by susantara | Jul 25, 2014 | Spiritual Journey |
I’m a little more than halfway through the book, Testimony of Light by Helen Greaves, which was recommended to me recently as an excellent text in the “near-death” genre. It is an authenticated account from the 1960s of two nuns who communicated telepathically while they were alive and continued to do so after one of them passed on. It resonates with the other books I’ve read in the genre, and I have been working my way through it by reading small chunks and allowing the ideas to settle in my mind when I’m kayaking or sleeping.
Sometimes I’m out on the water immersed in thought or some kind of pursuit (which often involves an elusive heron). Then I catch myself and am amused by the attempts of my little mind to make sense of the Big Picture – for I sense that the truth of our existence is beyond human comprehension. Our sensory organs and conditioned minds can only handle so much Light.
Today I set out looking for herons but fell in love with a small turtle basking in the sun. Then I returned to my pursuit of herons but dropped that agenda after a short time when I realized the “heron paparazzi” state of mind prevented me from entering stillness. Sometimes it’s grace that brings us back into presence (for instance, coming upon a turtle basking in the sun), and sometimes it’s awareness of mental activity (much like realizing within a dream that we are dreaming).
Then I rested in stillness, knowing there was nothing more important at that time than floating and filling with bliss. I wanted to stay there all day!
While floating, an idea from Testimony of Light entered my awareness regarding the existence of a Divine Blueprint for the work we set out to accomplish in our lifetime – and how it compares with the actual map of our human life when all is said and done. Every cell of my being seems to vibrate with a burning desire to attune to and follow my Divine Blueprint. I want to get down to business and do the work I intended to do. I’ve never felt it so strongly! Since returning from my recent retreat, the energy has been incredible! It’s blown open the door of my self-imposed prison and called, “Follow me!” And I am.
Still, I can’t help but wonder how far off course I’ve strayed by allowing myself to be driven by fear or a desire to please others. That method of traveling seems like taking a detour. Taking the long way home is not a failure. Nor is getting lost. There are times in life when we feel lost, especially when familiar markers are removed from the landscape of our journey. But what’s wonderful about realizing you’re lost is that you make an effort to dust off the map and find your way. Such times are opportunities to get back on course! Intuition is a useful navigational tool for realizing you’re lost and finding your way. It is my compass.
But perhaps in the grand scheme, the journey is more like a labyrinth with one winding path to the center. During times when we are driven by fear or other distractions, perhaps we just slow down and progress along the path in our own rhythm. Perhaps, despite periods of inertia, we’re never truly lost.
How interesting that when I entertained this thought, a dog came to the water’s edge and started barking at me. It reminded me of a story of a dog traveling to a particular town:
His journey was a very long one, taking two or three days as a rule, and yet he arrived before sunset of the same day. The dogs of that town were all surprised to see him so soon.
“Yes, it was a very long journey,” the dog said, “but I attribute my speed to the kindness and help of my fellow dogs. Since I left home, whenever I felt tired and tried to stop a moment to rest, four or five would run up and bark at me and want to bite me. So I had to run on without staying to rest in that place, or to search for food. And so it went on at every place I came to, until in the end I have arrived here at my destination.”
Citation: Khan, Hazrat Inayat (1991). Tales. New Lebanon, NY: Omega Publications.
As far as others are concerned, I can’t even begin to judge another human being’s path through life! It’s hard enough to discern and navigate my own!
There were so many dragonflies darting around on glistening, iridescent wings as I contemplated Divine Blueprints. So much life energy all around!
At one point, I experienced a moment of clarity from which a question – no, perhaps it was more like a prayer – bloomed like a lotus in my heart. And in that instant, a dragonfly landed on my arm for the first time all day. We remained completely still for quite some time regarding each other (or so it seemed), and I felt myself being drawn into dragonfly energy, as if it were the answer to my prayer, pollinating the lotus in my heart.
Then I felt it was time to paddle back home and engage with my to-do list. I focused on the sounds around me – a form of mindfulness meditation – and followed the sound back home.
But this wonderful energy remains, and I follow my intuition from one “yes” to another. It is an amazing feeling – this movement that has broken the spell of inertia.
© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (www.susantarameyer.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
by susantara | Apr 26, 2014 | Death, Dying, & Birth |
I’ve been sharing some really personal stuff lately on this blog, and I want to be clear about my intentions – not because anyone has inquired but because I feel the need to do so. Sharing my experience with my mom’s illness is not something I do out of narcissism. I’m not trying to set myself apart from anyone else who has made this journey. Nor do I seek attention or praise, although I do hope that writing fearlessly from my heart may be comforting or helpful to others – perhaps even my own family members. In the words of author, Elizabeth Gilbert, it seems to be what “Love is calling forth” from me now. Some insist it takes courage to share such a personal journey, but you know what? Some people are fearful of revealing details of their personal lives or innermost thoughts. Others fear change or speaking in public. There are countless, diverse fears that plague humanity, and I think when we take risks in the direction of authenticity, we help others to push past their own boundaries and barriers. It is a way to build bridges, heal, connect. Several times in the past week or so, a voice has arisen and commanded: “Write!!” Each time, my eyes widened in surprise, and I nodded and responded, “Okay!” I almost felt pushed in the direction of my laptop. So I write, not knowing why – only that I must and that it feels right to share the parts that don’t violate the privacy of others. I thank you for coming along for the ride.
It feels as if I’m in a sacred and tender place, and I still wish I could retreat to a cabin in the woods for a while and distance myself from many of my responsibilities. People often say it’s good to keep busy during times like this, to keep your mind occupied. They say having a routine to escape into is a blessing, for it makes everything else go away for a little while. But that is not true for me. I have a need to dive in and experience it fully, much like when I refused to take pain meds during childbirth. I wanted to be fully present to the miracle of a new universe (two, actually) being born through me and to experience it as intimately and completely as possible. I did not want to medicate the experience in order to dull the pain! I wanted to experience my own power and learn to surrender to the intense, raging contractions. And I’m not saying my way is ultimately any better than “taking the drugs.” It’s just my way; it’s what I needed to do. And I think it was good training.
Each person in my orbit seems to be dealing with my mom’s illness differently, in his or her own manner and rhythm. It feels strange and frustrating to brush up against the edges of another person’s fears, preconceptions, and limits. When I was kayaking on the calm river yesterday evening, I was completely alone except for some geese beating their wings against the surface of the river (a sound I love) and the first beavers I have seen this year. Although the beavers seemed less territorial than usual as I glided past, I was impressed by the power of the two tail slaps I witnessed. They spoke to me of clear boundaries and respecting the boundaries of others. I have to keep centering myself in love and compassion so I can honor and respect each person’s unique journey – and to remember that, even if we have different opinions about how to proceed, we are all united by our love for my mom.
Maybe all my responsibilities keep me grounded, but I don’t want gravity to keep my feet on the ground! I feel so supported by extraordinary energy that I sense most clearly when I am in nature, in the place between sleep and wakefulness, when I feel sad, and when I am alone and quiet. I have been craving solitude so I can perceive this energy more strongly and put this earthly experience into a larger context. I want to float.
Some people close to me have trouble knowing what to do or say. I especially appreciate the music people send my way. In general, music, art, and nature have more of an impression on me than logic and rational thought, or even words in general. But that’s just me. I honor the truths that sustain the lives of others. Some people need religion like plants need sunlight. Some need spirituality. Some need neither. It’s all fine to me. It’s hard – and would seem foolish – to argue with a painting or a symphony. Words are trickier, more jagged. But when someone offers me a scripture, for example, I accept it as a gift, even if it’s from a source from which I don’t tend to seek guidance, inspiration, or comfort. It does not matter how the religious context of the words relates to my beliefs (which are constantly expanding). When words are offered in the spirit of love, they become vessels of love.
Our fears, religious/spiritual beliefs, the way we grieve and give birth – along with myriad other aspects of the human condition – are so personal and diverse and deserve to be honored. That being said, in addition to listening to music, I have been doing more reading than usual, almost exclusively from what I call the “near-death” genre. In chronological order, I have read:
Each of these books has been a most illuminating companion on this journey, and I recommend each one enthusiastically if you are receptive to ideas and experiences beyond the ordinary. (Interested skeptics might want to begin with Proof of Heaven.) Each book resonates strongly with my own impressions and experiences, fills me with hope, and has brought tears of joy to my eyes by placing the human experience within a much larger perspective. Each of the books emphasizes that unconditional love is at the heart of the universe, which is something I find easy to believe perhaps because I was raised by such gentle, loving parents.
I have been strongly in touch with music since my mom’s diagnosis and would like to share some of the music that I have found particularly significant and uplifting in recent weeks. The first two classical pieces feel celestial and divinely inspired and were mentioned specifically in The Afterlife of Billy Fingers as hints of sound experiences in other realms.
The first one is the finale of Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 8 in E flat (Chorus Mysticus) depicting the closing scene of Goethe’s Faust epic, when Faust is welcomed into heaven. (I find the visuals of the “conductor” highly distracting and suggest closing your eyes once that part begins and letting the music fill you.)
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The following tone poem, The Swan of Tuonela, composed by Jean Sibelius provides another hint of “cosmic sound,” as described by Billy Fingers.
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And then there are some more contemporary songs friends have sent my way that contribute to the soundtrack of this leg of the journey:
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Blogger is not allowing me to post more than four YouTube videos, but HERE is a link to another song that really grabbed me: “Let Her Go” by Passenger.
I’m sure there will be much more music as the path ahead unfolds. And art. And nature. And floating, I hope.
© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (www.susantarameyer.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
by susantara | Apr 7, 2014 | Spiritual Journey |
I imagine you’ve heard the proverb, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” For the past week or so, my teacher has been Anita Moorjani’s book, Dying to Be Me (Hay House, 2012) – which I finally got around to reading! This is an inspirational memoir written by a woman who was dying of end-stage lymphoma, had a near-death experience (NDE), and returned to her body knowing for certain that her cancer would be healed completely. It is an amazing, profoundly inspiring account. As miraculous as the medical piece is, what impresses me most is the way her life changed as a result of what she experienced during her NDE.
I was intrigued by the author’s descriptions of how her NDE transformed the way she perceived and lived her life because so much of what she had to say described with surprising accuracy the way I have come to perceive and relate to the world. However, there is one major difference. Right before deciding to return to her body, she was guided to go back and live her life fearlessly. And she did. Eliminating fear transformed her life completely, and I realize this is precisely what has been holding me back. (You, too, perhaps?) The rest of this post is a reflection I wrote when I was midway through the book and inspired deeply by the author’s revelation that love is the nature of the entire universe and our true essence, as well. Since so much synchronicity occurred as I read and reflected on this book, it feels right to share my reflections. (There is something very powerful and magical about this book!) So here goes…
I spent decades believing it was of the utmost importance to figure out what kind of work I should do – meaning what kind of paid job I should devote my life to. I felt this was predestined, and if I did not figure it out correctly, then my life would be wasted; I would have failed, and I would be held accountable in the end. (I had a tendency to put a lot of pressure on myself.) I believed there was one thing I was meant to do, it was my Life’s Purpose, and it was so important to discern it and to have the discipline to see it through. But I’m realizing now that what’s most important isn’t what I do but what I am.
I am love, and so are you.
If I am love, it doesn’t matter what I do. What I do becomes an expression of who I am. I suspect that many situations can be transformed from the inside out if we stop focusing on outcomes and accomplishments and allow the love that we are to flow through us. It is a choice to cut off the flow, whether or not we are aware that we are doing so. We can align ourselves with any situation by surrendering to the flow and allowing our essence – love – to be expressed in the world. Not our ego desires, but our true essence. When love comes through, miracles happen.
And yet, there are times when it seems love seeks new expression. There may be another way in which our essence can manifest more fully through our work and actions in the world. Too much thinking can get in the way of allowing this to happen. Imprisoned by fear, our minds generate countless reasons to stay where we are and not risk change. I think of the great blue herons I observe on the riverbank. They know when to move on to a new spot – when conditions are no longer favorable and other spots offer greater possibilities.
Imagine a heron too afraid to move to a new spot along the river when the food supply at its current location is insufficient, or a predator or other threat encroaches its space, or it is time to migrate to a warmer climate. How absurd! The heron knows instinctively what it needs to survive and takes swift action. Not bogged down by the human mind’s compulsion to process the situation in detail, it moves with the flow of life, lifting into the air and following its instincts to a new spot.
“When we try to move with this flow rather than adhere dogmatically to the doctrines of others or the beliefs we once had that no longer serve us, we more accurately reflect who and what we truly are.” -Anita Moorjani (Dying to Be Me, p. 154)
I think of my true essence (or “infinite self” as Moorjani sometimes calls it) as a heron that discerns when conditions have shifted enough to inhibit its fullest expression. I have spent a lot of time observing herons and can tell when they begin to feel uneasy and are about to rise into the air and squawk en route to a new spot. I recognize that unease and restlessness in me and realize that what is different between the heron and me is a mind fettered by fear.
Moorjani explains:
“The mind is more about doing, and the soul is more about being… The intellect is just a tool for navigating through this life…while the soul only wants to express itself.” (Dying to Be Me, p. 146)
She continues:
“I have discovered that to determine whether my actions stem from ‘doing’ or ‘being,’ I only need to look at the emotion behind my everyday decisions. Is it fear, or is it passion? If everything I do each day is driven by passion and a zest for living, then I’m ‘being,’ but if my actions are a result of fear, then I’m in ‘doing’ mode.” (Dying to Be Me, p. 147)
I have spent countless hours on the river searching for definitive answers about what to do in matters large and small. Once, the river told me to write, so I did. The little voice within tells me to keep writing, so I am. I think the path of the infinite self unfolds when we find our center and do what we feel drawn to do from that centered awareness – when we are still enough to hear it speak. I am beginning to recognize the voice of my infinite self that arises when I am not immersed in thought and urges me to take a certain action. It’s like a little nudge. Make this phone call. Read this book. Message this person. Pause for a bit. Plan an exhibit. It has a different quality to it than my thinking mind – like the difference between intuition and thought – and when I follow it, I feel more alive. It feels right. It’s different than checking off items on a to-do list.
It seems to me that the path unfolds when we stop allowing fear to hold us back and do what we feel drawn to do each step of the way because we realize how precious our time is and that we help the world to evolve by allowing our essence to be expressed as magnificently and completely as possible. (A major theme of Moorjani’s message is to remember our “magnificence.”) I truly believe that when we follow and express our true essence – love – the universe responds and supports us. But first, we must stop clinging to the alligator we have mistaken for a safe and stable rock and surrender to the flow of the love that we are.
© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (www.susantarameyer.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
by susantara | Dec 12, 2013 | Decluttering & Simplicity |
Can you imagine a holiday season without any television commercials about gifts to consider giving your loved ones – or what Christmas (or life in general) supposedly looks like?
Welcome to my life.
It’s been about 13 years since I’ve had television reception, by choice. And honestly, I don’t miss it at all. At this time of year, I especially don’t miss the commercials that try to convince us that we’re somehow lacking or would be happier or more loved if only we (or a loved one) had this or looked like that. I, for one, am not buying it.
My husband and I don’t even really give Christmas gifts to each other because neither of us is interested in stuff. I’m more interested in getting rid of stuff. And I truly think that not watching television contributes greatly to this mindset. Almost all the time, I am blissfully unaware of all the products and services I don’t have. When I go to someone’s house and the TV is on, I am blown away by how matter-of-fact the commercials are: “Of course you have this. Everybody does! But here are all the reasons why you need to upgrade to this.” And there is also a very clear standard of how you are expected to look. Well, I didn’t get that memo, either! I am so glad not to be bombarded by these messages on a regular basis – because I might start to believe them! They are quite powerful.
Bottom line is, my husband and I are pallid consumers. We have had experience living on very little and as a result know how little we actually need to live. Money was especially tight when I was working on my master’s degree and completing my student teaching at the same time that my ex-husband’s consulting firm went under, leaving him unable to pay child support. But we made it through. And we learned how to live creatively. Now I am in a better situation and am truly grateful for a steady paycheck and health insurance. However, knowing how to live on so little was a valuable life lesson, a gift.
I once read about someone who lost everything in a natural disaster and said that you never really understand how much “nothing” is until that’s what you’ve got. In 1998, I witnessed this right before my very eyes after a tornado ripped through the central Florida town in which I lived. The tornado actually skimmed our subdivision, sending my children’s Little Tikes outdoor equipment (a slide and a sit-inside car) flying through the air. We found them a couple lots away the next day.
People around us were not so fortunate. Right outside the walls of our small subdivision, it looked as though a bomb had exploded. Cars were lodged inside what was left of apartment buildings. Some houses and buildings were totally leveled. At least one queen-size mattress had come to rest right against the wall of our gated subdivision. So many people around us – within 1/16th of a mile in more than one direction – had mere seconds around midnight to prepare for a disaster that would literally uproot their lives. Clothing and rooftops were in trees, trees were inside houses, and personal items were strewn about for miles. In the light of a new day, people who had lost everything walked around smiling because they survived. They returned to the rubble in hopes of retrieving some family photos because that was what they valued the most, for the photos were truly irreplaceable. But in most cases, in the end all they were left with was memories and gratitude. Whenever I went into a gas station, post office, grocery store, etc., I would hear people expressing how grateful they were simply to have survived. It was surreal.
Our family lives more comfortably now than we did back in the lean years, but we still cannot afford to buy a home. However, having “owned” a brand new home in Florida, I realize that home ownership is not essential to happiness – so I’m not buying that myth, either. We rent a small, old house that we sometimes refer to as our “camp.” It has just one teeny tiny bathroom and three unbelievably small closets, and all the rooms are very small. Sometimes I look around and feel sorry that we don’t live in a “nicer” home, but that is usually just a passing thought because a little voice swiftly breaks up the pity party by reminding me that we have always had enough and that compared to so many people on this planet, ours is a life of luxury. We have hot, running water and more food than our smallish refrigerator can hold. We have a wood stove and oil to keep us warm through the winter. We have an amazing view of the sunrise over the river every morning. And of course, we have each other. We truly are blessed.
I read an interview Maria Shriver did with poet Mary Oliver in which Mary Oliver, discussing her calling to be a poet, explained:
“When I was very young and decided I wanted to try to write as well as I could, I made a great list of all the things I would never have…would not have, because I thought poets never made any money. A house, a good car, I couldn’t go out and buy fancy clothes or go to good restaurants. I had the necessities.”
When asked if she ever had second thoughts about her choice of occupation, she replied:
“I’ve always wanted to write poems and nothing else. There were times over the years when life was not easy, but if you’re working a few hours a day and you’ve got a good book to read, and you can go outside to the beach and dig for clams, you’re okay.”
Mary Oliver followed her heart with regard to her vocation, as my husband has done with his music. He never compromised his true passion because he always valued expressing himself musically over having possessions. (His creative spirit and kind heart were what attracted me to him in the first place.) And whether or not you ultimately receive your big break as an artist, you are truly rich and richly blessed when you follow your deepest calling, regardless of the balance on your bank statement. (If, on the other hand, you place a higher value on possessions and comfort, perhaps the artist life is too great a risk to pursue full-time.)
During my weaker, more clouded moments when I sink into feelings of not measuring up to others in terms of our home or financial situation, I have a few books in the bookcase to put everything back into perspective:
…and a brand new acquisition:
Really, any books by Peter Menzel would do the trick, but I only own the two listed above. All of these books put our “first world” lifestyles into perspective by offering images (or – in the case of If the World Were a Village – data) of people around the world in their home environments. Many of the images are of people who have what we might refer to as “nothing.” No toilets, running water, beds, walls, appliances, etc. It is impossible to feel sorry for yourself when you look at images of people who have so much less – but whose spirit is intact and shines through their eyes and smiles. And this is something I always want to remember. It provides a profound reality check to our first-world, consumerist standards.
Perhaps what I am trying to describe is best summarized by the following video – an ad for Water is Life – in which “first world” gripes are read by Haitian adults and children.
At a time of year when advertisers pull out all the stops to persuade us to want more and spend more, perhaps we can pause to reflect on what is truly important. This time of year can be so difficult when we focus on what we don’t have or are unable to give – whether it’s a different family situation or a material thing. Give what you are able to give, joyfully and without apology, for we and our loved ones probably already have enough stuff to begin with. In the interest of sharing the gift of perspective during the holiday season, may we remind one another to honor and give thanks for what we already have and not allow ourselves to be stressed out or discouraged by what is ultimately small and relative in the grand scheme of things.
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© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (www.riverblissed.blogspot.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
by susantara | Jun 18, 2013 | Teach Our Children Well |
My daughter graduates from high school this week! My, how time flies! When she was a baby, older folks (almost always, women) would approach me with a sparkle in their eyes and tell me to savor this time because children grow up so fast.
I found that difficult to believe back when she was a baby and a good night’s sleep was an elusive dream, or later when I spent my days chasing after an energetic, mischievous little runner-climber. I remember how difficult it was while pregnant with my second child to take a nap in the presence of my daughter who, at 2 1/2, had long since given up napping. My bright idea was to babyproof a room completely, with barely more than a futon mattress on the floor and a variety of toys to keep her occupied while I attempted to nap. But after a few minutes, when I was just starting to fall asleep, she’d tell me she needed to use the toilet. So I put her training potty in the room with us. And then, rather than use it for its intended purpose, she employed it as a step stool and attempted to climb over the baby gate and jailbreak when I was nearly asleep. Her timing was impeccable.
She also infamously led other toddlers in a momentary breakout from the health club’s child care room into the parking lot while I was on the treadmill – an event the former owner and I laugh about to this day (although we weren’t laughing then).
It was always a gamble to leave my daughter alone in a room. Once I left her in the kitchen unattended for a minute or two, and in that time she managed to mastermind a way to climb onto the countertop to gain access to a bag of cheese puffs that were stored up in a cabinet. Her (premeditated?) route involved pulling out drawers and climbing on the washing machine to work her way around the kitchen on countertops. (In hindsight, maybe I should have kept a bag of cheese puffs in the babyproofed room where I tried to nap!)
By the time she was preschool age, we found it necessary to install a home security system and chain locks high up on the doors so Little Houdini couldn’t open the doors and escape. (Strategically placed chain locks alone were insufficient because she would stack pillows, sofa cushions, and whatever else she could find to attain her goal of freedom.)
The preteen and teen years were really rough, especially once I began teaching full-time and moved to the neighboring school district. Within months of moving and beginning my first year of teaching, she moved in with her dad full-time and was able to return to her former school district, spending summers and school vacations with me until this past year.
This is a soul that has always refused to be confined or hindered. Now that she has greater freedom, she seems so much happier, more motivated, and stable. She doesn’t seem to mind the responsibilities that go along with greater freedom – and even embraces them – because independence seems so necessary in order for her to thrive.
I was tired by the end of the day but never for a moment regretted staying home with her when she was little. Although we didn’t have a second paycheck, we were rich in golden moments, and I journaled and wrote lots of poetry about magical moments with my daughter. We spent rainy days reading books and watching birds feast from feeders mounted outside the large picture window. It was so amazing and life transforming to bond with her and to see the world through a child’s eyes that when I finally prepared to re-enter the working world after her little brother started kindergarten, I knew I needed to work with children and changed gears completely to pursue a career in teaching. But back in the early years, time passed in milestones: smiling, rolling, crawling, eating solid food, cruising, first steps, walking, weaning. Each day blended into the next, and it almost felt like time stood still. It was impossible to imagine that she would grow up as quickly as the older folks assured me she would. I think life really sped up once she began school.
Now that I’m on the other side, with an 18-year-old daughter who began taking college courses last fall, I realize how very true the words of the older folks were. Children grow up more quickly than any new parent could ever imagine. Now I’m one of the older moms who looks wistfully at new moms wearing their babies in slings or wraps, remembering how precious it all was. And knowing how fast it goes by – and that someday they, too, will wish they could hold their baby just one more time or read one more bedtime story. These small moments that seem so routine and eternal are the moments that matter most when you look back. You don’t remember how tired you were. You remember the splendor of ordinary moments. That ultimately eclipses all else.
My daughter’s path hasn’t been what I had envisioned for her, but it is her path, and I have learned the hard, roundabout way to honor and trust it. She has always been fiercely independent and unbridled, creative and compassionate. Although she is currently interested in business, she is also a talented writer, singer, and pianist. How she will weave together the strands of her personality, talents, passions, and choices into the fabric of her life remains to be seen. I surely hope to be around to watch it come together in a pattern that is uniquely hers.
I have been putting together a graduation gift for her and am excited to give it to her. It’s not money (which I’m sure any teenager would prefer) but comes from the depths of my heart. My desire is to pass along some life wisdom to her via a collection of books that have been particularly influential in my life. Some of the books are dear friends that I have turned to in times of sadness, confusion, and/or when I sought answers and guidance. Many of them have lifted my spirits and opened new doors of awareness and possibility. Every one of the books was a response to the questions: What do I want my daughter to know about life? What kind of wisdom would I like to pass along to her? What is most important for her to know? If someday I’m not around when she needs motherly advice, what resources can I give her to help her along her way?
Fast forward from my daughter’s napless toddlerhood to this afternoon, when I set out to acquire books for her graduation collection. While stopped at a red light in town, I noticed a woman in the car behind me and thought for a moment that she was trying to get my attention for some reason but couldn’t figure out why. Was there something wrong with my car that I didn’t know about? When I looked again in my rear view mirror, it didn’t appear that she was trying to get my attention after all; she was moving her hands in a curious way that my mind interpreted as perhaps smoking a cigarette with panache. I continued to drive along the road, and when I stopped at the next light, I thought once again that the same woman was trying to get my attention. This time, her arms were held out to her sides in a gesture that begged to know, “What is wrong with you?” I wondered what on earth I could have done to upset this woman. And then I realized that the woman was my daughter and waved exuberantly at her! In our separate cars, we shared a good laugh, and then I waved again as I turned and she continued on (not smoking, I might add). Never before have we followed each other on the road unintentionally. And the fact that it happened for the first time – and that she looked so grown up behind the wheel that I didn’t even recognize her – while I was on a mission to buy books for her graduation present was highly significant to me. How perfect!
Anyway…
Here are the books I selected and why:
The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran: A friend whom I knew only for a summer and experienced as a kindred spirit loaned me his copy after we spent a day boating on Cayuga Lake with friends and engaging in philosophical conversation. This book awakened something in me and left my soul rejoicing. I bought a copy for myself that same week, and it has been like a bible to me ever since, offering advice about Love, Joy and Sorrow, Children, Pain, Marriage, Teaching, Work, and many other aspects of life. It’s been a while since I’ve read it, but I know many passages by heart, and I think it would be interesting to see what chapters would resonate most with me now. Probably many of the ones I found less compelling when I was younger. This book turned me on to the Lebanese-born poet, Kahlil Gibran, and I went on to read the rest of his published works and to think of him as a soulmate of sorts.
Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach: My dear, departed friend, David, gave me a copy of this book when I graduated from high school. It was a mind-blower that started me on my spiritual journey. It is the story of a spiritual mentorship (making it a perfect gift from my first spiritual mentor) that forms between the author (a writer and biplane pilot) and a former mechanic who teaches the author how to let go of the personal limitations that he passively allowed to define him and the world around him. Interspersed throughout the story are passages from the “Messiah’s Handbook and Reminders for the Advanced Soul,” and I memorized and was intrigued by nearly every one of these gems. I read several of Richard Bach’s books after this one and found them all to be illuminating and magical. Giving my daughter this book is like passing on the torch that David handed to me. It is an empowering book to read when you’re feeling stuck.
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho: Soon after we met, my husband insisted that I read this book, and I’ve never had a book recommended by so many kindred spirits. It is a fictional account of a quest to find a treasure and all of the helpers and circumstances the main character encounters on the journey that point him in the direction of the treasure. It is an inspirational story about listening to your heart and following your dreams. One of my favorite children’s picture books, The Treasure by Uri Shulevitz, has striking similarities to this novel. It was so enchanting that I ended up reading many more novels by Paulo Coelho, who has become my favorite novelist.
A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle: Eckhart Tolle is one of my main gurus, and it all began with this illuminating non-fiction book about entering the present moment and transcending ego consciousness. I love his explanation of the pain body, which I think my daughter (a quintuple Scorpio) will relate to. I think she also will appreciate his lack of religious language. His teachings make sense, and so much of what he talks about I know to be true through personal experience. I practice “entering the now” every day of my life and have been transformed and enriched by doing so.
Oneness with All Life by Eckhart Tolle: This is a beautiful edition of inspirational passages from A New Earth. It is one of my favorite books to open to a random page and read whatever I find there when I seek guidance or inspiration.
Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl: This is the author’s personal account of being a prisoner in Nazi death camps and how the suffering endured by him and fellow prisoners became a path of renewed purpose and meaning. This book was assigned reading for a Death and Immortality course I took as an undergraduate. The author asserts, “It is possible to practice the art of living even in a concentration camp, although suffering is omnipresent.” Survivors accomplished this through a sense of humor and noticing beauty in the natural world. Well, if people were able to practice the art of living under such deplorable conditions, we have no excuses! This is also a book that makes you count your blessings. I had trouble deciding between this book or Night by Elie Wiesl. I like the way Frankl’s book emphasizes the importance of having a sense of purpose and meaning that makes life worth living.
Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom: In this popular book, the author reconnects with a former college professor during the final months of the professor’s life and learns important lessons about life as his mentor approaches death. This is a book that puts life into perspective and highlights what really matters.
The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch: One year on our professional development staff day at the beginning of the school year, the principal showed a video of Randy Pausch, a Carnegie-Mellon professor who had been diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer, giving a lecture about living life to the fullest and pursuing our dreams. This book is an easy read based on the principles he presented in the lecture. It’s similar in theme to Tuesdays with Morrie – a book that looks at the Big Picture.
A Thousand Mornings by Mary Oliver: Everyone needs a good collection of poetry. This is Mary Oliver’s most recent book, and I want my daughter to have it because it’s so lyrical and inspiring and focuses largely on the wonders of the natural world. It took a while to decide which volume of Mary Oliver’s poems to give my daughter. I plan to attach a couple of my favorite poems found in other volumes to the inside cover. It’s something she can read during a quiet moment when she needs a lift or is trying to make sense of her place in the world. I like this collection because it has fewer religious references than some of the author’s other works – something my daughter would appreciate.
Life’s Journeys According to Mister Rogers: Things to Remember Along the Way by Fred Rogers: Mister Rogers always had a way of making you feel good about yourself. This little book is a collection of nuggets and gentle advice that we all need to be reminded of from time to time.
Tales of a Female Nomad: Living at Large in the World by Rita Golden Gelman: This is a personal account – kind of like a travelogue – written by a woman who gave up her house and possessions and became a nomad back in 1986. She remains a nomad today and continues to write about her adventures on her website and blog! How interesting – I just visited her blog so I could link to it and discovered that right now she is staying in the Berkshires, which is very close to where I live! And equally fascinating, her latest blog post discusses Viktor Frankl’s book, Man’s Search for Meaning, which I listed above! The book is filled with fascinating accounts of the author’s experiences with people in different cultures around the world. It reaffirms the goodness of people all over the world and the reality of serendipity and chance meetings that open one to a whole new world of possibility. What possibilities and blessings are we passing by because we are functioning as creatures of habit, not fully seeing or perceiving the living world around us? What possibilities might we discover by being truly present when we interact with others by listening, by speaking our truth and being honest about our needs, by lending a helping hand?
Manuscript Found in Accra by Paulo Coelho: This is the author’s latest book, and it reads very much like Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet. It is loaded with wisdom that really resonates and inspires. I find myself quoting it frequently lately.
The Four Agreements: A Toltec Wisdom Book by Don Miguel Ruiz: A colleague gave me this book a few years ago, and it contains a lot of practical wisdom around the “four agreements” for rising above self-limiting beliefs that compromise our quality of life: 1) Be impeccable with your word, 2) Don’t take anything personally, 3) Don’t make assumptions, 4) Always do your best.
Women in the Material World by Faith D’Alusio and Peter Menzel: This book provides, through gorgeous photos and compelling commentary, an intimate look at the lives of 20 different women in different countries and cultures throughout the world. It underscores what women around the globe have in common and also how our lives are, in many cases, dramatically different. I have opened up this book countless times when I was feeling down, and it never failed to remind me that I am blessed beyond belief and share a connection with women around the globe, who experience the same feelings, frustrations, and joys that I do. At times when my energy is vulnerable and I think that my life situation doesn’t measure up to the standards our society seems to expect, this book sets me straight! I hope it will serve this purpose for my daughter, too. She and I have enjoyed exploring the companion book, Material World, together over the years, as well.
Warrior of the Light: A Manual by Paulo Coelho: Is it obvious that I love Paulo Coelho’s writing? This is a phenomenal companion to The Alchemist that offers wisdom for our life’s quests. I bought my copy of this book when I was pursuing a career in teaching, and it provided perspective that kept me fighting the good fight to attain my goal.
The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom: I have loved everything I have read by Mitch Albom and am convinced that his work is deeply inspired. I was in a college bookstore many years ago perusing the required and recommended books for various graduate teaching courses, and this book was on the list for one course. It speaks to the potential within each of us to change someone’s life. Although this book wasn’t originally on my list, it revealed itself in a way that convinced me it needed to be included in the collection. I could have included any of Mitch Albom’s other novels, as well.
Happiness: A Guide to Developing Life’s Most Important Skill by Matthieu Ricard (not pictured): The title of this book says it all. I want my daughter to be happy on her life’s journey, and this is my favorite book about happiness, written by a biochemist turned Buddhist monk in the Tibetan tradition. It offers practical, sound advice synthesized with neuroscience.
I intend to present the books to my daughter in a wooden crate. I have had so much fun planning and putting together this present!
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