Compass Clues: Finding Home between Dizzy and Distraction

Posted on April 28, 2013 by Lauren Van Ham

To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.

– Emily Dickinson

The fact that we live at the bottom of a deep gravity well, on the surface of a gas covered planet going around a nuclear fireball 90 million miles away and think this to be normal is obviously some indication of how skewed our perspective tends to be.

– Douglas Adams, The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time

Doing less bad is not the same as doing more good…You have one life and, like a tree, you can create abundance, a profusion.

– William McDonough

Parvati and Friend, Diablo Summit

Two Saturdays ago, a friend and I were on a bike adventure, making our way from Berkeley to the summit of Mt. Diablo and back. The day was perfect: blue sky, warm sun, and a cool breeze. The route journeys through several eco-systems, including Suburbia, where we pulled over to check directions and have a snack. The bench was positioned beneath a shopping center’s speaker. Music, similar to what might be playing in a spa, wafted its tranquil tunes into the streets, and behind us the two-story-window display beckoned from a store that makes me cuckoo: The Container Store. I sheepishly apologized to my friend, then preceded to soap-box anyway about how insane our species has become – continuing to buy things, thus “necessitating” entire stores that specialize in helping us contain ourselves. Never mind the thrift stores and consignment shops accepting our “rejects” as quickly as we’re off to spend the $25 promotion we received last week on Amazon.com.

These realities (as you patient readers know), both pain and humor me. More recently, observations like these have been my mirror. In its reflection I see how consumed I am – how distracted I can be, how dizzy I feel by any number of projects, tasks on a To Do list, or some other alluring racket. So often the result is…paralysis. Really. In the face of too many choices, a couple of things happen. Initially, I consider the possibilities, watching as they become rabbit holes, mysteriously (?) related to the original query at-hand.

And then, after kicking each ball a little further down the field, or succumbing to overwhelm, I short-circuit, glaze over and resolve that the right decision will be obvious when a) the timing is better, or b) I’ve taken a nap. This wouldn’t be so frustrating except that I have lived my adult life feeling fairly competent, highly capable, quite adept at multi-tasking. And so, the paralysis is disconcerting. Did something change? (i.e., time is speeding up, Lauren is getting older) What needs to happen? Can I do something differently?

Is it possible that, similar to the World of Stuff, the World of Ideas and Go-Go-Go has become so dense, so replete, that our souls need their own Container Store of sorts? I laugh…and then I scream. Softly.

I pray harder in these moments. I know that another space exists, a parallel universe that promises perspective. That parallel universe that is, in truth, the ONLY universe, our cosmic home. And in an otherwise lost moment, even the smallest taste of it becomes a compass filled with clues.

Quiet rediscovered, dizziness subsiding, I hold the cool compass with my entire being. In my compass, the clue often directs me toward regenerativity. William McDonough (above) is right: doing less bad is not the same as doing more Good. I want my life to be filled with not merely staying out of the way, being sure I’ve placed my recycling in the right bin, but with contributions for the Better, capital “B!” I want my days, my efforts, my intentions to provide nourishment, restoration and the potential for growth. And don’t we all?

If in even the smallest actions (and no actions) of our lives, we can feel our participation in the fertility, hydration, and healing that creates the Whole, perhaps the plethora of choices would be fewer, or at least offer more good than less bad? Compass in charge, I asked for a tangible expression, something to shake me from my paralyzed stupor.

It didn’t take long. I fell in love over night. Last Sunday, my neighbor and I collected our new colony of bees and helped them move in to their new home. They’re amazing. Not distracted, totally dizzying (but in that good way). The thought of doing “less harm” isn’t even part of their eco-system. They are only about doing more good: good for the flowers, good for the Queen, good for the hive, good for Winnie-the-Pooh, and good for any of us who value the healing properties of, “hunny.”

Bees 2013

What does your compass suggest? In which direction are you traveling? More Good? First star, right straight till morning!!!

Deflecting the Arrow, Shooting our Feet

Posted on February 13, 2013 by Lauren Van Ham

If it doesn’t help me love you, it can’t possibly be true.

– Kurt Johnson

I have no patience for those who use our desperate situation as an excuse for inaction… The use of this excuse to justify inaction reveals nothing more nor less than an incapacity to love.

– Derrick Jensen

Let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love.

– Che Guevara

I’ve just returned from a trip for work — a trip that took me through several airports in my journey across the country and back. What I love most about journeys like this is how immediately I’m called to attend to the “largeness” of our existence — walking through an airport, taking a cab through new-to-me city streets, observing the pacing and perceived busyness of people everywhere, engaging with life. These things fill me with curiosity and remind me that there is so much I do not know (and long to know). Furthermore, there is so much I take for granted in my highly-routinized life happening in the relatively (righteously?) small world of Berkeley.

There is something else that happens, too. Suspended between here and there (no longer in Berkeley and not yet at my final destination) I find myself quite suddenly on the see-saw I’ll call, Intimacy-or-Anonymity. You know the one? The Intimacy-or-Anonymity see-saw, for me, can be an ecstatic experience. Really! At it’s height, the playground ride tips me into gleeful appreciation (love, freely offered) for every being whirling by in the transitory nature of neither here-nor-there. For a period of time we are, all of us, pilgrims held captive in suspended time. All at once, departing and arriving, our wholly-unique stories propel us from one location to another. We are the molecules moving and forming all of existence.

And then, the see-saw swings back. It sets me down in my plane seat, forcing me to choose whether to make eye-contact with the one sitting next to me…or not. Maybe this person will be genuinely interested in an experience I have to share, or maybe we’ll be from the same town, or maybe (…c’mon, say it!) we’ll fall madly in love, or maybe we’ll discover in less than two sentences that we have nothing in common and no matter how many ways I convey with words, body language or otherwise, I will fail completely in my efforts to end all contact. Never-you-fear, introverts! In the talk or no-talk on airplanes debate, I have zero skin in the game.

40,000 feet above Alaska, (2007)

The Intimacy-or-Anonymity see-saw can be illustrated nicely way up at 30,000 feet. But truthfully, my skin is in a tougher game; the one down here in the weeds, with the people we know, the people we love, and the people we know we could know better.

This week, as St.Valentine visits mailboxes, candle-lit dining tables, chocolate shops and flower stands, I’m thinking too

of the Climate Rally that will happen in Washington, DC on Sunday. I’m thinking of a friend from Montana, who last week told me about the people in her town who are relocating to South Dakota because the Keystone XL Pipeline is creating the jobs they’ve needed for the past 3 years. I’m thinking of the 5,000 new cars arriving on the streets of China….every day. 5000, every day. AND…I’m thinking about the jet-fueled flights I took last week, where I was offered countless

Utah Airport, Recycling (2007)

cups of beverages in single-use plastic cups, to say nothing of the sheets and towels and newspapers and coffee-makers made available to me and the hundreds of others occupying the hundreds upon hundreds of hotel rooms just like mine. AND — I know this is hard, but please keep reading — I’m recalling how many of us stared blankly at the countless television screens lining the airport terminals, as stories from far and wide invited us to consider our position on guns, women, trees, democracy…and how after a few minutes, most eyes returned to a hand-held device, clutching perhaps to some sense of intimacy in this vast ocean of anonymity.

And here’s the slippery part…with this subtle shift of our eyes, do we not also choose anonymity, brushing those gun-women-tree-democracy matters off to some other people — the ones more intimately involved? (deep breath….)

Jose Fuster’s Mosaic Masterpiece (Havana, 2008)

It’s Valentine’s Day. I have read and re-read the quotes above; like Zen koans they’ve been circling through my mind: “What IS my capacity to love?” “Is what I’m doing/thinking/feeling right now helping me love you? And if not, can I make a different choice?” “What is a true and loving choice?”

The Intimacy-or-Anonymity dance is a fun game to observe up in the clouds. And on the ground, it requires our engagement. In our homes, schools and offices, spiritual communities and neighborhood coffee shops, we can choose to grow our love….or not. Seduced by an apparent bargain, distracted by a momentary ego-gain, gripped by a project deadline, allured by the reprieve of not-in-my-backyard, it is sooooooo easy to get caught up in the short-sightedness of no intimacy. Fearing the impact of eye-contact and real encounters, we deflect Cupid’s arrow….only to shoot ourselves in the foot.

Love made Easy (Lane & Bryn, 2008)

Start where you are. Begin with the ones you love the most. Move toward those you want to love more.

Acts of Labor: A New Year Dawns!

Posted on January 5, 2013 by Lauren Van Ham

The more you sense the rareness and value of your own life, the more you realize that how you use it, how you manifest it, is all your responsibility. We face such a big task, so naturally we sit down for a while.

– Kobun Chino Otogawa Roshi

The burden which is well borne becomes light.

-Ovid

It is Twelfth Night, the Twelfth Day of Christmas; tomorrow Epiphany begins. Epiphany is a season in the Christian calendar that’s about proclaiming Good News (“Go Tell It on the Mountain”). And there is good news to tell: the Holy Child (cosmically and symbolically) arrived once more, the days are lengthening with the sun’s return, and we have moved beyond 2012, into the time beyond the Mayan Calendar.

The Sun, Guatemala City - 2011

A new year dawns! And yet….

In more than a few spiritual direction sessions this past week, I sat with clients who were expressing fatigue and fear toward all that needs to happen, seemingly all at once. Can you relate to this? 2013 feels positively pregnant with importance – personal resolutions, community requests, brittle economies, work demands, business unfinished and choices to make, all of it is so important and it can feel so stress-fully pressing.

When? Where? (Lauren explores Tikal, Guatemala 2011)

The metaphor that keeps appearing for me is a birthing room. And while I have never been the one physically birthing that fragile little one, who seeks freedom and liberation, I have certainly attended women in labor. And all of us have been midwives for our own ideas and projects that so desperately wanted us to birth them into being.

Baby Sylas, 2007

And, OH! Oh, what a sacred and focused effort birthing is!

This is the thrill, the blessing and the challenge of bearing our True Nature in the world. So often, that which we most love and want to bring forth is accompanied by the fatigue and fear of uncertainty. Think of it right now: that part of yourself that you wrestle with – perhaps you are ready to bear it for the very first time, or maybe, you’ve done it countless times before but, ever-reliably, it successfully still sets you SMACK on “your edge.” And so, thrashing and obedient, enticed and terrified, we allow the contractions to happen.

Somewhere, in the excitement, in the urgency, in the discomfort of it all, the one who is laboring realizes that, in order to withstand what’s being asked of her and her body, she must find a pause, a still place to breathe…even as it is happening all around her.

She Who Waits (altar give-away, 2006)

And in my conversations this week, my clients and I spoke of this. How will we remember the simple, radical act of inserting ourselves into the perceived quickening of this time? Making real our True Nature, giving birth to ideas, to healing, to projects, is important. And to do it well, with the care, wisdom and support of others that we so rightly deserve, invites us to do what midwives have instructed through the ages: Exhale. Soften. Notice.

And then, right there, in the messy-middle of it all, the burden becomes light. Joyful, reverent blessings to you in these first days…Happy 2013!

2012 and the Shortest Day of the Year

Posted on December 21, 2012 by Lauren Van Ham

Nature doesn’t hurry, yet everything is accomplished

– Lao Tzu

So the shortest day came and the year died and everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world, came people singing, dancing to drive the dark away!

– Susan Cooper

The fullness of Joy is to behold God in everything

–Julian of Norwich

Today is December 21, the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. Ages ago, noticing the days being incrementally drained of light, the first humans were filled with foreboding. Sensing a Great Ending, they were moved to enact nightly ritual, praying, singing, dancing for the Sun’s return.

A New Day Dawns, Macchu Picchu, 2006

This year’s Solstice,December 21, 2012 carries its own important story. After 26,000 years, there is a shift happening in the heavens, a new alignment within our solar system. Despite different tools of interpretation and speaking different languages, humans across cultures have pointed to this day, naming it: the Great Awakening, the Ascension, the Mayan End Times, the Hopi Fifth World, Christogenesis, Timewave Zero, the Age of Aquarius, and others.

Hmmmm….so what does it all mean?

I’m quite sure that I don’t know. I do know that I love this time of year. The holy season of Solstice calls us to 2 practices I know would serve us well, as we shift into this new era: slowing down and joining together.

Slowing down…

Here we are, at the end of December, the time when many of us take time-off. We spend time with loved ones, we exchange cards & photos, reconnecting with friends long time, not seen. We light candles, sing and play music; in short, we call the Sun back…or celebrate the Son’s arrival.

Many of us “take stock” and review the years’ events. I love to consider the happenings of my past 12 months, to read them like some master blueprint and distill a theme or core teaching from the year. If you read this blog, you’re familiar with the list of activities decorating my calendar, informing my life: there was the bike blessing, my 40th birthday, becoming a beekeeper, training for the Death Ride, championing Fair Trade awareness in Berkeley, backpacking in Glacier National Park, officiating at weddings, baby blessings and rituals of every sort, and so on.

Happily enough, the slowing down initiated by darkness and the cold, reminds us that it isn’t about the events themselves (radical-craziness, I know). Furthermore, the words of Lao Tzu (above), suggest that what needs to happen will not happen more effectively by hurrying. Hurrying has become a seducer of sorts, a disguise for “getting things done.” The Solstice offers no rewards for this behavior. Instead, it invites us to light a candle, to look more closely for what we seek, to rest, evaluate and begin again.

Joining together….

This is the really important part. The opposite of hurrying isn’t passive, apathetic or dispassionate. On the contrary, when the darkness threatens to overtake us, we must devote ourselves – with even more insistence – for that which will bring back the light. And in the darkness, our efforts are made simpler and are augmented by the solidarity, support and insight offered by others. It’s more powerful (and so much friendlier) when we join together – shoveling the walk, preparing a meal, singing in harmony, exploring the details of a new dream or project. In this way, Julian of Norwich (above) helps us to see that each moment (tough, terrifying, or terrific) of our preciously short lives are Joy and God, combined.

Joining Together, ChI Ordination, Spring 2011

Riding home this morning, after a pre-dawn Spin class, the pink sky in the East dazzled with the Sun’s promise of light. Rounding the corner and facing the rainy grey in the North, I was met by…a Rainbow!!! December 21, 2012 and I can’t make this up!! Descending from the heavy clouds was a sacred covenant between the Earth and the Heavens. I slowed down, rode home the long way. No sense hurrying. And now, through the wonders and limitations of cyber-space, I’m joining with you, and I’m inviting you to join with me, as the Great Shift happens.

The future is not some place we are going, but one we are creating. The paths are not to be found, but made. And the activity of making them changes both the maker and their destination.

-JohnSchaar

(And, to enhance your experience, please enjoy the theme music – links below).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klObyJY1W_I

http://music.paulwinter.com/track/minuit-auld-lang-syne-3

Lessons with Pika (or The Sex Appeal of Raw Effort)

Posted on November 6, 2012 by Lauren Van Ham

The world is too dangerous for anything but truth, and too small for anything but love.

-William Sloane Coffin

Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius — and a lot of courage — to move in the opposite direction.

– Albert Einstein

As Bob Taylor, the legendary founder of Taylor Guitars once shared with me, the fastest way to build beautiful guitars is to build more really bad ones.

-Jonathan Fields

Back in the late 70s when my family would road trip each summer to Rocky Mountain National Park, there was a cassette tape that would come along. It was an audio tour of Trailridge Road, the paved road that took park visitors up and over the Continental Divide, narrating points of interest along the route. My brother, Lane and I had parts of the tape committed to memory, including bits of orchestration and jingles that accompanied the script. A favorite was the tune that played during the pika description. Do you know the pika? Here’s one:

Photo Credit: Brian Crawford Photography.

Small and “so cute,” yes; but don’t be fooled! Pikas are tough, determined members of the lagomorph (rabbit) family. Pika FUN Facts:

Pikas are social animals living year-round in the alpine tundra (8,000-13,500 ft), a place where snowdrifts have historically buried their colonies 8 months of the year. Their furry coats cover even on the pads of their feet, which is part of the reason they’re an Indicator Species* — pikas’ bodies are beautifully insulated and they cannot tolerate the heat attributed to climate change now reaching ever-higher altitudes. They survive winters not by hibernating but by putting up hay. By the end of summer, an industrious pika will have accumulated nearly 30 pounds of grass or other plants – hay piles may contain up to a bushel of vegetation! The pika maintains haypiles within its territory, moving them away from rain and stacking them methodically in their homes beneath boulders. Mother pikas raise their young independently in these grass-lined burrows. Perhaps you can then imagine how they choose a good mate? He Who Collects Most Hay = Good Father Figure.

WHY AM I WAXING ON ABOUT THIS???

Because I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the value – the sexiness, really – of Raw Effort. Just a few weeks after I visited some VERY inspiring pika in Glacier National Park, headline news broke about Lance Armstrong’s teammates’ “doping.” And just a few weeks after that, our nation sat through the first in a series of Presidential debacles…I mean, debates.

Troubling? Disappointing? What words would you use and why?

I’m not surprised Lance and his teammates used performance-enhancing drugs. I’m disappointed. When the individuals seeking election to represent me, to protect me, to speak on my behalf, fail to exercise the most basic tenets of clear communication and – between interrupting and being unattractively defensive or unnecessarily accusatory – also speak untruths, I’m more than troubled. I lose any wavering trust that remained.

Like most of us, I want my heroes and heroines to win their wins honestly, with Raw Effort. Plain and simple.

But….I don’t want to end this post here, with whines of disappointment or my loss of trust. Instead, I want to pose a question…and I really hope you’ll comment. Here it is:

How do we start again? Like a meditator realizing s/he has become distracted and therefore returns to the inhale and exhale, how do we – as a culture – return to the starting point that affirms clean, honest effort? Is it even possible? Mini-example? I love coffee. Knowing what I feel I can do with some caffeine in my system, I can hardly imagine a morning without it. Can we settle ourselves enough to, as the Einstein quote above suggests, “move in the opposite direction” and return to appreciate the speed, agility, and excellence of an athlete who performs with practice, nutrition and prayer as his or her only “enhancements”? [see Jonathan Field’s quote above] And regarding our political leaders? Let me be clear, I’m a huge fan of strategy, innovation, creativity…even coercion, on occasion. And rightly, I think the pika employs these to the best of its rabbit’s brain ability.

But, there’s nothing less sexy to me than lies. And when it’s time to choose her mate, the proof for that she-pika is in his haypile, “Are you showing me your 30 pounds or not?”

* Indicator Species – noun. A species whose presence, absence, or relative well-being in a given environment is indicative of the health of its ecosystem as a whole. The American Dictionary, 2009.

And for you curious ones…More on the pika:

1. http://wildlife.state.nm.us/education/wildlife_notes/documents/pika.pdf

2.Rockwell,David. Glacier: A Natural History Guide, 2nd ed. Falcon Guide. 2007.

Why are We Here? What are We Doing?

Posted on October 1, 2012 by Lauren Van Ham

[This post is the homily I had the great privilege of delivering for the three individuals called and ordained to Interfaith Ministry on September 22, 2012, by the Interfaith Congregation for Creative and Healing Ministries. Thank you and Congratulations, Reverends Bob, Elaine, and Hanna! ALSO: for another version of this post, please visit my friends at Lumunos, a very special Christian organization, focusing on Call and Relational ministry. I’m delighted to share that, for the next few months, I’ll be joining the Lumunos blog as a guest!]

A few weeks ago I sat with Bob, Elaine and Hanna to talk with them about this day. I asked them what they were hoping to have conveyed in this segment of the service, and one of them said, “In a nutshell, Lauren, we want you to explain ‘why we are here and what we are doing.’”

GRAND questions! Why are we here? What are we doing?

First, Why are we here? I have three ideas:

For starters, as family and friends who love you, we’re here to honor and celebrate your sense of clarity. Any person who comes to know his/her Right Work in this world deserves, at a minimum, recognition and more appropriately still, a ritual to proclaim it and to bless your way forward.
As a spiritual community, we’re here to honor the practice of Interfaith. I’m using the word, “practice,” very intentionally, because the word, Interfaith and how it is defined carries multiple truths for many people. As a community, we’re here both to engage with and to celebrate the dynamic tension and stimulus invited through our Interfaith practice.
Also, as individuals within the greater human family, I will boldly suggest we’re here because within each of us, there is a hunger or desire for things to be other than they are; for the Big Picture to look and feel different.

A day ago, I fell into a conversation with a handful of women I barely know. We were reflecting on a local news headline that had us all distressed. Sighing softly and – I thought – inaudibly, I uttered, “We need to do something different.” The woman across from me, put her hands to her chest, “Oh my gosh; that’s it! We need to do something different.” And this segues into the next question…what are we doing?

In Sanskrit, there is a phrase, “Neti; Neti.” Translated, it means, “Not this; neither that.” When something isn’t this…and it isn’t that, what remains? This question actively informs our studies at The Chaplaincy Institute, and our spiritual practices as an Interfaith Congregation. As a first step, we endeavor to better understand the “this” and the “that,” in their unique wholeness. For example, we study the core teachings of Christianity, and the core teachings of Sikhism. We strive to appreciate the light and the shadow imbedded in all the Wisdom Traditions. And then, as Interfaith Ministers or Chaplains, we venture on, a little further. Valuing the completeness of two ideas, what happens when we actively lean into the space that’s in-between?

We all have experience with this concept; most commonly, it appears when we try to resolve a conflict, but it also shows up when humans are trying to do something different. The work of interfaith ministry is not only about this, nor only about that, but about tending the possibility, as it arises.

I won’t lie: this work is DICEY. Doing something “different,” means living unrehearsed. It means responding to uncertainty; it means speaking truth when the stakes are high; it means searching for justice and embodying peace, it means sitting with others and allowing our powerlessness — our inability to fix painful situations — to be the offering of suffice. Is this work reserved for clergy? Heck, no! In these times, it’s all hands on-deck. On behalf of all species, the human family world-around; our resources, businesses, cultures and support systems all in flux and varying states of innovation and break-down, we are ALL being invited to engage in this practice. AND, we need support.

And, this is why we’re here and what we’re doing. Today, Bob, Elaine and Hanna are heeding a deep sense of Call. Responding to their faithful belief, their trust in the Divine, they are offering themselves as resources of support. In co-creative practice with the Divine, these three are signing-on to companion and witness the rest of us in the holy, unpredictable patterns of life and death, joy and sorrow, coming and going, growing and grieving.

And on this day, the Interfaith Congregation is both celebrating your Call and recognizing your accomplishments. Your studies have strengthened you to do this work as authentically as each of you – Bob, Hanna and Elaine – can vulnerably-bravely-resiliently-wisely-and-compassionately muster.

March 2011 Ordination, Laying-On of Hands. Photo: V. Weiland

Each of us, responding to our hunger for greater connectivity, more intimacy, deeper understanding has arrived here today to bless your way forward. Thank you for your courage; thank you for saying “Yes!;” thank you for inspiring the rest of us to ask if there’s, perhaps, something out there that might just be refreshingly, soothingly, soul-shiftingly different.

To close, I bless you with the words of Rumi and his poem, Always You:

First when I was apart from You, this world did not exist, nor any other.

Second, whatever I was looking for was always You.

Third, why did I ever learn to count to three?

Nature’s Offerings: Praying in Glacier National Park

Posted on September 5, 2012 by Lauren Van Ham

Drawing on my fine command of the language, I said nothing.

-Robert Benchley

Backpacking GNP, Aug. 2012

Backpacking GNP, Aug. 2012

Backpacking GNP, Aug. 2012

Backpacking GNP, Aug. 2012

Backpacking GNP, Aug. 2012

Backpacking GNP, Aug. 2012

Backpacking GNP, Aug. 2012

Backpacking GNP, Aug. 2012

Backpacking GNP, Aug. 2012

Keep close to Nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.

-JohnMuir

Saying, “Yes” Can Hurt a Little (and that’s ok).

Posted on August 28, 2012 by Lauren Van Ham

I don’t know Who — or what — put the question, I don’t know when it was put. I don’t even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone — or Something — and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal.

-Dag Hammarskjöld

Paradoxically, we achieve true wholeness only by embracing our fragility and sometimes, our brokenness. Wholeness is a natural radiance of Love, and Love demands that we allow the destruction of our old self for the sake of the new.

– Jalaja Bonheimm, Aphrodite‘s Daughters

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

– The Talmud

Back in 2007, when “Going Green” was going, I worked for a sustainability firm whose task was to educate and support the masses employed by multi-national corporations, to make changes that would bring personal sustainability into their lives. Beginning with a daylong workshop, I would meet with phenomenal individuals, you know the ones: gifted and smart, parents or just-out-of-college, PhDs or GEDS, believers and atheists, conservatives and liberals. Yep, those people! You and me. And I had eye-opening privilege of meeting with them across the country, however the majority of my time was spent in Texas. And inTexas, things were extra interesting.

Early on, a client asked us to remove one of the “eco-facts,” we used in our training to help illustrate the demands our current lifestyle choices put on natural resources, in this case, water. The eco-fact was about the number of gallons of water used to make a hamburger. Wanna guess?

Six hundred. 600 gallons. But wait! Before you totally freak-out, before your righteous button gets tripped and you’re saying, “Duh! That’s why I’m a vegetarian,” or you run to the Ranchers’ defense with, “What sort of math were you using? What about grass-fed beef? Or what about switching to buffalo?” I’d like to jump-in and share that I’m not here to defend the eco-fact one way or the other….at least not completely. Respectfully acknowledging the complexities of making a living in Texas, and admitting to the enormity of defining eco-calculations, the eco-fact was removed. And, in my thinking, a big uncomfortable, important opportunity was missed.

My current work no longer has me on the sustainability frontlines, and while I’m the first to admit to the creative work-arounds I employ to justify a non-sustainable indulgence or two, I will also say that the sustainability efforts exercised by most North Americans right now do not bode well for our future. We continue to make really checked-out choices. And why is that? It’s not for lack of information. Or even a lack of support; heck, here are resources and rebates, support groups and incentives of every sort encouraging us to make changes for – you name it – a physically healthier, financially solvent, addiction-freed, more balanced way of living.

Fancy Me Balanced!

But here’s the thing – and we all know this – choosing to make a change, really saying, “Yes,” can hurt. It brings up all kinds of fear, guilt, shame, and grief – “I’m envisioning something better, but how do I let go of this thing that’s become sooooo familiar?”

Last week, mindlessly thumbing through a magazine, I stumbled on an info-graphic of…yes! The amount of water in a hamburger, and worse, it also showed the amount of water used to make coffee, wine, cheese and chocolate! Argh! I was reading this magazine trying to take a break! I was digging for some inspiration and now I was hit with this really uncomfortable reminder that perhaps my food choices could benefit from a mindful review. It didn’t feel good.

But wait….that’s ok, isn’t it?

The miracle of this life is that everyday – Every. Single. Day. – we encounter choices. It’s easy to speed by them, right? It’s the, “I’m-busy-or-that’s-too-scary-so-I’ll-do-it-later” stuper. I don’t know about you, but I can get really seduced by my stuper. And then, something happens. It’s a moment when we’re feeling a little more open, or maybe we’re just sick to death of ourselves and this is where the, “Yes,” lives.

You see, I believe, every one of us actually has a desire to live an alive life, one that contributes to something Larger than Me. Saying, “Yes,” taps the courage, the curiosity, the determination to suspend our tendency toward the familiar or conformity or convenience, and something else happens! So, the next time you’re assaulted (or assaulting yourself) with some guilt-ridden, shame-provoking, or inconvenient reality, ask yourself how and where you might say, “Yes.” It’s okay if it hurts a little. See what happens.

No pressure, but if you’re curious, the info-graphic is right here:

http://www.nxtbook.com/nxtbooks/heifer/worldark_201208/#/8

Death in the Mountains: Breathless and Quivering

Posted on July 12, 2012 by Lauren Van Ham

We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver,filling every pore and cell of us….

– John Muir

The first question which you will ask and which I must try to answer is this, “What is the use of climbing Mount Everest?” and my answer must at once be, “It is no use.” There is not the slightest prospect of any gain whatsoever. So, if you cannot understand that…that the struggle is the struggle of life itself upward and forever upward, then you won’t see why we go. What we get from this adventure is just sheer joy. And joy is, after all, the end of life.

-Sir George Leigh Mallory, 1922

Technique and ability alone do not get you to the top — it is the willpower that is the most important. This willpower you cannot buy with money or be given by others — it rises from your heart.

– Junko Tabei after becoming the first woman to climb Everest in 1975

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; From where shall my help come?

Psalm 121:1, New American Standard Bible

It took me months to figure out, but finally I got it two Sundays ago when some friends and I were training hard on Mt. Diablo. We were on our second ascent of the mountain that day, when yet another cyclist wearing a Death Ride jersey, whizzed by.

“Are you gonna get the jersey, Lauren?” my friend asked.

Breathless, I moaned, “They’re not even attractive!” We both laughed at the obnoxious skull-and-cross-bones graphic, the loud purple and green colors. And that’s when it clicked…

“This entire ride,” I declared, “the route, the advertisements, the hype, the jersey, is testosterone at its most adolescent!” My friend laughed again, which made sense since he’s a he. I, however, was mesmerized by what had just come out of my mouth. Images of teen males laughing at gapping wounds freshly acquired from a skateboard crash, or other stunt-related wipe-out, flashed through my mind. Why, in the name of all things Holy, had I fallen for this ride?

The Death Ride (yes, that’s its real name) is an annual ride which happens on the second Saturday of July. It’s open to the first 2000 registrants who are insane enough to sit at their computer on a random morning in December and submit their contact information and credit card digits before the event is full, typically within 2 hours.

The 129-mile ride happens south of Lake Tahoe and consists of bicycling up 5 mountain passes in one day, the cumulative elevation being 15,000 feet.

14,000 feet in the Andes, 2006

After registering in previous years, and then chickening out, I found new resolve last December; and since April, I’ve been training methodically. Did I just put “I” and, “methodically” in the same sentence? The training was really fun…until it wasn’t, which was about 6 weeks ago. I was riding a tough route and struggling significantly with the climbs, realizing that the Death Ride would be asking even more of me. But I had nothing more to give. How could I possibly do it? What had I been thinking?

I spent the next week fearful and depressed. I began toying with idea of giving myself permission to NOT do the ride. But that felt too extreme. Maybe I needed to focus on finishing 3 mountain passes instead of 5? And then,Marjorie, my dear friend and riding partner, sent a blog post to my inbox entitled, “Fear and Action.” I gave it a click….

“Anything worth doing, any creative endeavor, any new experience will come with a healthy dose of uncertainty. …Nervous energy is often a signpost that what you’re about to do really matters.” – Jonathan Fields

Thanks, Jonathan. He’d reminded me of something that I’ve mentioned before about me and the bike, right? That, for me – and I know I’m not alone here – cycling is a sacred, co-creative and dynamic act; it’s where I meet God in the exponential extremes of mental focus, physical effort, nature’s ecstasy, spiritual surrender …and meteorological surprise.

“Yes, dammit!” I admitted it.

“Of Course!” I heard myself say. “If I finish this bloody ride, I’m going to get the bloody jersey.”

But I can’t ride this ride the way it’s been advertised. At the age of 40, I’m only slightly less intimidated than I was as a teen, of testosterone at its most adolescent. While I believe in the validity of, “channeling my inner 17 year old male,” and no doubt will during some insanely steep grade this Saturday, the way I found my way out of the “fear swamp” a few weeks ago, was to figure out how to ride the Death Ride MY way.

The Andes - 12,000 ft

Riding my way is to ride with my Mother, the Great Mother. Ah! Suddenly, my training turned a corner. I began each ride more relaxed, I softened toward the strength already in my being, and it’s hunger to grow when I call on the kind of rider I really want to be: She who Rides with The Mother. Afterall, who but She knows better, the bends in the road? Who, if not She, is the peak and plummet creating Monitor, Ebbetts and Carson Passes.

The Andes, 10,000 ft

It is She who receives the afternoon sun, thunder or hail with neutral appropriation, and She who decorates her slopes with trees, wildflowers, and beings in flight. This Saturday, with every oxygen-limited breath I can remember, I will tap Her wisdom; I will channel her Strength; I will ask for Her Grace; and I will ride with Her at my side – breathless and quivering – for as long as I can.

Death Ride, 2012

Nectar’s On: drinking in the Solstice

Posted on June 20, 2012 by Lauren Van Ham

The joyous rituals of Litha (Midsummer) celebrate the verdant Earthin high summer, abundance, fertility, and all the riches of Nature in full bloom. This is a madcap time of strong magic and empowerment… At Midsummer, the veils between the worlds are thin; the portals between “the fields we know” and the worlds beyond stand open. This is an excellent time for rites of divination. The Litha Sabbat is a time to celebrate both work and leisure, it is a time for children and childlike play. It is a time to celebrate the ending of the waxing year and the beginning of the waning year, in preparation for the harvest to come.

– Salem Nightshade (twopagans.com)

You do not need to know precisely what is happening, or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment, and to embrace them with courage, faith, and hope.

-Thomas Merton

There is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost.

—Martha Graham

You might recall, a few blog posts back, my mentioning, ‘beekeeping…’

Lauren bedecked in bee suit

Yep! That’s me in my bee suit. My friend, Frances, and I installed our bees in a freshly-painted hive at the end of April.

Bee installation

Since then, the colony that began as around 3,000 has steadily increased; conservatively, there are about 10,000 bees now, building comb and making honey.

Liberating the Queen, welcoming her to her hive

But this blog isn’t about bees. And thank goodness, because I have so much to learn! For example, when we first introduced the bees to their new home in Frances’ backyard, we were instructed to feed them sugar syrup, to fuel their efforts. Then, a few weeks ago, new terminology appeared in our instructions: “Nectar’s on!” At this point in the summer season, we learned, the bees are ready to go it alone and flower foraging is prime: the, nectar is, “on.”

Got it! And the bees get it, too – they’re a flurry of activity at the hive’s door, defending the entrance with special bee dances, feeding their queen, creating their comb, tending their brood, discovering new nectar sources, making honey…. They’re dazzling, really. And I find myself thinking about them multiple times a week. And, even though this blog isn’t about them specifically, when it comes to tending our own impulses and inspirations this Summer Solstice, I think we’d be wise to take our clues from these buzzing beauties.

What do I mean?

I mean that consciously, or unconsciously we (in the Northern Hemisphere), have arrived in a wonderfully creative season, the longest days of the year. Our nectar’s on, so to speak, and it’s a time for exuberant experimentation. With the sun at its zenith, the time is right for growing our seedling ideas into standing-their-own-ground actions.

As documented in ancient day rituals, Greek theatre, famous operas, and Woody Allen films, zany-cuckoo things happen on the Solstice.

Getting zany in the rainforest

This season pushes us to unfold our own myth, to invite an adventure with our muse. It does this with relaxed urgency.

Relaxed urgency? Effortless compulsion? It’s the energy we exude when we can’t not do something. It’s not frenetic, it just happens, an outpouring of attraction. There’s no stopping the watermelon from expanding on its vine, and the bees – though we call them ‘busy’ – are wonderfully instinctive, simply doing what they love: feeding on nectar and attending their Queen.

And here’s where creativity becomes even more brilliant! Devoted and determined, the bees drink from the blossoms of strawberries, almonds, onions, broccoli, tangerines, coconuts, carrots, grapes…on and on. We can offer unending gratitude in response, because their nectar fascination becomes cross-pollination, a divinely creative act on which our very lives depend.

And so I’m wondering, in this blog that’s not about bees, how we can be more like them? How might our everyday creations — those things we do because we feel the impulse, a loving need — how might those acts fuel the life unfolding for the rest of us? My heart dizzies at the thought.

So, in these days of Solstice Sunlight, be a bee!

Create, improvise, play! Refrain from censoring yourself.

Employ relaxed urgency. Move toward what you love, and let yourself be moved.

Know that what you create sustains yourself, and therefore others.

And finally, if things get a little wild, a little silly, a little – oh my goodness! – FUN, then blame it on the nectar –Shakespeare did!

Create and make merry…like our very lives depend on it. Indeed, they do!