Those Annoying Transitions of Life.

Fall is one of my favorite times of year.  It's so full of action both seen and unseen, and is the place holder of a new beginnings as well as a fading of what was and will never be again. 

Plants in my garden have been frosted and some will die and the seeds are being spread around.  Other plants are only losing their blossoms, stems and leaves but when I pull those up I see nice fat tubers that I am storing away in the cellar for that new beginning I spoke of.

Change and progression are one of the basics of living life but as humans we tend to fear the changes of life.

Not only does our conscious fear the changes often but according to what I learned in a seminar on the dynamics of the brain, our brain fears change!

If I am about to change myself there are ways that support change and ways of encountering that that sets up a reaction in the brain.

The brain can experience a direct attempt at changing it as a threat.  As such, the fight/flight reaction is triggered and chemicals are released that among other reactions tend to shut down the prefrontal lobe to focus on the "battle" at hand.

So thus the way to encounter my brain with a new habit or new way of being is to simply in peace, and with love for myself, start to learn a new way of living life or being and ignore the other unwanted habit or habits and thus not activate the reactive responses of the brain. 

So, living in peace become not just a way of being with others but a way of "living" with ourselves.

Gently and in fact lovingly noticing those habits or way of living that may have supported us in the past but are not working well now.

Often we need others around us to be with us in this process.  A friend or a community can support us in the upset and confusion that may result from suspending certain ways of thinking or acting and integrating new ways of thinking and acting.

Those friends can love us through those wintery seasons of change and casting off until there is the new birth of something else fresh and new on the other side.

Boston harmonies

I love cities. I suppose growing up in a practically virginal valley in the western edges of the Catskills shouldn't set me up for this but it did. But even now I live on the main street of a small NH town and I can walk out my door across a couple of yards and I'm back in the woods from where the deer sometimes glide out and eat the yews around the houses.

I love the hustle and bustle, I love the traffic confusion, I love looking at huge buildings and looking in the window trying to see past the drapes and wondering who lives their life up there?

Recently I've been in Boston more than usual as I am having dental work done at Tufts Dental School to save money and also to support students who need practice.

As I stand waiting near the windows of the 12th floor I look out over Chinatown and can see lots of roof tops. This reminds me of one drapery job I did in Cambridge just over the river from Boston was installing a 30' wide motorized drape (into the concrete ceiling!) into a penthouse the building owner had built on top of his apartment building so that his daughter could live there while she went to Havard or something. Just threw a penthouse up on top of his apartment building! For his daughter to live in while she goes to college! Hey, presto; empty rooftop now penthouse.

This is what I'm talking about. Another world, another way of living.

So I had been to the dentist and was driving away when I looked out at the scene ahead of me; Chinatown stores, tall residential buildings, people scurrying around, construction going on and suddenly I was elevated by having this urban scene overlaid in my head with this section from The Message;

"From beginning to end he's there, towering far above everything, everyone. 
So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding. Not only that, but all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe—people and things, animals and atoms—get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the cross." 
 Colossians 1

It was a surreal moment. I felt a kinship, a joy in this huge, gritty, intimidating world. A vibrant harmony.

In Reaching Out, by Henri Nouwen, Nouwen describes the ability to engage in solitude anywhere you are, people or no people, quiet or no quiet. It's an inner attitude that I can choose. And in so doing be where I am for others.

This is in contrast to the emotion of loneliness I'm sure I would have felt in a big city a few years ago. Sad, anxious, and always living in the future of getting back to where my partner in co-dependency, my wife, was. Taken up with the impossible assuaging of my own feelings of loneliness that I was choosing.

Now in this celebration of vibrancy in the midst of the ebb and flow of traffic and bustling people I was able to engage a God's eye view. What could be seen as "broken and dislocated pieces" fitting together in smooth harmony. All the diversity and activity flowed as a beautiful river through the canyon walls of brick and mortar and glass.

And I was part of a larger whole.