to face with humans who are unwilling to know Love.

All my life I have found myself heartbroken when individuals, or the collective, demonstrate bigotry, cruelty and/or violence toward another human. Why would anyone choose cruelty? Why aren’t people eager to know and practice Love? For what reason would one turn away from the deep healing that occurs as we open ourselves more and more fully to Love?

By Love, I’m not talking about romantic love, parental love, or even collegial love. Instead, I’m speaking of the “Love that surpasses all understanding” (Eph 3:19). The Love that is our Source (what some might call God). The Love that makes up all the Universe. The Love that is our true and original nature. This is the Love that dwells within us always and to which we can turn as we seek healing of separation and for all the traumas and wounds we have experienced in our life. Love provides us with an opportunity to more and more fully embody our truest self. Refusing that Love keeps us imprisoned by the tragedies of life and the conditioning that causes us to remain in shame.

In my own life, I have experienced the transformational power of this Love. Love has helped me to release resentment. Love has helped me soften my judgment and grow in compassion. Love has supported me in peeling away sixty years of conditioning, trauma, and woundedness, to find an even deeper Love waiting to be known. Further, Love has helped me to be forgiving and compassionate toward myself for all the times I am imperfect in Love.

Because of the benefits I have experienced from Love, I believed that everyone would want to know that kind of Love. I have spent a lifetime trying to be that Love while providing opportunities for others to do the same. In this work, I have experienced receptivity, suspicion, and flat-out refusal. Until this dream, I found myself perplexed by this refusal. Why would anyone refuse the opportunity to know and live from Love? The reality, as the dream reminded me, is that many do not want to or are unable to be open to the healing power of Love. Proof of this reality is in the millions of examples we are given each day of human beings choosing gluttony over temperance, lust for power over fortitude, wrath over mercy, envy over love, greed over generosity, sloth over knowledge, and pride over humility. Since time immemorial, there have been human beings who have refused Love, and in doing so, have refused themselves.

It is what it is. There is nothing I/we can do to change this. There are humans already doing the work of Love. There are humans open to being awakened by Love. And there are those, no matter what we do, who will flat out refuse it.

Today, I am working on acceptance of this reality. In each moment that I consciously acknowledge this truth, I find myself freer to focus my energy and attention on those open to Love, and less on the disappointment I feel when that Love is refused. Acceptance of this truth also presents me with a question – how am I choosing to be Love – especially toward those who outright refuse and in this refusal continue to act in cruel and hateful ways?

Growing in Love is a life-long journey!

Honing Our Witness Practice

Being an objective witness to the natural unfolding of the universe without interjecting our own need to control, our unhealed wounds, or our desperate desire to feel safe, is a really difficult task. If we have the ability to read people, events and choices for the likely outcome they will produce, it makes being witness even more challenging.

As one who has almost always been right (I admit a shred of pride in sharing this, but mostly it is a statement of historical fact), it physically hurts me to watch people I care about stepping in a direction that I know will likely cause them harm. Further, it enrages me when I watch liars and charlatans taking advantage of the weak and vulnerable and gaining wealth and notoriety while doing so. As a first-born who developed the defense mechanisms of fixer and protector, I want with my whole soul to intervene. Intervention, I have learned, rarely helps and most often harms. (The exception being life-choices that may be life-threatening.)

Being an objective witness requires that we lay our need to control aside, allowing individuals to make their own choices – no matter how poor those choices might be. The savior in me cringes in even writing this, but it is true. What I am continually reminded of is that each of us is on our own individual journey and who we choose to be and how we choose to follow our path is really nobody else’s business but our own. We are here to learn our own lessons – or not learn them as the case may be.

Instead of reaching out in warning, putting forth a challenge, or getting emotionally worked up over human beings’ choices, we are invited to stand back. Watch. Observe. For me, this includes the additional practice of silencing my inner critic who stands in judgment with arms crossed in self-righteousness.  Further, I find I am invited to acknowledge the strong outward pull of my unhealed wounds of fixer and protector, and draw that pull inward, reminding myself that it is not my job to fix or protect others from their potentially harmful decisions. Sometimes I have to sit on my hands, bite my tongue, and close my eyes, my whole body shaking in effort as I wrestle that former impulse to intervene into stillness.

Being objective witness is not easy, but as my Zen friends would say, “We are all here in our own sit.” It is not my job to interfere with the life-journey of another. The best I can do is use what I see as seeds for my own healing and growth, while giving others the freedom to experience the consequences of their choices and the opportunities for learning that come in those choices. Further, I can share the lessons I’ve learned and the tools I’ve gathered in the event that some might find them helpful.

How are you honing your witness practice?


Being objective witness begins with our own journey of self-awareness and healing. The Authentic Freedom protocol developed by Lauri Ann Lumby is a great place to get started with that healing.

Learn more about Authentic Freedom here and how you can begin that journey.

Endings

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.

When Reaching Across the Divide Fails

Regardless of the chasm that seems to separate human beings from each other, I continue to believe that we have more in common with each other than not. I have been shown this time and time again when I have reached out to those who appear to believe differently than I – whether that belief be about religion, politics, or any other things to which humans cling tightly. Granted, my reaching out is mostly toward those I already know and trust and who I believe can enter into civil discourse. (In building a bridge, I reserve the right to also keep myself safe from those who have no desire to be civil.) In the past I have shared my experiences of reaching across the divide and the positive results of doing so.  I learned new things, as did those toward whom I reached. We discovered common ground and learned that we could honor and respect each other’s differences. Friendship and love prevailed.

Sadly, yesterday I experienced something not so positive. A comment was made on one of my FB threads by someone I thought I knew well and with whom I share common blood. I was not surprised by their comment that demonstrated a dramatically different perception than my own. Because of my love and respect for this person, I did not challenge them on FB. Instead, I reached out privately in the spirit of inquiry and discovery. I simply wanted to learn. I explained I had no interest in changing their mind or confronting their views.  I simply wanted to understand why they believed that way. I used every skill I know to assure them my intentions were not violent, but were open and welcoming. Sadly, their response was no response. Crickets.

I cannot guess at their reason for not responding. All I can be is sad that they were not willing to meet with me across the perceived divide. A profound opportunity was lost in their refusal to engage. I suspect that if they had been willing to enter into a civil conversation, we would have learned that we are more alike in our beliefs than different and that we could honor and respect each other for where we differ.

There is nothing more I can do to invite conversation with this individual, but this illustrates to me the perfect example of where we find ourselves as human beings. No matter where humans reside geographically, it seems they have dug their heels in and crossed their arms over their individual beliefs and against those of others. We need look no further than the debacle of American politics or the wars over Gaza and Ukraine to see examples of human beings refusing to reach across the divide. Attached to being right, maintaining control, and acquiring perceived power and wealth, humanity stands with arms crossed and hearts closed.

Again, I find this incredibly sad. Division will never be healed or common ground established as long as our hearts are closed. While others may not be willing or able to uncross their arms for the purpose of entering into deep listening to another, I am, and I will continue to reach out when and where it’s appropriate because I am willing to learn, I know I don’t know everything, I can accept being wrong. I’m not attached to any specific belief except that defined and lived by Love and I’d rather reach across the divide than turn my back on friends and loved ones who might believe differently than I.