My Year of Hopefulness - Visions and Plans

"How could a vision ever be given to someone to harbor if that person could not be trusted to carry it out? The message is simple: commitment precedes vision." ~ High Eagle

In San Jose, we stopped at an artisan market to buy gifts for family and friends back home. The market was filled with stalls that contained crafts of all kinds from coffee mugs to home goods to jewelry. I found some things for my family and purchased a journal for myself, of course, handmade from materials from a coffee plant. I am using it to write down my dreams for each part of my life. On this trip, a number of paths rolled out before me and I wanted to make sure to capture them as they revealed their many details.

In Costa Rica I found the space to breath and dream, the space to craft visions of what I want my life to be going forward. Bringing these dreams to life will take some short-term sacrifices, financially and personally, though the long-term pay off is well worth it. Realizing what I can live without has given me so much freedom. I don't feel weighted down by needs and wants. I feel lighter and feel that my life is both full and fulfilling. Many of the volunteers I worked with have taken this similar path, simplifying and downsizing their lives, taking a chance on big dreams. It was very inspiring and encouraging to be among them and to hear their stories. Like me, they were a little hesitant and a little scared, and they kept going anyway.

On the plane back to the U.S., I allowed my mind to wander. I didn't multi-task the way I have on every other flight I've ever been on. I simply started down one vision, turning over every stone, concentrating on all of the beautiful little details, and recording them in my coffee plant book. Within the pages of this book, I have put fear aside and written down my wildest aspirations without judging them in any way. I let the visions show up, knowing that High Eagle was absolutely right - of course I have the ability to bring them to life. If I'm committed to building a better life for myself and for others, then visions and the ability to make them my reality will follow. It is invigorating to be grounded in so much faith.

My Year of Hopefulness - Holy Water

In the center of Cartago there is a church known as La Basilica de la Virgen de los Angeles. In 1635, it is told that a statue of the Virgin was found in the forest by an Indian girl. She took it home and put it in a box. When she returned to the forest the next day, she found the statue again in the same place. When she went home, the statue was gone from the box. This same sequence of events happened to her several more times. She told her priest about the miracle and he took the statue from the forest and locked it in a box in his church. The statue performed the same miracle, and so it was decreed that the Virgin must have wanted a church built over that very spot in the forest.

On August 2nd every year, Costa Ricans come to La Basilica as a pilgrimage, some walking for days across the country and crawling on their knees from the start of the aisle up to the altar. Several of us went to the church yesterday and today to witness the extreme devotion that Costa Ricans feel for this church and for the Virgin Mary. They come here to ask for help and healing and peace and luck, something we can all use a little more of. There is a river that flows under the church and there is a small spring where people collect the holy water in bottle, wash their faces in it, and drink it as an elixir of all things in their lives that they wish to come true, things that they wish to change.

I am not a religious person, and haven't been for a long time, though I do find religion to be a compelling area of study and I do believe fervently in a higher purpose and power. I do believe we are all connected; my religion is simply kindness. Hearing the miracles that the church has performed for people in Costa Rica, I felt compelled to pay my respects, to ask the Universe for help me now at this time in my life as I make big changes to transform it into the life I want to live, and I did wash my face in the holy water.

Sometimes, we must accept that there are things that do not make sense to us, things that happen and sources of power that we cannot see nor explain. I don't know if the Virgin appeared in the forest and I don't know that a church needed to be built on that site in Cartago. I do know that faith is a very powerful feeling, that it is capable of accomplishing that which we cannot possibly accomplish without it. I do believe in our ability to change, and every once in a while I believe that miracles really do happen. Today, was one of those days.

I left the church and I did feel a little bit more brave as I headed back to the house. Perhaps bravery and our ability to change that which we do not like in our lives is a miracle in and of itself.

My Year of Hopefulness - Walking with Faith Through Egypt

"For we walk by faith, not by sight." ~ 2 Corinthians 5:7

I went to the Egyptian Galleries today at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I've been doing a little bit of fiction writing and needed to collect some research on Egypt. I suppose I could have could just looked it up on-line though it was a gorgeous day, I wanted to walk through the park, and there is not substitute for seeing the treasures of Egypt right in front of us.

The Egyptian Galleries are well-known as one of the favorite attractions for kids to the Met. The fiction piece I'm writing is actually for a young adult audience so I must admit that a little of my motivation was some good eaves dropping. Kids, of course, were fascinated by the mummies. "There's a dead person in there?" I heard numerous times. Followed invariable by the parents saying "yes" and the kids responding "cool". (For the record, that was my response in my mind, too.) They also loved the myriad of figurines, depictions of dogs, and all the fancy gold jewelry that literally glowed within the display cases. I easily saw a dozen kids striking a pose that matches the many Egyptian etchings that lined the walls of the galleries. I wanted to do that too, though I knew it wouldn't be as endearing an act for a 33 year old as it is for a 10 year old, so I held myself back.

To write fiction, we have to hang out with our characters, walk around with them, see the world through their eyes as well as our own. In this action, there are bits of dialogue that surface. We learn about the experiences of our characters the same way we get to know a new friend or someone we've just started dating. A little at a time, we learn where they've been, what they've seen, and where they hope their lives will go. I just walk beside them silently, recording everything.

There's a lot of faith involved in writing fiction. At the top of a blank page, we're never quite sure where we'll end up by the time we reach the bottom of that page. We have to be generous and patient and let the story unfold naturally, taking comfort that it will go exactly the way it's supposed to. It's a mystical process.

Our lives are kind of like fiction writing, too. We might have some kind of basic outline for what we'd like to do and where we'd like to go, though the details of how we color in the lines is largely spontaneous. We meet new and interesting characters along the way, we veer off in many different directions, take advantage of one opportunity and then pass on another. We travel, we experience, we remain open to things that are new and strange and beautiful. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I see that living life really is exactly like writing fiction. We fumble around in the dark, not knowing exactly what is in front of us, forging ahead with only the faith and belief that the road we're on is exactly where we are meant to be. All we must do is be present. The story, and our very lives, will unfold around us.

My Year of Hopefulness - Ancient Wisdom

"The interdependency of Humankind, the relevance of relationship, the sacredness of creation is ancient, ancient wisdom." ~ Rebecca Adamson

On the 17th floor of my apartment building, I feel a little closer to what's miraculous and sacred in our world. In the past few weeks I have felt some energy driving me toward something new; I've felt my life taking on a different kind of meaning. Last night as I was getting my apartment ready for the movers to arrive, I had my music on, washing my new kitchen supplies and watching the sun sink down behind those lovely water towers. In one moment I felt intensely overcome with gratitude, as if my heart had opened up in a way that it never has before. There seemed to be so many opportunities laid out before me and all I had to do was select one, like taking a book from a shelf.

I began to tick through my personal relationships and all of the strength and hope and inspiration that I find in each of them. I started to recall kindnesses and favors and support that I've been offered, not just in the past few weeks but as far back as I can remember. I wanted to give the whole world a great big hug, followed by a great big thank you, for everything.

I wonder if this feeling, this sense of belonging has been available to me along and I just didn't see it or didn't know how to tap into it. I'm intrigued by the difference between looking and seeing, by how often we run around desperately seeking that which inevitably ends up being right in front of us. What if we just stopped, for a brief moment, and saw with a new kind of clarity the many blessings we have, recognized are tremendous capacity for change, for goodness, for creation.

We can construct a richer, happier, more meaningful existence, for ourselves and others, by tapping into the wisdom that is all around us, by recognizing that we are all always in this together. All of a sudden when we realize we aren't alone, when we recognize that there are ancient, fundamental learnings that connect us across generations, across the globe, across time continuums, our feelings of loneliness and isolation are replaced by community and love. The impossible becomes not only possible, but imminent.

My Year of Hopefulness - A Lucky Place to Lay My Head

My friend, Liz (another unwitting angel), was able to connect me to a friend of hers regarding an apartment. Her friend sent me the management company's contact info. I emailed them right away and they were able to show me a studio apartment that's available immediately, in my same neighborhood, in my price range. This story is miraculous enough with just these details though the other coincidences are striking.

My apartment building caught fire on Saturday afternoon and by tonight, I have a new place to live. It's a pent house studio with outdoor space, lots of light, a dishwasher, full-size appliances, a very large closet, doorman, elevator, laundry in-building, art deco building, only one month security, no broker fee, beautiful view of the skyline and the Hudson River. Skeptical? Me too. It gets better.

It's one of the first buildings in New York City that takes American Express as a form of payment for rent. And until this morning, the apartment had been listed as having an application in. It's been that way for weeks. However, the application fell through some time ago and the list did not update for some odd reason until this morning.

Tomorrow I will get two checks for the realty company and at lunchtime will hop uptown to sign the lease. This apartment hunt all wrapped up in less than 48 hours and I got a space where I feel safe. Life changes so fast. All we can do is be ready - for good luck and bad luck. Both are bound to turn up in our lives at one time or another. And while I hope I have seen the later of these for some time to come, I'm so abundantly grateful that during this difficult transition I've still been able to find, receive, and recognize blessings.

My Year of Hopefulness - Unwitting Angels

I believe in guardian angels, divine moments of intervention, and the continuous play between the world we see and the world just beyond our vision. While I do believe that angels walk among us, I also believe that we have the ability, at every moment, to be angels to one another.

In the aftermath of the fire in my apartment building, there is a lot of chaos. I am now dealing with adjusters from my renter's insurance. (Thank God I have renter's insurance. If you don't, please stop reading this post and by it immediately through Liberty Mutual at http://www.libertymutual.com. A $181 annual premium buys you $25,000 worth of coverage with a $500 deductible.) I also have buyer's protection on my charge card so I need to make an inventory for them so I can be reimbursed for damaged items. I have to find a new place to live. I'll have to rebuild a stock of personal items.

And you know what? It's all okay. I am monumentally lucky to be alive and physically unscathed. Much of that is due to the amazing love and support and concern of my friends and family, from people who read my online writing and follow my usually fun antics on Twitter. This is the power of community. This is the power of unwitting angels - people who show up as little rays of light just when we need that light most. It's always there, it sometimes just takes a different lens of experience to see it.

My friend, Amber, one of my unwitting angels in this situation, has graciously offered me her apartment for the week while she's out of town. I came to pick up the keys from her, and we got to talking about how incidents like my apartment building fire change our perspective. She thinks I will quickly adopt the policy of "omeletitgo" - I'm just gonna let it all go. From this point forward, all those little frustrations and annoyances that build up in our day to day lives just don't matter. The physical stuff we accumulate just doesn't matter. If all goes up in smoke, it doesn't matter.

All that does matter is kindness. How do we support and love and care for one another in good times and bad? How can we help those in crisis? How can we serve one another to make all of our days a bit easier? How can we all be a part of the global brigade of unwitting angels?

The image above is not my own and can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Is Human Connection More Powerful than Prayer?

"The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart." ~ Buddha

How often do we raise our eyes to the sky and ask for help? I find myself doing that from time to time. Today I got word from a partner of mine on one of my projects that we are facing some critical obstacles. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. "Pray," she said. "Lots."

Now, I know she's doing much more than praying. She's actually working her tail off, jumping through dozens of hoops to keep us moving forward. I find that with any trying circumstance, the default solution is to pray. But what are we really doing when we pray? What am I doing as I go to my yoga mat in times of distress? What am I asking for and who am I asking it of?

Maybe prayer is better directed not up towards the sky, out of our reach. Perhaps it's much more powerful if we turn in and not out. When I go to my yoga mat and create an intention for my practice, I'm asking for help and guidance and assurance. I'm tapping into my creative well. I'm actually searching for my soul and its wisdom. It's an overwhelming idea if I think about it too long. Can we actually tap into the energy and light around us, all around us, by looking in?

My experience has demonstrated than the answer to this question is a resounding 'yes'. Yoga and Buddhism have some basic tenants that I try to keep at the forefront of my mind, especially during difficult times: 1) the world will provide us the exact learning that we need at the exact moment that we need it and 2) to tap into the energy around us we must recognize that while we live in this world, we are not of it. Our souls are old. They have been through many trials. They are the ties that bind us to one another. They have knowledge far beyond what we carry within our minds and our own limited experiences. Meditation, yoga, or any other contemplative practice bring that soul knowledge to our consciousness.

While in Virginia, I used to teach yoga classes at my business school. They were my small way of making the stress that all of us felt in our studies a bit more manageable. (This Winter I'll begin my 500 hours certification process. It will be a long road, though one I have wanted to be on for some time now.) I would close each class with a simple statement to my students that a teacher of mine used to use: "the light that is in me, honors that the light that is in you." I've found that connecting with people, one heart to one heart right here on the ground, has brought me more lasting joy and peace than raising my eyes and prayers to the sky. I have more faith in us and what we can do together, here and now, than I do in anything else.

The image above can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - One tiny step toward faith

"For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them." ~ Matthew 18:20

I stopped going to church a long time ago. I felt let down by organized religion, constrained and burdened by being called a sinner no matter how good I was. I found faith on my yoga mat, in nature, in people - no church-going required. Lately, I've felt the need to find a place where I can go to be only with my spirituality, to feel that I am close to something divine, a place big enough to store my troubles while I sort them out.

Tonight, I stopped by the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine because it's beautiful and I like the way the choir sounds. I went to the 4:00 Evensong. They didn't sound quite as good as they did during their rehearsal last week, though I still felt some kind of comfort being there with other people who were also there to listen to the music. I was able to pray and ask for help and strength for the coming week, and felt lighter when I left than when I entered.

Just outside the cathedral, the white peacock that lives on the grounds was strutting around the church green. I had previously only seen him from a distance. He's beautiful, with a long, flowing tail, and a crown of slight feathers. I whistled a very soft whistle, and to my surprise he came running toward me.

A woman next to me, looking at the peacock, asked, "?Como se dice en ingles?"

I speak a tiny bit of Spanish and replied, "peacock."

"!cómo extraño! En español, decimos pavo." (How weird. In Spanish, we say "pavo".)

I nodded, not knowing what else to say and a little embarrassed by my very limited Spanish vocabulary (which ironically I was working on just a few hours prior to my visit to the Cathedral.)

She continued, "Que la iglesia no es hermosa? Es como en el cielo existe." (Isn't the church beautiful? It's like Heaven in there.)

I agreed with her, "Sí. Es como el cielo."

I wondered how she knew what Heaven looked like. She seemed a little kooky and I was reminded of that show Touched by an Angel that I used to watch with my mom when I was a kid. The woman smiled and left me alone with the peacock.

I don't know if this is the start of a new chapter of faith for me. I do know that it was nice to be in the presence of something larger than my own existence for a while, a place that gave me a small glimpse of what Heaven might be like.

My Year of Hopefulness - Cathedral of Saint John the Divine

Yesterday, I found myself leaving the emergency room of St. Luke's Hospital. I had developed a "subconjunctival hemorrhage" and a slight amount of "petechiae". This is a fancy way of saying a very small blood vessel popped in my left eye and I had a few tiny red freckles around both of my eyes. I was panicked that I was experiencing the beginning of a very serious medical condition. Turns out that all of my blood work and diagnostic tests came back completely normal. I'll just look a little weird for a week or so.

I called my mom to update her and let her know that nothing was seriously wrong with me. I wandered down the street, into the children's sculpture garden of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine. As I was explaining to my mom that I was just fine, I found myself tearing up. Maybe they were tears of relief, or fear, or maybe it was frustration with the week I had just finished. Over the past few days I have discovered many more of my friends have lost their jobs. I'm beginning to wonder how I've been so fortunate to escape that situation in this economy. I work very hard, though not any harder than my friends who have been let go from their positions. I'm beginning to think that luck has a lot to do with it.

I sat in that sculpture garden for about 20 minutes and had a good cry. The sun had come out, the wind was blowing, and I felt lost. I'm worried about the uncertainty we're all facing, despite the fact that I have managed uncertainty so many times before. I feel like the ground is shifting beneath our economy, and there is no sign of it settling down any time soon. I was angry for my friends who have been let go from their jobs - hard working, talented people who were seen as a line item on a company's excel spreadsheet, an expense rather than a resource and an investment. I felt shaken.

I had never really looked at that giant sculpture next to Saint John the Divine. It's a collaborative piece of work based on Noah's Ark and the triumph of good over evil. The Cathedral has been closed for some time for renovations and recently re-opened. I was weary from my hospital visit though felt drawn into that incredible cathedral. I wandered in and it was nearly empty. The choir was practicing and I felt drawn to sit in the center of the space, letting that beautiful music wrap around me like a warm hug. Though I am not a religious person, I felt that God was very close to me at that moment, that he knew what I was going through, and wanted to help.

I let my eyes tear up again, I was cemented to that seat, transfixed by the music. After a little while I got up and walked around the edge of the cathedral, stopping to look at each of the small chapels. The light shone through them so brilliantly. I had never seen stained glass that colorful and perfect. By the time the choir stopped, I got to The Poet's Corner, a small area that pays tributes to literary greats such as Mark Twain, Herman Melville, and Gertrude Stein. They each had their names and birth date engraved into a stone, along with a quote they famously wrote.

One quote particularly caught my attention. Theodore Roethke said, "I learn by going where I have to go." I thought about this quote all the way home. It reminded me that I have places I need to be, where I've committed to be, and there are things for me to learn there and to take somewhere else. Today, I just need to do what I have to do. The acts of hope and faith are a daily process. Just keep showing up.

The image above can be found here.

Why I Need Christmas

I was raised a Catholic and in my teenage years my mother had a religious epiphany shortly before my father passed away. We started going to church regularly. I was never much into that crucifix that was the centerpiece of the ceremony, though I did find the rituals comforting. I can’t tell you why – I guess I was craving some sense of routine, a little less randomness in the chaos. My expectations for the mass were set. I knew when to stand, sit, and kneel. I knew when to say hi to my neighbors and when to wish them peace and when to leave them alone. I knew what to say and when to say it aloud, in unison with everyone around me. I liked the structure and knowing what came next. Order and predictability were a welcome retreat.

I don’t go to Church anymore. I believe in being my own savior, and trying to save other people when possible by sharing my own survival stories, mistakes, time, learnings, and a sprinkling of chartable giving to select organizations that I believe do good work. I find salvation on my yoga mat, or in walking through the parks that surround my neighborhood, or at my computer, writing, in museums surrounded by centuries-old art, and during performances of theatre and dance and music of which there are many in New York. My inspiration and my faith are grounded in my family and my friends whom I am so close to that they are my family.

So even though I classify as Agnostic and not Christian, I still celebrate Christmas. I sill look forward to the season and take great joy in the decorations, the carols, the traditions, and the general feeling of hope and kindness that envelops our society at this time of year. I always emerge stronger and happier and calmer on December 26th than I was on December 24th. Maybe it’s the massive amounts of pie I consume on Christmas Day, maybe it’s seeing my sister, Weez, or the Christmas cards that arrive by post and by email, the surprise and excitement on the faces of my family as they open presents I so carefully wrapped for them.

More likely though, I think it’s a renewed sense of faith. In myself, in the world. I find that at Christmas time I can give up my fate to the universe much more readily than I can at any other time of year. There are some people who are able to keep Christmas in their hearts all year-round. I can’t. I am grateful everyday for what I have, for the people in my life, for my good health and fortune. Still, I need December 25th to be reminded of goodness, to be inspired, to rekindle my creativity. And it always comes just in time, just when I need it most. Happy Christmas.

The above photo can be found at http://www.larissameek.com/wp-content/uploads/winterfantasy.jpg

Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

It occurred to me this holiday season that I have not written you a letter in over 20 years. As a kid, I would leave a note for you, with a glass of milk, some cookies, and some treats for your reindeer. I don't recall any gifts that I specifically asked for, though I do remember how excited I would feel going to bed on the night of December 24th. I would wake up several times during the night thinking I heard the reindeer on the roof, or jingle bells, or footsteps down stairs leaving presents under the tree. Every night in December we would call a special phone number (from our house phone - remember those?) to hear a message from you about what you were working on or where you were at that moment. I believed.

Now at 32, I don't make Christmas lists any more. I am very fortunate to be able to have the means to get what I need or want, within reason, for myself. However, I do have one request that I am hoping you can help me with that I have been having a bit of trouble getting on my own.

For the new year, I'd like to be able to capture some of that child-like wonder I had the last time I wrote to you so many years ago. I'd like to believe again - in the goodness of the world, in magic, in our ability to do anything we want with our lives. I feel like "No" is all around us. We are strangled by rules and hierarchy and people who tell us what's the "right way" or the "wrong way" to do things. It seems that we have lost our collective smile in the face of very hard times that will likely get harder.

I'm hoping you can help me be a little bit stronger, a little bit more hopeful, and a little bit more daring. Can you help me take a bit more risk, go out on a limb from time to time, and have more faith in myself and in people in general? I'd like to do my part in the coming year to generate more joy - for myself and in my community. This will take some focus on my part - even on days when I'm down, I'd like to be able to remember to count my blessing, of which there are many. And most of all, I'd like to have the courage to create the life I imagine for myself.

I know you're busy tonight, with lots of children around the world to visit. But if you find yourself with a small gap of time as you're flying over the Upper West Side of Manhattan, I'd love to have you stop in for some cookies and milk. Safe travels.  

Love,

Christa      

The photo above can be found at: http://www.treehugger.com/santa-reading283746234.gif