Blue

Blue

• Intelligence
• Communication
• Trust
• Efficiency
• Serenity
• Duty
• Logic
• Coolness
• Reflection
• Calm

I've decided to try an experiment and focus on each of the colors in turn. I've been reading about the psychology of color and find it fascinating. I want to see what happens when I really turn my attention to a particular color. So I decided to start with blue.

The first thing I noticed were the clouds at dawn—a deep cobalt blue. I even saw a patch of blue sky. The mountains were a deep blue as well. What a sense of joy this color brings! Blue is not a sad color at all, but full of hope and promise. In the midst of a cold winter day, that glimpse of blue sky brought memories of sunshine and summer.

The heavens are blue and lift my sight upwards. I feel my vision is expanding. So much seems possible when I see the blue sky.

Today I need to bring blue to my work—calmness, efficiency, communication and intelligence. And discipline. Any new requests will have to wait in line. I've got enough to do already.

If I had all the blue qualities I needed, what would I do next?

• Organize my day and schedule any new demands for a later time.
• Set a policy for turn-around time.

How would blue help me solve today's challenges?

• I'd feel like I'm more on top of things and have a plan.

*****

It worked! I was able to get through my work today and not feel so scattered and chaotic. I got a lot done and I actually do feel more on top of things. In fact, I was able to get started on one of those 'headache' projects I'd been putting off and it doesn't seem so enormous now.

I wonder what the next color will bring?

What is prayer?

I'm trying to live my life from the inside out, to delve in and find the pith of life and live it authentically. I've never been one for surface talk and chit-chat. I'm on a journey, a quest for what is real and meaningful and to live from there. It's a spiritual journey.

One of the questions I've been pondering is "what is prayer?" Why? Because I feel a deep connection to something deeper and greater than what I see with my eyes. I'm searching for the words to describe what I experience.

My "church" right now is the young cedar tree down the lane. I go there in the mornings, next to the field, and just watch and look and listen. Sometimes I'm very quiet and reflective. Other times I feel my soul stirred by the breeze and the fresh air in my lungs and my heart just bursts out singing. A huge wave of joy and gratitude and love washes over me.

That's the key—love! When I kiss my daughter goodnight, that's a prayer. When I hug my husband, that's a prayer. When I pour my heart into my work and render a service, that's a prayer.

Prayer is the flow of love. It flows to us, through us, surrounds us. It connects us to mysteries beyond our comprehension. And to the living, breathing people standing right in front of us. It opens our minds and cheers our hearts. It nourishes our souls and calls them to dance.

So often I approach prayer as a requirement, a duty. But it's so much more than the "murmur of syllables and sounds." It is the music of the soul, the breath of life, a connection to all that is and to the life-force that animates the universe.

Life Force

When I come to my stillness spot by the cedar tree, it takes awhile for the mental chatter in my mind to settle down. I breathe the fresh air into my lungs and I just watch and notice and listen. Each day is different—foggy, rainy, sunny.

Lately when I come to the cedar tree and my mind becomes quiet, I feel an exhilarating joy sweep over me. I feel connected to the earth and the trees and the birds, yes. But this is something deeper. It's like the wind—invisible, yet felt, stirring all things and filling them with song. Yet, even as I listen to the winding singing through the trees, I realize it's much deeper than that. It is the force that moves the stars and fires the sun. Deeper, more subtle, more inexplicable than anything I can imagine.

In that moment when my mind quiets, I feel that energy thrill through me and I know I am alive.

Restoring creativity

I've been practicing stillness in the mornings for a couple weeks and now I feel impatient - "Okay, enough of that. Time to get on with it." This stillness is hard. I know it's valuable, but I just don't want to do it. I want to get things done. So what would I have once I get everything done?

• Satisfaction
• An orderly environment
• A chance to create

Ah yes! Create. And that comes from stillness too. Oh my goodness! I am trying to get things done in order to allow enough stillness in my life to be able to create. I've always approached it this way - "get the work done first and then you can play." But these couple weeks, I've turned it on its head. I've been working on stillness first and then I go and get the work done. And the work is getting done.

By focusing on stillness first, I'm also building up my reserves. I was completely bone dry. No energy, no creativity left. When I started practicing stillness in the mornings, I'd do just fine for a couple hours, but by the afternoon, I felt crushed flat. Now I'm able to keep up my energy all day. I have a feeling my creativity will come back too.

Maybe I really did have it all backwards. Maybe the trick really is to feed the source of the creativity first, rather than get all the work done first. The tell-tale sign for me is sewing. That's my creative outlet. When I'm sewing, I feel so much more whole. Yet it's the last thing on my list. I just can't sew when I'm agitated or feel like I've got too much to do. So I'm practicing stillness in the mornings, replenishing my reserves, getting done what needs to get done and making space to create something beautiful.

It's kind of like the standard financial advice you always get - "pay yourself first." Put money into savings first and then pay the bills on the rest. So I've been taking care of myself first, and amazingly, the work is getting done too.

I used to charge right into the work because there was so much to do. It felt like everything was urgent and had to be done now. I wore myself out racing to do it all. Now I'm getting a better sense of pace and rhythm. Some things do need to be done today. Others can get done sometime this week. Taking time in the mornings has helped me not feel so frenzied. By putting stillness first, I've discovered that there is enough time.

Stillness

I know why we avoid stillness, why we stay so busy all the time. It's darn scary. What if I stop "doing" and become still and discover I'm empty inside? What if there's nothing there?

At first it feels great to just stop the inner mental chatter and look at the blades of grass and the twigs on the trees. I get a glimpse of the extraordinary beauty and immense variety of the natural world - even in the midst of winter.

But when I start to go deeper, I realize I am alone. Even my dearest, closest loved ones cannot get inside my head. I am one, single human being. A wave of loneliness swept over my so intense it brought tears to my eyes.

But then I looked again at the grass and the twigs and suddenly saw them with new eyes. I am a child of the earth, a daughter of the sky. The trees are my brothers, the grasses my sisters. I am separate and apart, but I am also one with all creatures that live and breath on this earth. We breathe the same air, we drink the same water. I am an independent mind and an individual soul, but I am also part of a whole much bigger and vaster than I can imagine.

I go back to my family and realize I am part of something extraordinary. Individually we each have wonderful gifts. But together we help one another bring those gifts forward and polish them until they shine. And we have a lot of fun in the process. I still must do my own inner work, but the people around me help me see what that work is and how far I've come.

Stillness is still not easy for me. But slowly I'm learning to trust that it is not empty. I'm finding it more like an ocean—every time I dive down, I find a pearl.

Taking care of oneself

Yesterday, I went for a walk and the wind was blowing. It was amazing to hear the different sounds it made. I could hear the wind in the trees across the field, and in the trees behind me. When I turned my head, the wind was right in my ear. Each sound was distinct. I could see the wind bending the new blades of grass, but I couldn't hear a sound from the wide open field. I stood next to a young cedar tree, just a few years old. A baby, really, but growing tall. It's branches were soft and gentle against my face. Yesterday it was the wind, ever the wind. And I stood and listened and listened and listened.

It's a curious thing about taking care of myself. It always feels like it will take so much time, so I put it off. Stillness? Who needs stillness? I've got too much to do! So I plowed into my busy schedule, finishing client projects, tending to my family, taking care of all the details of the holidays. And I wore myself out.

Now I still have client projects and family to tend to. The holidays are over, but taxes are upon me (one of the many perks of working for oneself - taxes are due 4 times a year). But this time I decided to take care of myself first. I write and walk and listen in the mornings. Then I get on with the rest of my work.

Amazingly, the work is all getting done! And I feel like I'm replenishing myself bit by bit each day. I used to think I didn't have time to take care of myself. Now I realize I can't afford not to.

Oh look! The sun is rising. What incredible colors! Time for that walk - a window is just not enough on a day like this. I've got to be out in it.

* * *

That was one spectacular sunrise - yellows, oranges, pink, purple, blue. A symphony of color across the entire sky. I had no idea taking care of myself could be so much fun!

Stillness Spot

Today I went to my stillness spot - my special spot behind the young cedar tree. There's actually a view there, but today it was foggy. All I saw was the curve of the hill below me and the tops of the trees.

It was hard to quiet the chatter in my mind. The planes overhead didn't help. And the morning commute was loud, even from the distant country road. But I stood there anyway and watched the mist. It stole in like a ghostly army. First the wisps on the leading edge, then thicker and thicker until the horizon disappeared. Just the tops of the trees were visible. With the fog came quiet, even the planes and cars were muffled.

For a moment, the briefest of breaths, there was stillness. A mysterious moment where there was nothing, yet which contained all things. It was like the long-lost voice of a dear friend in the distance, whispering, calling me back — "Remember..." And then it was gone.

But I'll be back tomorrow.

Solid

I'm trying to write more, so I've made time in my mornings to write, to think, to be still. There's a place down the lane where I can go and I'm visually shielded from the man-made world. It's the other side of the cedar tree. I go and just stand there and look and listen. I'm practicing stillness. I'm not very good at it yet, but I figure if I keep practicing, I'll get better.

The first day I just stood there. After awhile I realized the earth was solid under my feet. I was surprised at what a relief that was. I've been going, going, going for months, really busy, feeling like I had to "make it all happen."

But in that moment I realized I don't have to make the earth solid. It's just there, always there, under my feet. The source of my sustenance, my life. I don't have to create it. I don't have to "make it happen." It's just there—always there—under my feet.

What I needed was already here

2009 was drawing to a close and I decided I needed a new beginning - a new year, a new decade. So I cleaned out my home office.

I hauled everything out into the family room - files, pens, papers, boxes, books. All but the furniture. I moved the desk near the window and the whole room opened up. It's beautiful!

But then I had a problem -  the two file cabinets I had at my desk just wouldn't fit. So I dived into the sorting. What a pile of paper! And what a blessing a computer is - so much storage in so little space.

I recycled, reduced and rearranged and ended up with just the set of working files I needed at my desk. But I still needed a place to put them. An under-the-desk file cabinet would be perfect. I looked online and then realized the cart I was using for office supplies has racks for hanging files. Voila! Problem solved.

As I continued sorting my stuff, the same thing happened over and over again - every time I had a need, I found I already had a solution. I just needed to look for it.

• The red notebook was too big to fit into the filebox. And there in the GoodWill pile was a smaller notebook that fit perfectly.
• The guest bed is in my office and we had a small bedside table for a lamp and clock. But with this new arrangement, the table just looked tiny. Sure enough, I found another table that fit the space better.
• Before, I was running out of space in my office, but by clearing out all the junk, I discovered I had plenty of space for the things I need to actually do my work.

Now, after a full car load to the recycling center and another to Good Will, I have a clean, spacious office. And far from feeling like I had to "make do," I feel so rich - everything I needed was already here!

Riches of the Soul

What would our world look like if we actually followed the rhythms of the earth? Modern society moved away from the farm in our quest for more. We set up factories that run 24 hours a day. We created businesses that demand people work in offices for 8, 10, 16 hours a day. It's damaging us (look at the obesity rate) and it's damaging the earth.

The thing that really intrigues me is that we human beings are hard-wired to strive for more. If you try to tell us to make do with less, there's an inner rebellion. We feel deprived.

It's not the "more" that's the problem--it's how it is directed. We got away from creating more (the farm) to consuming more. We don't build and create with our own two hands anymore. We have this gaping hole in our psyche that we try to fill up with things. But things don't satisfy—we still feel hungry and all we know to do is to buy more stuff.

So what does satisfy? When I look at the times I felt truly fed, it was moments of inner richness:

• A heartfelt conversation with a friend.
• Creating something beautiful out of a few raw materials.
• A good run (actually, in my case, it's a good skip) or a strenuous hike to the top of a mountain.
  
• Standing in a forest or on a mountain with the earth beneath my feet and the air in my face.
• Stepping out on a starry night, gazing in wonder at a bejeweled sky.
• Holding the hand of a child as she discovers a ladybug.
• A quiet moment when all the inner chatter ceases—a glimpse of that deep peaceful stillness from which all things come.
• The spray of the ocean, the mist of a waterfall.

These are the moments when my heart feels full to bursting, when my spirit comes up dancing. These are the moments that fill my life with richness. This is my true wealth. A new pair of shoes or a new car is great, but no object can fill my life like the riches of the soul. That's what I want more of. That's what I want to create in my life. That's why I'm here.