TGIF: Trust, Gratitude, Inspiration and Faith

I completely agree with the German humourist, poet, illustrator and painter, Wilhelm Busch, who once wrote, "Happiness often comes from paying attention to small things, unhappiness often from neglecting small things."

Because I believe that being open to, aware of, awake to the "small things" around us, the small experiences which happen to us, can give us a great and very useful sense of perspective. Let me give you a recent example: yesterday, I was driving to Danetre Hospital for my pre-op assessment, and feeling moderately terrified. But the autumn foliage on the trees by the side of the road was absolutely glorious to see - all the shades of yellow, orange, brown, copper, bronze, burgundy and red - and seeing them, appreciating their beauty, soothed my fears immensely.

And during my appointment, the consultant surgeon who is going to do my operation treated me with respect and kindness, explaining clearly what is going to happen, and listening to and answering all my questions. Which helped to pull me out of my fear and to begin to feel a certain quiet confidence that all would be well. 

I'm sure that during the next couple of weeks, I will have regular intervals of fear and trembling, but I also know that my habit of noticing the "small things" will help  to bring me back to myself - the self who has faith that everything will work out okay; that I might be uncomfortable for a few weeks, but in the end, it will have been worth it.

Brené Brown has much to say about the benefits of gratitude. She writes in The Gifts of Imperfection, "We need both happiness and joy.... But in addition to creating happiness in our lives, I've learned that we need to cultivate the spiritual practices that lead to joyfulness, especially gratitude. In my own life, I'd like to experience more happiness, but I want to live from a place of gratitude and joy."

And, "I believe a joyful life is made up of joyful moments gracefully strung together by trust, gratitude, inspiration and faith."

I couldn't agree more. Which is why one of my spiritual practices is an evening gratitude practice - under the heading 'Small Pleasures', I record in my journal at least three things that have made me feel grateful that day. They can be tiny things, such as "Fitbit synced!" or huge things, like the recent birth of my grandson. Or regular quiet pleasures, like "nice, relaxing evening with Maz, Luna, and crochet."

And because I record these small pleasures every day, I have some ammunition to overcome the feelings of dread and fear.... And that conversely, if I did not have a daily gratitude practice, I believe it would be only too easy to get lost in the negativity, thus causing myself unnecessary suffering. So my resolution for the next few weeks is: I will do my best to do all the things the surgeon advises me to do, then trust that everything will work out well.

"Trust, Gratitude, Inspiration, Faith." I commend them to you as a better, more joyful way of living, more sure and reliable than "Thank God It's Friday." 

Finding True Rest and Peace

 In this frantic century of ours, it can be difficult to find true rest and peace. Ferdinando Galliani, the 18th century Italian economist, who was also a leading figure of the Enlightenment, once wrote, "True peace can only lie in the truth."

Perhaps he means that we can only be at peace when we allow ourselves to be our truest, most authentic selves. When we are not trying to put on a show, put our "best face forward" and hide what we are really feeling. As though it is not allowed for us to feel tired, edgy, out-of-sorts.

Brené Brown has this to say about perfectionism: "Perfectionism is not about healthy achievement and growth. Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimise or avoid the pain of blame, judgement and shame. It's a shield.... Perfectionism is, at its core, about trying to earn approval and acceptance. Most perfectionists were raised being praised for achievement and performance... Somewhere along the way, we adopt this dangerous and debilitating belief system: I am what I accomplish and how well I accomplish it. Please. Perform. Perfect."

I am a recovering perfectionist and a striving good-enougher. I have come to understand that perfectionism is exhausting and debilitating, and that good enough really *is* good enough, 99.99% of the time. If I had not learned this lesson, by trying and failing, and learning to receive feedback without falling apart, I would not have become a published author, for example. I would not have dared to submit anything less than a perfect MS to any publisher. 

Authenticity matters. Being our true selves matters. Letting go of what other people think matters. To quote Brené Brown again, 

"Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we are supposed to be and embracing who we are. Choosing authenticity means

    * cultivating the courage to be imperfect, to set boundaries, and to allow ourselves to be vulnerable

    * exercising the compassion that comes from knowing that we are all made of strength and struggle

    * nurturing the connection and sense of belonging that can only happen when we believe that we are enough."

Ever since I discovered her book, The Gifts of Imperfection,  more than a decade ago, I have done my best to live authentically. It ain't easy, but oh my goodness, it has made me feel so much more whole. So much more at home in my skin. As Galliani says, "True peace can only lie in the truth."

What's the Hurry?

 This week's quotation, by Austrian writer, Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach, is true, but so counter-cultural for us to hear. "Whoever says patience, says courage, perseverance, strength."

Because we live in a world of do it now, get it done, then on to the next thing. But sometimes (I would say, more often than not) it would be better if we could find the patience to take the time needed to do a good job. And also time to appreciate what we have just done. A breathing space.

In her wonderful book, The Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown writes about "the new cultural belief that everything should be fun, fast and easy [which] sets us up for hopelessness. When we experience somthing that is difficult and requires significant time and effort, we are quick to think, This is supposed to be easy; it's not worth the effort or This should be easier: it's only hard and slow because I'm not good at it. Hopeful self-talk sounds more like, This is tough, but I can do it."

Which requires patience, courage, perseverance and strength. Brown goes on to write, "We develop a hopeful mind-set when we understand that some worthy endeavours will be difficult and time-consuming and not enjoyable at all. Hope also requires us to understand that just because the process of reaching a goal happens to be fun, fast, and easy doesn't mean that it has less value than a difficult goal. If we want to cultivate hopefulness, we have to be willing to be flexible and demonstrate perseverance. Not every goal will look and feel the same. Tolerance for disappointment, determination and a belief in self are the heart of hope."

So when we're getting bogged down in and/or impatient about whatever we're working on, let's try to remember that we're here for the long haul. I find it helpful to ask myself: "Will this matter in a month? in a year? in five years?"

Which helps me to regain some perspective and to be sufficiently patient and persevere with whatever it is.

A Love of Mystery

The Unitarian and Transcendentalist writer, Ralph Waldo Emerson, wrote, "I prefer to live in a world surrounded by mysteries, rather than in one so small, that my mind can comprehend it."

 And one of my best-loved non-fiction authors, Brené Brown, wrote in my favourite book of hers, The Gifts of Imperfection, that she initially believed that "faith meant 'there's a reason for everything'" Then she discovered that "faith meant something else to [the men and women living the Wholehearted journey]." Which led her to redefine faith, based on the responses she was hearing from them, "Faith is a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear of uncertainty."

I believe that our lives are richer if we can find that courage, and love the mystery, the sacred not-knowing of life. Theologican Frederick Buechner wrote, "Faith is better understood as a verb rather than as a noun, as a process rather than a possession. It is on-again-off-again, rather than once-and-for-all. Faith is about not being sure where you're going, but going anyway. And theologian Paul Tillich wrote, "Doubt isn't the opposite of faith; it is an element of faith."

Unitarians have a great capacity for mystery, for "living in the questions", as Rainer Maria Rilke put it. For example, we can never prove that God exists (or doesn't exist). But we can have faith that He (or She or It) does. And live our lives as though we believed it. Which I think is what Emerson meant when he said he preferred to "live in a world surrounded by mysteries." 

Unitarian faith often includes a healthy dollop of doubt - not taking anything for graned, not accepting anything without questioning it first. We have always been in the habit of questioning beliefs and cherishing doubts. I would guess that many of us came to Unitarianism precisely by that path - by starting to question some of the beliefs we grew up with. In my case, I realised that I could not accept the divinity of Jesus as the unique Son of God, and also struggled with the idea that his death on the cross somehow put me back into right relationship with God. But to quote Jan Carlsson-Bull, Unitarians have learned to "hold faith and doubt in reverent balance". 

Which means actively searching for and working out what gives your life meaning, putting your whole heart and mind and soul into it, and yet at the same time, totally respecting the right of every other member of your Unitarian community to disagree with you. It can be a tough call, sometimes.

Holding faith and doubt in reverent balance, living and loving in mystery, also means being open to new ideas, from wherever they come. Unitarianism at its best is a wonderfully open way of approaching life and religion, based on an appeal to reason, conscience and our own lived experience. It is an ongoing process - you don't just experience a one-off conversion and then rest on those fixed beliefs for the rest of your life; every Unitarian has a duty to approach all new ideas and concepts reverently and critically, and take from them what speaks to our own reason and conscience, and what makes sense in the context of our own lived experience, in order to live out our lives in the best and truest way we can, making room for mystery, for uncertainty, along the way

Calm, Never Restless or Impatient

This week's quotation is by Henry David Thoreau, friend of Emerson, and Transcendentalist writer. "The wise man is calm, never restless or impatient. He is completely present to every moment."

I wonder whether he was being aspirational, when he wrote this. Because the Thoreau I have read about believed in throwing himself in to life, in experiencing it deeply. Here is a famous quotation from Walden:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion."

The words "calm, never restless or impatient" remind me more of the Buddha, when he had achieved Enlightenment. Free from desires and suffering, he had discovered true calm.

It is a rare gift, this quality of calm. Brené Brown calls it a "super-power". She defines it as "creating perspective and mindfulness while managing emotional reactivity." Because remaining calm in an anxious situation can help to defuse the anxiety, whereas a panicked response will escalate it. It's about counting to ten before responding. It's about not believing every Facebook meme you see and instantly reacting to it, but rather going to the source and discovering the true story.

My favourite advice of hers about calm is the two questions she has learned to ask herself before responding to any situation:

1 "Do I have enough information to freak out?"
2 Even if the answer to question 1 is "yes", "Will freaking out help?"

The answer is always, always "no".

Being "calm, never restless or impatient" is wise advice, something we should all aspire to. If I am getting wound up about something, it helps if I breathe, slowly and quietly. And run through the words of the beautiful Celtic prayer:

Deep Peace of the running waves to you.

Deep Peace of the flowing air to you.

Deep Peace of the quiet earth to you.

Deep peace of the shining stars to you.

Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you.

Control versus Faith

For the first time, I disagree root and branch with Baltasar Gracian y Morales, the author of this week's quotation. He writes, "The only time we can really control is the future. We can shape it according to our wishes."

Um, no, we cannot. Brené Brown explains this beautifully in her Sounds True course The Power of Vulnerability, when she says, "How many of you love someone? Hands across the room. How many of you can be sure that person loves you back? That they will love you tomorrow?" (I'm paraphrasing from memory).

The fact is, we have NO control over the future. None. The only time we can really control is the instant of the present, when we can choose to respond to whatever is in front of us in this way or that way. And even then, we can get hijacked by our emotions, and respond in a way we didn't want to, didn't plan to.

We may, perhaps, influence the future, by our actions and words in the present. We may have faith that something is going to turn out one way or another, and may work towards that goal. But because we live in the infinite complexities of the real world, full of other people and a myriad of events, we cannot control the future.

To give a mundane example, I have organised many conferences and courses - booked the speakers and the venue, publicised the event as best I can, done all the paperwork to ensure that the day runs smoothly. BUT when the day comes, I cannot control how the speaker(s) and the participants will interact, nor what the participants will learn or gain from their attendance. I have to take that on faith.

Perhaps faith is about letting go of the need for certainty, and going forward joyously into the unknown, keeping ourselves open to respond to whatever happens.

Approaching the Future with Joy

This week's quotation, by Epicurus of Samos, seems almost paradoxical, "Those who are least concerned about tomorrow, go to meet it with the most enthusiasm."

I had to read it several times, before I suddenly understood what it means. And why it is so appropriate in the first week of a new year. Particularly this new year, which so many of us are entering with great foreboding. I think it's about what Brené Brown calls "foreboding joy".

She explains this, in her book, Daring Greatly, "Softening into the joyful moments of our lives requires vulnerability. If, like me, you've ever stood over your children [sleeping] and thought to yourself, I love you so much I can hardly breathe, and in that exact moment have been flooded with images of something terrible happening to your child, [that is foreboding joy]. ... Once we make the connection between vulnerability and joy, the answer is pretty straightforward: We're trying to beat vulnerability to the punch. We don't want to be blindsided by hurt. We don't want to be caught off-guard, so we literally practice being devastated or never move from self-elected disappointment."

Approaching the future with joy requires vulnerability. The road to happiness means being "least concerned" about tomorrow, not spending all our days worrying and anxious about what *might* happen. Because, here's the thing. Very often, it won't.

I heard a lovely quotation years ago, not sure who it's by:

"Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.... and all is well."

Anxiety and worry are very real, and very debilitating. And fatal to present happiness. I count myself very blessed in being a natural optimist. I am married to a natural pessimist, who is always waiting "for the other shoe to drop" as Brené Brown puts it.

Perhaps I am naïve, always hoping for the best. But it is a much happier way to live. I have faith that things will turn out alright in the end, and that I must work to help that to happen. 

So not just blind faith, but faith and works. Let's go forward into 2020 with a zeal to work for a better future.  For all of us.

It's A Wonderful Life

I've just been watching one of my two* favourite Christmas films, It's A Wonderful Life. It stars James Stewart as the central character, George Bailey, who lives in the first half of the last century in the small town of Bedford Falls, runs the local building society, and lives in a ramshackle house on the edge of town with his wife and children.

Trying not to spoil the plot, I'll just say that as the film begins, George has hit rock bottom, and wonders bitterly whether he has wasted his whole life. All his contemporaries, and his younger brother, have left the town and got on, got ahead, but chance and circumstance, combined with a strong sense of duty and honour, have kept George in Bedford Falls.

He is on the point of suicide, believing that it would be better if he had never lived, when his own personal guardian angel, Clarence, intervenes, and proceeds to show George the many ways in which he has made a difference for the better. There is a wonderful happy ending - hence the title It's A Wonderful Life.

When I watch it each year, I always wonder, like George, how or if my life has made a difference to the people with whom I share it. And end up being reassured by the film's message: that if you do the best you can, and follow the best you know, it will all work out right in the end.

I'm not as unselfish as George Bailey, but I share Brene Brown's aim of living wholeheartedly. In the Introduction to her wonderful book, Rising Strong, she writes:

"I define wholehearted living as engaging in our lives from a place of worthiness. It means cultivating the courage, compassion, and connection to wake up in the morning and think, No matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough. It's going to be at night thinking, Yes, I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn't change the truth that I am brave and worthy of love and belonging."

I believe that if we can do that - strive to live wholeheartedly, then, like George Bailey, we will be able to lead lives where we can make a difference, for the better. Merry Christmas!

*the other one is Love Actually

The Flame of Hope

Recently I came across a poem called Four Candles by that great poet, Anonymous, the last two lines of which read: "With Hope, no matter how bad things look and are, / Peace, Faith, and Love can shine brightly in our lives. Yes.

In her wonderful book, The Gifts of Imperfection, Brené Brown shares her research about how we can practice what she calls wholehearted living. One of her ten guideposts for wholehearted living is "Cultivating a resilient spirit: letting go of numbing and powerlessness." Which is where hope comes in.

If we go back to the legend of Pandora and her box, Hope was the only virtue left to humankind when she had let all the others escape. And my dictionary defines hope as "expectation and desire combined; feeling of trust", which I guess is how most people think of it. Brené Brown, who is an accomplished sociological researcher, thought so too, and was shocked to find that "hope is not an emotion; it's a way of thinking or a cognitive process." In other words, it is a way of being that can be learned!

I'd like to share what she says about how hope happens; it is when: "We have the ability to set realistic goals (I know where I want to go). We are able to figure out how to achieve these goals, including the ability to stay flexible and develop alternative routes (I know how to get there, I'm persistent, and I can tolerate disappointment and try again). and We believe in ourselves (I can do this!)."

She also grounds the ability to be hopeful in a foundation of spirituality, which she defines as "the belief in connection, a power greater than self, and interconnections grounded in love and compassion." I would also argue that it is much easier to find hope, to be hopeful, and resilient, when we have a belief in something greater than ourselves. This might be a higher power, which some of us might name God or Spirit of Life and Love; or it might be a belief in the worth of working towards a lofty goal, such as world peace, an end to poverty, the spread of compassion - whatever.

It has been an eventful year, in our own lives, in the life of Unitarian congregations, and in the wider world. Some of us have faced bereavement and grief, others have faced life-threatening or less scary but still serious health issues, and all of us have watched the wider world seemingly going to hell in a hand-basket. At the beginning of this year, we came together, shocked by the attack on the Charlie Hebdo offices in Paris, at this end of the year, our thoughts are once more in Paris, in Beirut, in Iraq, with the refugees huddling in inadequate camps all over Europe and the Middle East, and in all the other places where violence and deprivation seem to be holding sway. Yet in between most congregations have continued to meet regularly in worship, to support various charities, and to try to make the phrase "beloved community" a reality. That is having hope.

May Peace, Faith, and Love shine brightly in all our lives, fuelled by Hope.

Reaching Out

Tomorrow, I am driving across to Cambridge, to meet seven people I've never met before, and one I've met once.We are all members of an online support network for women who no longer drink. I've been looking forward to meeting everyone for weeks, but now that it's upon me, I am feeling unaccountably nervous. Goodness knows why. Because on one level, I know these online friends much better, and on a deeper level, than many folk I know in the flesh. We support each other through thick and thin, and the network is a solid online community.

The arrangements for meeting up were getting a bit complicated. Which was making me feel a bit panicky. A whole platoon of "What if?" questions were springing up in my head, and I was on the edge of pulling out of the whole thing altogether, and having a quiet day at home.

Then I remembered something Brene Brown wrote about vulnerability, in her wonderful book Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead:

"When it comes to vulnerability, connectivity means sharing our stories with people who have earned the right to hear them - people with whom we've cultivated relationships that can bear the weight of our story."

And I realised that these online friends of mine were such people. So I reached out and shared how panicky I was feeling, and asked to be met at the station. Straight away, two people got back to me, to let me know they would be there, waiting for me. So I will be going, after all.

Small kindnesses make big differences.

Finding the Courage

There are times in everyone's life when we feel scared, not brave enough, and want to run away and hide, from whatever situation we find ourselves in. It is certainly true of me.

This morning, a friend of mine posted a lovely reflection on Facebook, which got me thinking about what courage is, and where it might be found. He wrote:

"The special form of lovely when the result of someone believing in you, when you yourself didn't, helps you to find courage you didn't know you had."

My Concise Oxford Dictionary defines courage as "Bravery, boldness", for me this implies some form of heroism and derring-do. Like facing down a mountain lion or some other daring deed. The sort of thing that James Bond might do, as a matter of routine.

But I believe with my friend that courage can be found in some very unlikely places. In her wonderful book The Gifts of Imperfection, Brené Brown explains that "Courage originally meant 'To speak one's mind by telling all one's heart.' ...Speaking honestly and openly about who we are, about what we're feeling, and about our experiences (good and bad) is the definition of courage. ... Ordinary courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line. In today's world, that is pretty extraordinary."

"Ordinary courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line."  It's about being brave enough to reach out for help; to admit that actually, we don't know; that we aren't ready for this yet; or that we're feeling rubbish. It is also about feeling the fear and doing it anyway, to quote a book title by Susan Jeffers. It can be about taking that first vital step on a new path, about moving out of your comfort zone and into the unknown. This kind of courage is the quiet sort of everyday courage, and if you start looking for it, you'll find it everywhere.

And the lovely thing is, if we can be brave enough to "speak our minds by telling all our hearts", this will often be met with empathy, understanding and support. Even perhaps relief - because sometimes when we share that we're feeling scared or inadequate in some way, it allows other people to admit their own vulnerability too.