Archives for category: Personal Growth

No! This post is not about managing financial resources.  It’s about cultivating the qualities that inspire you on your life’s path. 

We live on a hillside, so any travel coming or going requires ascending slopes. The shortest is a half-mile. The longest is more than twice that.  In addition to length, the slopes vary in gradient, a fact that immediately becomes apparent when walking them! 

During the recent heat wave, I set out for an early morning walk. Hot and tired as I labored up one half-mile stretch near the end, a voice asked me, why are you doing this? Fortunately, my mind found enough oxygen to deliver an answer. 

As I have written in posts over the years, we only control two things in life – our attitude and our effort. Rather than dwell on my fatigue and the distance remaining to reach the crest of the hill, a rationale came to mind that bolstered my attitude: your effort is an investment in your future; you are tending your physical health, and you are following your vocation to explore meaning in life’s terrain and share its lessons with others.

The effort in this example involves setting an intention to cultivate physical health, breaking its attainment into manageable pieces, and following through by walking those steps. The attitude includes reminding myself that if I take one step at a time with the expectation that that there are lessons to learn, I can do this.  

As you consider your own path, what goals do you currently have that are worthy of your effort? What intentions might you adopt today? Then ask yourself, what manageable steps can I take each day to move up the hills in my life to achieve those desired outcomes?    

Since attending a couple of retreats he led over twenty years ago, I have been a fan of Parker Palmer. He recently published a post from one of his books that summons us to shine our inner light on the shade of each day. 

A lot of us find ourselves on the dark side of the moon these days. We are laid low by nonstop “breaking news” that ranges from bad to worse, then even worse… 

When will we ever learn? Do we have time to learn? Those are questions for which I have no self-assured answer. But here are three things I know with a certainty:

(1) Turning our backs on all of this deepens the depression that will hasten our demise.

(2) Talking with people we trust about this darkness allows us to grieve together in ways that will, in the long run, keep us engaged with life.

(3) How we live our lives still matters. If each of us lived with even deeper reverence and respect for the natural and human worlds—and joined hands with others as we do—we would increase the flow of humility, healing, and new life.

Memo to Self: As you muddle thru your own version of this darkness, remember that there is an inner Light that you and you alone control. Every day look for some way to show up in your personal, vocational, and/or public life with whatever Light you have.  We are at the end of an era of destructive delusions. Let us be midwives of the best possible new reality by holding this time of transition in the Light… 

When we feel certain that the human soul is no longer at work in the world, it’s time to make sure that ours is visible to someone somewhere. 

Listening to the radio this past week, I heard the spokesman conclude his interview with his guest, “thank you for your time.” My first reaction was that his words were a news person’s formulaic closure. And then a much deeper interpretation took over.  What else do we have to offer each other than our time? And, building on that thought, what are the signature qualities of the time we offer?

I vividly recall an episode in New York City in my teen years. The setting may have been Times Square or Grand Central Station.  I don’t remember.  What I do recall is seeing a huge digital time display calibrated to tenths of a second which greatly amplified and dramatized the speed of life’s passing. Decades later to the yawns of our progeny’s generation, I join my senior cohort with the frequent lament, where did the time go?     

That said, the invitation remains for each of us to shape our time ahead, whatever our age or circumstances. We need not be deterred, thinking that our gifts are only worthy if they are world-changing. For most of us the gifts of our time and attention may help a few others change their worlds. Acts of kindness, holding space, listening, offering open-ended questions and affirming are blessings of daily discourse we can offer those in our circles of care. 

In his book from 1946, Yes to Life in Spite of Everything, Viktor Frankl reminds us that each of us can show up in the moment with an attitude that makes a difference.

What we “radiate” into the world, the “waves” that emanate from our being, that is what will remain of us when our being itself has long passed away. (p. 45)

Over the weekend trees blown by the wind fell on electrical lines cutting off power to many members of our community. Thanks to the efforts of those tasked with disentangling heavy limbs from live wires and repairing broken connections, power was restored within a matter of hours.

For the most part those of us living in remote areas are accustomed to such interruptions and have attuned our attitudes and responses accordingly. At the same time, I confess that powerful winds tap the fears in my lizard brain.

Perhaps planted during childhood in Kansas and Oklahoma when tornado warnings would send our family to huddle in our shelter rooms, those fears grew with age during years of monitoring hurricanes coming up the east coast when we lived there. Today, strong gusts continue to bring me the greatest unease.

Yesterday, I discovered that a large birch tree on our land had succumbed to the wind’s force. Fortunately, it fell downhill from the lines into our house. As I assessed the situation it occurred to me that the very forces I feared had brought a gift. Laid out before me was the balance of firewood we would need to feed our stoves in the coming winter. In addition, the timing could not be more propitious, occurring before the full arrival of the seasonal black fly nuisance. As the picture shows, I began bucking it up.

Perhaps this episode can serve as reminder to you as well. What is a gift within the fears you face today? How can it help transform your prospects for the coming days?  Is it helpful to know that you are not alone?


Lessons from the liminal life

The pandemic has thrust us into a free fall, a plummet into loss – of control, resources, relationships, health, and for too many, life itself. We are suspended between what was and what will be. We are in a liminal time.

Liminal passages are periods of “neither/nor” as well as “both/and.” An adolescent, whose behavior embraces both realities, is no longer a child but not yet an adult. When we mourn, we honor the blessings of the intimacies we knew while holding the pain of the loss.

Joseph Campbell and Arnold Van Gennep studied and identified key patterns of the liminal time. Focusing on four of those dynamics may help us take more control over the trajectory of our own upended lives.

Each liminal stage holds for us a jewel, a truth of insight, knowledge or understanding. In order to access that precious awareness, we go through many demanding trials. We are challenged by trolls, those who confront us with the dark sides of our nature, and we are assisted by guides, those who elicit our redeeming lights. Inevitably, the precious jewel is protected by a guardian who must be persuaded or conquered to gain access.

Liminal times beckon us to identify and generate our answers to four questions.

  • What for me are the jewels at the heart of this difficult time?
  • Who is/are the guardian/s of those precious insights?
  • What are the dark-side trolls keeping me from getting there?
  • Who are the guides I can turn to for advocacy and support?

This time of great upheaval threatens us individually and collectively. With the time granted us may one of our responses be to seek the growth possible within it, and may we support each other in that pursuit.

Have you ever looked back to identify key inflection points in your life and then wondered where you’d be today, if only your path had unfolded differently? Those of us in life’s later decades are more prone to such ruminations, as we cull our history and downsize our footprint. Nonetheless, I dare say that, whatever our age, most of us revisit turning points in our past.

For some of us those critical events were imposed upon us without our invitation or permission. I think of serious illnesses, disabilities, abuse, natural disasters. In addition, on occasion most of us wonder what our answers would be if only we had chosen a different history related to vocation, location, primary relationships or other options in our purview. What all of us experience, at least on this plane, is that there are few opportunities to redo those critical circumstances or decisions and their consequences.

Today’s post is intended not to second guess or replay the past with the hope of a different outcome, but rather to heed the forward pull of if only. What lies ahead for each of us? What decisions can we make now to align our move into the future in ways that are congruent with our core values and aspirations?

What one step is blocking you most in creating the life ahead of you? If only you identify that single action and, reassured by the perspectives the past has given you, take it, you will move into the promise of your life’s next creation.

Holding myself accountable as well, if only I take the risk of writing and sharing these lines, vulnerable for all their inadequacies, perhaps you will feel nudged to take the first next step in creating your future history.

Clients often confront those of us engaged in the healing arts with perplexing and demanding dilemmas. It is part of what draws us into this work. Frequently, the queries stretch us with challenges that are either outside our life experience or too familiar from it. Either way, we can view the questions as threats to the presumption of our competence or doorways to new dimensions of understanding for both client and coach.

I was reminded of this recently by two events.  Last month’s annual Touched By A Horse Summit included the graduation ceremony of several persons who had successfully completed the intensive two-year coaching certification program. Having coached many TBAH students and graduates in past years and having shared in the launch of our own business, I am aware of questions that arise.  Sometimes they can be almost immobilizing, threatening our forward progress with the specter of inadequacy or failure.

The second recent event – the arrival in my email of one of my favorite poems by Denise Levertov – provides a tender reinforcement of the power of embracing questions as pathways to new insight and appreciation.  And remember, we need not be in the helping professions to embrace the questions of those whom we value most.

A Gift

Just when you seem to yourself
nothing but a flimsy web
of questions, you are given
the questions of others to hold
in the emptiness of your hands,
songbird eggs that can still hatch
if you keep them warm,
butterflies opening and closing themselves
in your cupped palms, trusting you not to injure
their scintillant fur, their dust.
You are given the questions of others
as if they were answers
to all you ask. Yes, perhaps
this gift is your answer.

(Sands of the Well)


Daily life is filled with our encounters with others.  Many meetings are in person. Many more arrive on our digital devices. Sometimes, like ocean waves people can lift us off our feet and pummel us. At other times, they can elevate us to see new possibilities.

It’s a mixture isn’t it?  Every day we meet people doing the best they can to live their lives, and we realize they are us and we are they.  As we compare ourselves to others, we see those who inspire or intimidate us with their virtues and achievements. We also encounter those whose beliefs are repugnant to our values and whose behaviors repel us.  What can we acquire from all whom we meet?

In Pocketful of Miracles, Joan Borysenko nudges us with two entries during the month of August. The first is to ask the question: “What can I learn from this person?” If it is someone who inspires, what steps might I take to emulate their path or prowess. If it is someone with whom I disagree, what truths about my values do they clarify or reinforce for me, and what actions might I take in response?

The second suggestion builds on two dynamics in psychology. The first is projection, a defense mechanism in which we attribute to someone else thoughts, feelings and ideas of our own that we consider unacceptable. The second dynamic is identification, in which we seek to pattern ourselves after those whom we admire.

Borysenko encourages us to be aware of any judgments we hold about another’s behaviors or attitudes and the truths our judgments may hold for us.  She also commends a mantra that Ram Dass uses to manage his own projections and aspirations: “And I am that, too.”

It has been a week rich in re-connections with friends – four consecutive days with four different couples and, in one case, three generations of their family. There are many common touchstones, including the college that educated and employed us and the vocations we pursued developing human potential, delivering a variety of healing arts and extending our physical and spiritual ties with the earth.

The backdrop for these gatherings included visits to a special island in Lake Winnipesaukee, the annual loon count on Squam Lake, an Arlo Guthrie concert in Maine and an annual family reunion located this year on Lake Winnisquam.

Over dinner last night a friend of our children’s generation asked what I was up to these days. My reply included culling the files and correspondence of many years and looking to connect the dots of meaning. In response he shared a phrase that struck a chord.

Years ago, on a three day trip to see a Grateful Dead concert he and some friends picked up an older hitchhiker. They had plenty of time for conversation while driving and camping out en route. Explaining his journey, the stranger shared that periodically he took stock and realized that his perspective on life had changed about every five years. He summed up his approach to the future this way: “I just want to stick around to see how the view changes…”

Shifting our perspective can serve us all well, no matter what our age. Are we stuck in the expectation of a pre-ordained outcome? How do we open ourselves and our relationships to new possibilities? How can we continue to make a difference in the lives of those most dear to us and the communities we call home?


Are you stuck in your hesitancy to step into dreams or duties deferred?  If so, perhaps this post will encourage you to move forward.  This week brought a valuable reminder of how quickly time is passing along with a wakeup call to fill the days remaining with overlooked opportunities.

The occasion was my college class reunion. Given that it was our 55th, attendance was much less than five years ago.  However, connecting with a cadre of companions who have shared many of life’s milestones sparked some new insight and energy.  Our physical and mental capacities are waning, but the lights of our accomplishments and connections shone brightly, revealing occasions that still beckon.

This morning I received the following message in my inbox.  It is from Joe Riley who shares poems periodically through Panhala.  It reminds us that it is never too late to seize the day and the blessings it holds, even if the actions appear to be small.  May it strike a chord with you.

Variation On A Theme By Rilke

(The Book of Hours, Book I, Poem 1, Stanza 1)

A certain day became a presence to me;
there it was, confronting me — a sky, air, light:
a being. And before it started to descend
from the height of noon, it leaned over
and struck my shoulder as if with
the flat of a sword, granting me
honor and a task. The day’s blow
rang out, metallic — or it was I, a bell awakened,
and what I heard was my whole self saying and singing what it knew: I can.

~ Denise Levertov, (Breathing the Water)