Making Life Easier

by Emma Laurence

Teaching preschool music years ago, I learned from the pros that success for a pre-K classroom is all about the transitions. 

Drop off time.  Play time.  Snack time.  Nap time.  When the adults prepared activity stations in advance and gently guided the little ones’ attention, blending from one to the next, there were a lot fewer tears. 

I don’t need to tell you that this has been one challenging year.  Lots of losses and changes—a world in profound transition.  

Have you found yourself slowing down and tending that space between? As my husband recently advised me, “let the river carry you for a while.”

Zoey’s Changing World

One morning, our cat Zoey jumped up on the bed to nestle into my side.  She likes my arm around her body so she’s all snuggled in.  When I’m wearing short sleeves, she’ll nuzzle the inside of my elbow and even try to suckle at my skin.

Zoey was taken from her mom at six weeks—too young for a kitten.  When we got her at a year old, we were warned of her habit and history. 

But it’s cold in Minnesota now, so I’m in long-sleeved pajamas.  Nuzzling her nose into my elbow doesn’t quite satisfy the same way.  What’s a cat to do?

I thought about how hard it must be for her to keep wanting her mom and that particular bond of food, safety and love.  Time has marched on.  

She has human parents now who love her differently.  Food comes in a bowl.  There’s still safety in closeness, but love is scratching under the chin or behind the ears, stroking her fur with a human hand.   Pretty different.

Then, I wondered.  How often does the form of love change in our own lives while we struggle to keep up? 

Love Shifts Form

The most dramatic example comes when someone we love leaves this earthly world.  We may have been used to years of daily contact.  We may miss that soul terribly, that specific way of being close.

For example, a dear friend’s beautiful greyhound suddenly collapsed a couple of months ago.  A sweet new dog came into her life sooner than expected, requiring her to draw on compassion, patience and trust in transitioning to a new family.

The same is true for other endings—relationship break ups, losses of friendships or homes, of jobs or careers, or heartfelt dreams.  Qualities like gentleness and gratitude provide buffers to make the shift easier.

Are We All in Pre-school?

What if a teaching force in the universe smooths our way in everyday life like a good preschool teacher?  If we look, we may be surprised to see that experiences have been prepared just for us—including time for rest, nourishment and creativity.  Trusting and following that rhythm eases our way. 

Even during a global shift, we can allow time and space in our personal universe for transitions.  Consider the daily reminder of the sunrise that pales our sky slowly from darkness to color to brighter light.

Photo by Jonas Vincent on Unsplash

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A New Level of Selflessness

by Emma Laurence

Two dozen cedar waxwings landed on a tree in our neighbor’s backyard.  My husband and I shared binoculars back and forth, admiring their markings and the rare opportunity to witness a museum’s migration.  [Yes, a flock of waxwings is called a museum.]

In researching these birds, we discovered a sweet behavior.  Waxwings share the red berries they eat and have even been cited passing one, beak to beak, down an entire line of birds.  It’s also part of the mating ritual for a male to give a berry to a female, she to give it back to him, and so on, until she finally accepts it and, presumably, him.

The appearance of a generous, community-based species at this moment in time underscored a new level of selflessness to which I’m feeling called lately.  It’s a level of letting go that’s neither easy nor comfortable.  In fact, for me, it’s quite the challenge.

This release of self is at the level of the ego—the keeper of opinions, judgments, and thoughts, with a “my will be done” approach. It often operates out of fear, particularly fear of loss.  And it doesn’t have to be overinflated to the point of arrogance to cause unhappiness, disharmony or agitation. 

I’d use the term egoism to describe my experience.  When I’m preoccupied with myself and my own learning experiences, I adopt an Emma-centric view of the universe. For example, it’s easy for me to take things personally, obsess about having offended someone, judge others and myself too harshly, or see the world through the limited lens of my past. 

I understand that this is common human behavior.  And I’ve learned to be kind to myself while I grow and mature.  But this ego-mechanism can interfere with being a clear channel of service to grace and love.

We all get to choose our thoughts and behaviors as well as our goals.  My mission is to be available to serve all life, moment by moment.  If I insist on seeing through the narrow viewfinder of my own mind, if I criticize myself or others, or if I buy into a fear of survival or failure, I risk losing this core purpose.

So, for me, now is a time of going more silent.  I know some believe that not speaking out or not engaging in socio-political dialogue is a cop out, or even indicates complicity with criminal behavior.  I’d rather give freedom to those who hold their own opinions while I research a deeper way to serve humanity.

Perhaps I’m simply saying that I aspire to be more like the waxwing, silently passing a red berry to my neighbor.

Photo by Gary Bendig on Unsplash

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Shifting to the Core

by Emma Laurence

If you’re like me, you’ve spent a lot of time with your thoughts.  At times, they’ve crowded the inner landscape to such a degree that you’ve exhausted yourself, become confused and frustrated, and had a hard time sleeping.  They can be of a negative nature or an excitable one; the impact on the nervous system seems similar.

The focus on thoughts in our world today—and plenty of words to describe them that get rehashed on media outlets—creates a loop pattern.  Certain ideas or beliefs run and re-run until a groove settles in that can then be difficult to undo.  Add to this that children take on the patterns in their home, society and culture of origin, and it’s pretty hard to tell which voice inside our heads is truly our own, if we bother to ask.

I have a steel-trap sort of mind that won’t let go.  It gets bored easily, wants to “figure out” everything, and insists it’s at the top of my identity’s food chain. 

I’m also blessed and challenged with a sensitive, empathic, easily hurt emotional heart that I’ve learned to protect and tend.

Yet beyond mind and heart lies a territory that we humans must explore if we’re to evolve.  At the core of any living being is a true spiritual intention that may or may not make sense to the mind and emotions. 

The core intention serves all life (within and without) from a higher perspective that embraces everything below. It’s the truth behind what we do. Like unconditional love, this core can resonate as respect, compassion, charity, or even bonds of brotherhood. It can express itself in any creative form.

I like the metaphor of the shinbashira—the central pillar of a pagoda’s construction that’s built to be movable, like the flexible spine of the human body. The shinbashira is part of what makes these beautiful, sacred structures earthquake resistant.

I also love the French word for heart, coeur, which is closer to the English word core.

The shift to living each day from a central pillar often follows a life-changing event wherein we’ve been “shaken to the core.” Paradigms reverse and perspectives expand. We become aware of a bigger picture in which we’re part of a living, breathing whole.

Priorities flip. Smaller annoyances shrink in importance as we recommit to the love in our lives (people, places, actions, arts) that make life worth living.

The transition is the tough part. We may find it difficult to calm the mind and heart enough to feel our shinbashira or hear our core truth.  Our faith or trust may appear intermittent as we work at realigning with a new way of being.

The current pandemic is more than an earthquake whose aftershocks we will feel for an indefinite length of time.  It’s the best opportunity we have for contacting our core. We’ve been given the chance to ground in our essential (coeur) intention, one that may hold a surprising, primal message awaiting our discovery.

Photo by Francesco Ungaro from Pexels

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The Unseen Positive

by Emma Laurence

At my first Minnesota Astronomical Society (MAS) online meeting, I found the request to join without video or sound suitably funny.  Wow, I thought, these guys really do crave darkness! 

Of course, it’s what they discover in the darkness that makes stargazing so engaging.  During the call, I learned where and when to look for the “Golden Handle” on the moon.  The Bay of Rainbows (Sinus Iridum) is a lava-flooded impact basin measuring 162 miles wide and ringed by the Jura Mountains.  When the mountains are illuminated just so, they appear as a bright arc in front of the still darkened bay.

This play of light effect is nicknamed the “Golden Handle,“ and it’s visible once a month, four days before a full moon. Look closely at the photo above and you’ll see a curved feature at the top right, jutting up along the line between light and dark. 

As astrophotographers in the group talked technology and equipment, my mind drifted back to a conversation with a friend over the weekend.  She’d remarked on the common usage of the term “unseen negative.” Then she asked, what about the “unseen positive“?

I began to wonder what hidden forces are at work even now to assist us in our personal missions on earth and to guide us to the best possible future.  We’re in a time of fear, change, and uncertainty.  Is it possible to see what’s right in front of us, working for our benefit?  Or, at the least, trust the unfoldment of an unseen positive?

So much is unseen.  When we face life’s challenges, we can feel like we’re in the dark.  It’s easy to be fearful of an imagined negative outcome.  Pretending to not feel fear is simply a spiritual bypass.  We may want to get around the vulnerability of human emotions, but they will be stored somewhere in the psyche, or the body, if denied.  

So, what about looking more deeply into this metaphorical night sky to gain perspective and awe?  Astronomers know how to do this in a literal sense.  They share the excitement of sightings and photos because their world is a wide-open view to points of light, or heavenly bodies, within the darkness.

If we open the aperture of our heart, though, I’ll bet we can discover the unseen positive. How often have we witnessed surprising support from Life itself simply because we were looking more closely, calmly or widely, with an eye for beauty and grace?

Calm presence embraces fear and beauty, both.  It’s a divine paradox. 

I hope to catch sight of the Bay of Rainbows and the Golden Handle at the end of this month.  The sky, moon, bay and mountains already exist as an unseen, awaiting my astronomy binoculars.  I may feel like I’ve come upon a miracle when I experience it personally. And I may be even further inspired by the vast darkness beyond.

Photo by Peter Lowenstein

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What Brings You Joy?

by Emma Laurence

My husband and I anticipated the joy kittens would bring to our home.  The vet was 90% sure our newly adopted cat was pregnant.  And though she couldn’t feel individual kittens, she predicted we’d have a brood in three weeks.

Then, a turn of events.  Our cat began behaving like she was in heat.  Hmmm, we thought.  What about the other 10%?

After a few days of this behavior, we called the vet to chat.  She agreed that she’d misread the swollen belly as pregnancy rather than hormonal build up to estrus.

Isn’t it a curious moment when, having planned for one outcome, Life takes a 180 degree turn?  I felt sad as I disassembled the dream of playfulness, cuteness and laughter filling our home. 

This wasn’t a severe disappointment, but the process seems to be the same for releasing human emotions.  Grief, felt at various depths, eventually gives way to acceptance.  Life does go on.

A younger version of me would have spent a lot of time analyzing the possible reasons—human or divine—for this abrupt change.  I might have wondered how I, and the vet, made such a mistake.  More likely, I’d have questioned what Life was trying to teach me about the build up and dashing of expectations, or about investing in a specific future.

Present-day me moved through that stage quickly.  Instead, I watched images of a future with kittens dissolve.  I didn’t dwell on blame or questions.  I gave thanks for our cat, Zoey, in our lives and let it be.  I let the sadness be, too.

The next day, a wise friend happened to ask, what are you doing right now in your life to bring you joy?  Great question.  I had to admit I wasn’t being proactive.  I was slumping, waiting for something outside me (like a houseful of kittens?) to bring me joy. 

She then shared a technique she invented to practice wellness.  She makes a list of things that her bring joy and does one an hour.  It might be as simple as listening to a particular song, or making soup, or journaling.

I loved this idea and started right away doing small things to inspire joy.  I drove by the llama farm to catch a glimpse of the newborns, took a walk in the sunlight, and listened to “Gabriel’s Oboe” performed by Henrik Chaim Goldschmidt.                        

Soon, I felt much lighter.

Now, I don’t expect to live in a joyful place all the time.  I don’t even believe that’s the goal.  But I do need a balance in tough times. 

I wonder, what might make your list?

Joy lives inside us.  Though prompted by people, animals, places or things, the qualitative experience we call joy is inward.  It’s our choice when to reach for that ever-present state and how to prompt an opening heart. 

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

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When Life Brings More Than You Expect!

by Emma Laurence

Meet Zoey.  We adopted her a month ago after my husband spotted her picture in an online listing. I was making breakfast one morning when I heard him say Oh…in that two-tone descending pitch that means someone just stole my heart.  I stepped over to peer at his laptop screen as soon as I could leave the stove.

Oh, my… Yep, that’s her, I thought, as we read Zoey’s story.  She looked intelligent, petite and sweet.  She was just under a year old; the owners were moving and had to rehome her asap. 

We’d been scanning photos for months, during which time we’d met two cats that were not a match.  We wondered when our cat (or small dog) would appear.  That afternoon, honoring social distancing with the humans, we picked Zoey up and brought her home. 

Zoey needed a few days to get used to us, but she never hid in fear.  She loved the sliding glass doors to the backyard and the many windows of our townhome.  We played laser light tag with her and provided plenty of space/time to adjust.  After a few weeks, she made a habit of jumping onto my lap every time I sat on the couch.

Then an unexpected development unfolded.  I had occasion to lift Zoey off a forbidden piece of furniture when I noticed she seemed heavier than before.  She’d been eating plenty in the transition from dry to canned food.  Yet she carried this extra weight in her lower belly, and I got the distinct impression she was pregnant. 

I texted the previous owner, is it even possible that… was she perhaps in contact with…?  Answers came back with a sincere apology.  Yes, it was “possible.”  There had been a male cat in the household at one time, but they’d had no idea.  Did we want help finding a new home, or did we want to return her? 

Nope.  We just wanted to know whether to follow through.

With the current pandemic, Dr. Ricci was only seeing urgent cases, but she agreed to an office visit so we could confirm.  While she couldn’t feel individual kittens yet, she was 90% sure we’d have a houseful in three weeks.

Oh, what a perfect spiritual set up.  From the moment we laid eyes on Zoey, we knew she was part of our family.  We just didn’t know she’d bring a whole family with her! And though we didn’t ask for kittens (as my brother-in-law said, say goodbye to 2am), we’re excited.  It’s an ideal time for hilarity and joy that we could never have planned.

Zoey expands our hearts’ capacity and stretches our ability to flow with life’s unexpected surprises.  Life will have Its way.  True and wise abundance brings gifts in all forms that we can trust are just right for us, right now. 

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Lie Low to the Wall

by Emma Laurence

The deep and far-reaching impact of our planet’s pandemic drove itself into my mind and emotions these last two weeks—boring holes into old traumatic tissue. 

Have you ever experienced a kind of loneliness in which you crave compassion?

I simply wanted to know that another human being, at any point in history, experienced a similar suffering.  During this painful process, I sought uplifting, comforting words. 

As often happens, Life provided an unexpected gift.  A poem by John O’Donohue, 20th century Irish poet, philosopher, priest, and Celtic spiritualist, entered my email box via someone I don’t even know.  It read:

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.

These words shook my world with profound relief.  They gave me permission to lie low, arrested my heart-scraping self-talk, allowed me to remember who I am, and invited me to accept my own hesitant light.  They supported my generosity. 

I remembered the feeling of new beginnings, fresh air, hope and promise.

Shortly thereafter, pressures lightened a bit.  I found myself able to enjoy cleaning my home, something I’d previously had no motivation to do.  I rearranged my office, cleared my desk, and finally put up the acupressure poster that had lain curled up in a corner. 

I slowly began to release torturous self-judgments and to re-engage what I believe to be true—that everything is happening just the way it should. 

It’s essential to note that tending tasks was now done very, very slowly.  I moved in slow motion, breathing deeply as I worked, paying attention to my body, surrendering the need to think, letting the emotions rest. 

In essence, I was lying low to the wall and in gentle motion, at the same time. 

I’m finding this way of “working” so pleasurable.  It is low stress and invites ease.  It’s inclusive and accepting.  It feels both effortless and fulfilling.

While I, like many who want to serve in these times, may not know what steps to take to be more available and helpful, there is an ever-so-slight fragrance in the air, as if a sweetness is coming soon.

I welcome the changes we’re creating, even now, to unite us in new ways for the good of all. Many kindnesses will rebuild the fabric of our community in bolder colors. 

I choose to embrace the new harmonic resonance that’s calling us to be the best we can, to do the best we can, and to love the gift of life, truly.

photo by Pixabay

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The Compassionate Camera

by Emma Laurence

When Minnesota went into lockdown, my husband joked that self-quarantine and living in our small town was redundant.  For those of us who work at home, this wasn’t too much of a change.  We have an established routine.  We’re used to less outer stimulation.  We’re more familiar with quiet than most.

But for many, the disconnect from work and social environments can be particularly disconcerting.  Especially those living alone.  After all, isolation is used as a means of punishment in such practices as solitary confinement.  Or, if you truly want to hurt someone, ignore him.

What is it that makes isolation so distressing?  And how can we come to terms with—even gain from—a situationally imposed silence? 

I would offer, keep compassionate company with ourselves.

How does this work?

Silence requires that we face ourselves.  There’s nowhere to hide, no distractions to prevent our attention from going down the self-judgment swirly bowl.  We may have a habit of shaming ourselves for every perceived mistake, inventing ridiculous expectations, believing our lives are unimpactful to the world at large, and tipping the scales towards the ugly.

Keeping compassionate company with ourselves means that we’re willing to embrace all parts, those we label “good” and “bad.”   Acceptance is a key ingredient in unconditional love—a skill we can master given the opportunity. In granting ourselves an abundance of kindness, forgiveness and understanding during tough times, we practice this skill.

In stillness and silence we can also discover our higher nature, which could never be labeled as “good” or a “bad.”  After all, how can we judge a being of pure light?

From even as far back as Jesus’s time, the message love your neighbor as yourself implies that humans need to learn to love—first ourselves, then others.  For years I wondered, who was loving whom?  Am I split in two?

Sort of.  I found that my higher nature, Soul, functions more like a compassionate camera, watching dispassionately the choices my human self makes in life.  This viewpoint is the source from which I can give higher love to myself and others. 

Stillness provides keen training in Soul skills such as honing intuition, exploring and decoding dreams, and experiencing the eternal connection with loved ones at a distance.  From this place, I’m an eagle flying free over a rich mountain landscape, fulfilled in simply being alive. 

The pain that comes in waves, threatening to pull my human mind and emotions under, can be calmed by the sound of my own voice, like a lullaby.  In essence, I “sing” to the part of me that needs healing or company.

During world crises, I feel the weight of struggling masses and an almost desperate desire to serve.  Silence has shown me that, when I can’t be on the front lines physically, I can hold others in the most loving space, in a heart that’s as empty as it is full.

Photo by Ani Kolleshi on Unsplash

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Wake Up Your Wisdom

by Emma Laurence

During challenging times, we often learn most about ourselves and our world.  If we anchor that learning, the wisdom gained lasts forever.

I started a journal last year called “perceptions on the edge of consciousness.”  I did so because I noticed some of the most important learning in my life was just barely registering in my conscious awareness.  If I could catch these subtle messages, these wisps of wisdom, and anchor them, I’d be integrating more of Life’s great teachings.

Concurrent with awakening and reeling in this inner wisdom came another realization. The most uplifting moments in my outer daily life could also pass by, barely noticed. 

As an example, my husband and I took a walk in our neighborhood this week.  We met a mom with her two young children on bikes with training wheels. We were drawn to them by their beautiful, rust-colored Cavapoo.  The dog was a magnet.  The family agreed that “Leo” was well loved.  Mom was shining with happiness, clearly relishing her parental role.

That evening, as I acknowledged the day’s gift moments, this meeting in the park landed at the top of the list.  Petting the beautiful dog and conversing with a loving family fed my heart.

My mind could easily have forgotten the brief encounter, or judged it as insignificant in the overall scheme of things.  Especially so if I had a list of tasks to accomplish that appeared to be the most important focus of the day.  It would be so easy to pass by. 

I track gift moments because they feed my spirit.  They show me how Life is coaching, guiding and supporting me.  They teach me that my path crosses with others not in a random and chaotic manner, but in a pattern that supports my service.  Maybe this occurs because I put service and love as my first priority (and I’ve learned to include caring for myself as service).  Or maybe, it’s happening to us all, if we awaken to the possibility.

We’ve all unearthed profound life lessons from difficult times. Wisdom is born of experience.  If we anchor that wisdom by consciously recognizing the moments that would otherwise be tossed aside, by bringing what’s just at the brink of our awareness into the human world, could we enter a state in which goodness becomes perpetually visible?  I’m beginning to see this possibility.

This is not a Pollyanna approach or rose-colored glasses denial.  This is waking up to inner wisdom and outer gifts amidst the full array of life experiences.  It’s a way to keep the heart open and the spirit in flight—two keys to serving all Life with greater ease.

[I’m offering a free Wake Up Your Wisdom group coaching class on Saturday, March 28th for those who’d like to share what they’re learning from this challenging time. Contact me at [email protected] for an invitation.]

Photo by Tim Foster on Unsplash

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How Social Distancing Can Bring Us Closer

by Emma Laurence

This week, as I ventured out for essential errands, I noticed a phenomenon caused by social distancing.  People may be staying six feet away, but they’re looking me in the eyes. 

Have you noticed this, too?

I often hear within this mutual recognition of a smile or nod, I’m OK.  You OK? Good.  We’re both good. Sometimes the look says, This is wild, right?

The recognition of one another as alive and well is a welcome shift.  There’s a feeling that we’re all in this together, and we’ll get through this, even though it may get more challenging before it gets easier.

My husband and I chatted with a woman from North Dakota as she helped us custom order a gluten-free pizza at the deli.  She reminisced of the days when kids were simply thrown out the back door to go play in the dirt.  Now when her grandkids visit, they say to her, We know, Nana.  Where’s the basket… where they leave all electronic devices at the door.  They run out back to play beanbag toss, or do art projects and baking indoors.  By the time the visit is over, they don’t want to go home. 

Let the kids eat some dirt and worms, she added.  Then they’ll be healthy.

We haven’t had a crisis like this in nearly twenty years—the kind that touches the whole world and changes daily life.  Long lasting changes will come from this, too.  Perhaps more of our freedoms will be taken away in name of safety, security and health.  Maybe more of us will get involved with democracy rather than assuming the government will take care of us.  Or we may awaken to the reality that we’re all connected and begin to take more responsibility for ourselves, more stewardship of other life forms on the planet.  We’ll see.

But we do have an unprecedented opportunity to trade in entitlement for gratitude.  What a shift that would be in our country if gratitude took hold. 

A pandemic can help us be grateful for the time we do have in the company of family and friends, grateful for the hugs in greeting that we used to take for granted, grateful for any occasion to gather in one place at one time.  Meanwhile, there’s an opportunity to see one another in the virtual landscape.  It’s not the same, vibrationally speaking—anyone who has Skyped with a spouse overseas or a grandchild across the country knows that—but it is being together in time. 

We will each experience this period of history in our own way.  We have choice in how we respond.  We can be an uplifting presence no matter the circumstances, draw our loved ones closer in our hearts, and give more charity to all.

(Illustration: Ari Saperstein for LAist)

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