Rev. Butter

How's Your Soil?

There is an ancient parable about a farmer.  One day he goes out to plant his crops.  Some of the seed falls on dry ground.  It burns in the sun before it has a chance to grow.  Some of the seed falls on rocky soil.  The plants grow quickly, but without enough good earth the plants wither in the heat.

Some of the seed falls among the thorns.  As the shoots emerge from the ground, they choke from too little light.  But some of the seed falls on good earth.  The plants in the rich soil grow tall and produce much grain.  The farmer harvests these and feeds on their bounty.

You are like the earth.  You can be tired, burned out like dry soil.  A person who is dry has used up their precious energy.  Doing too much of anything can dry your soil.

You are like the earth.  You can be scattered, uneven like rocky soil.  A person who is rocky is doing too many things.  While you have not burned up your energy, you are not focused.  As a result, whatever you do starts well and then ends too soon, incomplete and unfulfilled.

You are like the earth.  You can be uninspired, depressed like thorny soil.  A person who is thorny does not have the motivation to own their life.  While you’re not doing too much, you can’t find the energy.  You’re not spread thin, but you don’t know what to do.  You get out of bed, but you don’t quite know why.

You are like the earth.  You can be energized, focused, and inspired like rich soil. A person who is rich has the drive, the clarity, and the passion to take on challenges, to embrace your goals, and to produce the results that fulfill your life.

The first step to the graceful life is measuring your energy.  Every morning, when you wake up, look in the mirror.  Observing your face, your body, and your eyes; ask yourself, “How is my soil?”  Are you like a dry path, burned out?  Are you rocky soil, spread too thin?  Are you thorny soil because you are depressed?  Or are you good soil?  Are you ready to spend your day loving?

When we answer this question, notice your first response—-it is often the truth.  If you are dry, spend this day resting.  If you are rocky, simplify your life today—-even one less thing to do will begin the healing.  If you are thorny, read a favorite author, seek out advice from a mentor or friend, or pray:  whatever you can do to rediscover the passion that moves you. 

On days when we wake up good soil, our first response can be, “Thank you.”  While everyone deserves to feel peace, even if we take the right actions we cannot control what happens to us.  Grace is like water.  It is by grace, undeserved blessing that pours into us, that we are ready to love.  We can do our best, however, to be ready to drink.  That is why we ask ourselves, “How is my soil?”

We can also ask each other.  Imagine if part of our greeting someone included, “How’s your soil?”  Suddenly we move those around us to look deeply into their spirit, and take care of their needs.  Then they do the same for us.  We cannot help another person rest, simplify, or find inspiration.  We can, however, care whether they are good soil. 

Some people need rest to reenergize.  Other people need to exercise.  Some people need to pray in quiet, while others need to be social.  What reenergizes you?

Some people need time to think so they can focus.  Some people need to work with a coach.  Some people need to do one thing at a time while others do many different things in a particular direction.  What focuses you?

Some people need to read for inspiration.  Other people find inspiration in teachers and gurus.  Silence inspires some while music and dancing moves others.  What inspires you?

If you are dry, reenergize.  If you are rocky, focus more.  If you are thorny, seek inspiration.  If your soil is rich, live aware yours is a graceful life. 

Ice Cream for Lunch

You cannot stop groups of people from changing.  Family, friends, neighborhoods, and nations:  you are not in control of the strange twists that take away the traditions you always thought you'd have. 

I had lunch today with my grandparents.  Over the last few years they have drifted into dementia.  Alzheimer's or just old age, my grandma can't remember what's just happened and my grandfather can't remember the past. 

When I was young, they used to take me to Dairy Queen for lunch.  We'd eat Blizzards.  I got peanut butter cups blended in vanilla.  They both got a shot of chocolate and Heath bar added to their soft serve.  They didn't make us get a sandwich or a hot dog to ruin our appetite.  I will never forget the satisfaction of eating pints of ice cream for lunch with my grandparents.

So today, I brought them their favorite DQ treats.  I listened as my Grandfather talked about today and reminded my grandmother what they were doing.  I watched my Grandma comfort my Grandfather as he got anxious about the story he couldn't complete.  I experienced the same satisfaction of eating ice cream for lunch even though my grandparents are different people. 

What family, friends, or community is different for you?  Where has the world changed?  What spirit did you enjoy before?  You can recreate that spirit.

I can never have my grandparents back.  They will pass soon and even their presence will be only memory.  But I can focus on what it felt like to be treated to a sinful meal of only dessert.

My Godchild is four.  He is coming to visit with his family next week.  I know where we're going for lunch.  Learning that I can recreate experiences of meaning and hope in an ever changing world:  the graceful life. 

Monkey Eating Eagles

"What do eagles eat MaMa?"  My Cousin's two year old daughter asked.

"Monkeys."  She said.  Her daughter nodded and continued eating breakfast.  The rest of the family paused and then exploded with laughter.

"Eagles don't eat monkeys."  We said.  We all laughed again.  I went to Google.  It turns out, eagles eat monkeys.  Bald eagles prefer fish, but if they're in the rain forest, they eat monkeys.  There is, in fact, a variety of bird known as the "Philippine Monkey-Eating Eagle."  They are a big bird, monkeys are easily accessable in the treetops; hence, lunch.

Which is more comic, the absurdity of a monkey eating eagle or the fact that it actually exists? 

As the adults around her giggled, my little first cousin once removed finished her breakfast unphased, surrounded by the graceful life. 

Coach

You reach a point in your life where you need someone to show you what you're capable of.

For three years, I worked as a volunteer coordinator at a soup kitchen.  Every Monday night a diverse consortium of hungry men and women, many regulars and every week a few one-timers who just needed an extra meal to get by, would line up at the window for plates of delicious food. 

My job was to recruit volunteers not only to help with the cooking and clean-up, but to find people who wanted to spend time with the folks who were eating.  The clients--as those in the business call those who come to soup kitchens for meals--often were in greater need of human contact than nourishment.  You can find food in the strangest places--dumpsters, samples at the grocery store, a pie someone left out on their window to cool--but it's harder to find someone to eat with.

Every week I sat down with each of the clients for a few minutes.  I asked them how they were and made small talk about their favorite subjects.  Louis, a round, smelly man with glasses, liked to talk about where he found the most aluminum cans that week.  Paul, short and thin and always very neat, loved talking politics. 

Then there was one of my favorites, Butch.  He always wanted to know if I'd found him a job.  Some clients, many of them homeless, stopped fighting.  They simply survived and our meal program was a welcome evening of peace in a life without many rest stops.  For reasons I don't understand, Butch was different.

He complained about how difficult it was to get a job without an address, the struggles of living in different shelters, and what he would do with a regular paycheck.  His fantasy was not about island vacations or buying a boat; Butch wanted a room with a light where he could read all night (they turned the lights off at eleven in his shelter). 

Every week we would go through the want ads.  I would make suggestions about organizations that might be able to help.  We talked about interview strategies for framing his difficult past.  Mostly, I encouraged him.  Few of the other clients wanted to talk about the future.  They had accepted their life and they wanted company, not a pep talk. 

For the other clients, my job was to remind them, your life is beautiful, even as it's a struggle.  For Butch, without knowing it, I became the positive voice in his head that drowned out the demons.  Every week he heard me say, "Don't quit.  Don't stop looking for a job.  Don't give up on your room with a light on.  You're not alone."

Recently, I had a supervisor change my life.  He asked, "Are you doing your work to fulfill your ego or your soul?"  I had been feeling useless.  So many efforts to help people work on their faith, their relationships, how to communicate better, seemed pointless.  He responded, "The best work is not about end results, but moment to moment, filling your ego with your soul."

I didn't get it at first, until I remembered Butch.  After my first year at the soup kitchen, Butch stopped coming around.  I missed him, and hoped he was okay.  Then a year later, I ran into him on the subway.  He was clean, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, smiling. 

"I have a job," he said beaming.  It paid enough to rent a little room.  It was in a different part of the city so he was eating at different soup kitchens.  He said he was tired a lot.  He couldn't help himself from staying up reading. 

Then he said the line that I had forgotten, "Thanks for not giving up on me."

To fill the ego with soul, to do work that matters, whether in an office, a classroom, or a soup kitchen, ask yourself, "Who am I reminding that they have what it takes?" 

You may never see the results.  You may never know how you brought them hope.  You can't put the efforts on a resume.  You can't understand the way your encouragement, your belief in another person's value (even when they look like they've got no hope), and your willingness to listen for a few minutes can change a life.

You can, however, no matter what results your trying to achieve, check yourself.  As I'm working, whether the work is in corporations, classrooms, or soup kitchens, am I doing the work purely to fill my ego?  Or does the way I encourage the people around me count just as much?   

Sometimes you reach a point in your life where you need someone else to show you what you're capable of.  Sometimes you need someone to show you why you really do the work you do.  My supervisor asked me the question.  Butch became my symbol of how the best work is done.  Together, they revealed the graceful life.

Brother Marcus

I found this quote as I read Marcus Aurelius's Meditations.

“When you wake up in the morning, tell yourself:  The people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly.  They are like this because they can’t tell good from evil.  But I have seen the beauty of good, and the ugliness of evil, and have recognized that the wrongdoer has a nature related to my own-not of the same blood or birth, but the same mind, and possessing a share of the divine.  And so none of them can hurt me.  No one can implicate me in ugliness.  Nor can I feel angry at my relative, or hate him.  We were born to work together like feet, hands and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and low.  To obstruct each other is unnatural."

To obstruct each other is unnatural.  How often do you remember the times you have been hurt and want to do some serious obstruction?

I find myself, pre-Sunday, feeling loss.  It's becoming a Saturday night pattern.  My weekend (Friday and Saturday) ends, I'm prepping for a day of creating sacred space for hundreds of people, and all I can remember is the folks with whom I can't connect. 

Here's where Brother Marcus comes in.  We were born to work together.  If I see the same bad, and the same divine, in you and in me, I can't feel hurt by the times that have gone different than I expected. 

My problem is my expectations.  "No one can implicate me in ugliness."  Because I have the same ugliness in me as those I've let hurt me, I can understand.  I can appreciate what they've done because I've done the same things.  Intentionally or not, I've done harm. 

I've also done good.  I've also got the divine in me (as do those who I let hurt me).  Because the person who hurt me couldn't see what they were doing, that just makes them human.  Aprreciating their ugliness, I can expect it again.

Every time I see it, in myself or someone else, I can also remember that we have God in us, that obstructions are unnatural.  Working together even though we know things will be ugly:  the graceful life. 

Being the Stars

Here is a new meditation.  Lay on your back.  Take deep breathes to clear your mind.  Imagine yourself in a still pond, floating at night.  Look up at the stars.  See the stars.  Feel yourself floating. 

Now transition.  Imagine yourself floating in the stars.  You are free, in the cosmos, treating the universe like water. 

Now disappear.  Imagine yourself as the universe.  You are the stars and the night sky and the infinite black. 

I continue to do this meditation and have trouble disappearing.  But whether I'm sitting or laying, in a meeting or alone, taking myself in times of stress to the peace of laying in a pond is changing my moment to moment peace.  I am learning to be free.

Being the stars is the graceful life. 

Suffering

Until you accept the deeper reality of suffering, you cannot know peace.

Suffering is inevitable.  That's Buddhism's first noble truth.  It is the Judeo-Christian tradition's belief that you are made sinful (Remember:  to sin is to miss the mark, not to be bad.  It simply means as people, we are imperfect).

Unfortunately in the present instant-gratification culture, suffering is bad.  Suffering is something to be avoided at all costs.  The reality:  suffering is normal, and realizing healthy versus unnatural suffering is the key to being happy.

Anthony DeMello writes in his book Awareness, "Suffering points up an area in you where you have not yet grown, where you need to grow and be transformed and change." 

Suffering is not a problem; it is natural.  Our problem is our inability to use suffering as a moment to learn, to find out what matters most to us, and to rebuild our lives in a way that is peaceful.

Which, of course, will only lead to a different kind of suffering, a new learning, and a new, deeper peace.  Realizing suffering is a blessing to be used for good is the graceful life.

Cycles

Your body, your emotions, and your spirit, they cycle.  Doctors can tell you what your different physical systems do as they heal.  Psychologists name the stages of grief.  Spiritual teachers reveal the oft found patterns of forgiveness, prayer, and the universe.  All life is a series of cycles. 

Are you aware of yours? 

Here's the problem.  Most of us spend our time worried.  We worry...wait, I worry, about what I look like, feel like, and wonder about.  But that is my choice. It begins with the way I spend my days, the natural pattern of my emotions (if you've never read Kubler-Ross, go to your book store immediately), and the way I make meaning out of the suffering I can't help but face.

But what's different when I notice my worrying?  What is different in the quality of my life?

This weekend I went on my yearly hike with my buddies from college.  But it was different.  This year, one of our friends changed.  He decided I was not worthy of being his friend.

I continue to grieve this circumstance and struggle with the forgiveness cycle.  It used to be that some days I was angry, other days I was resolute, and still others, I didn't think of him at all (we were best friends for 12 years...such deaths are slow and painful).

Then, at dinner after the trip, one of my other buddie's wife said, "I see you being over this.  It's not about you.  You being bothered is your choice." 

'Oh God,' I thought.  'She's right.'

I can't stop the memories of my friend (who will always be a friend), feeling rejected, or wanting payback.  What I can choose is how long I let these negative thoughts and feelings remain in my body, my mind, and my spirit.

What do you need to think about or feel, and then let go of quickly?  You can't stop the memory, the feeling, or the desires that are not about growing a better world.  You can choose, however, how long you dwell in these moments.

I have let myself be overwhelmed by the grief.  Realizing it again, resolution is peaceful.  Realizing the negative thoughts, emotions, and hopelessness will come back, but I can let them go quickly--the graceful life. 

The Whale

The whale was stuck in the bay, covered in crab netting and traps.  Whales need to breathe air.  It was like a human swimming in a knight's chainmail.  The fisherman called a local environmental group.  They couldn't free the whale from the boat. 

The divers got in the water.  One swipe of the whale's tale kills a human.  They took their knives and slowly freed the animal. The diver by her head saw her eye watching him work. 

When the whale was finally free, it swam in happy, celebratory circles.  Then it did the unexpected.  It came up to each diver and gave a thank you tap with its nose. 

What if the humans had been too afriad to help?  What if the whale just swam away?  When we live from our spirits, our highest nature, our whole world is connected.  Experiencing it:  the graceful life.   

Poetry

God is the ocean.

You are a drop of water.

Be the ocean.