New Year's thoughts

As I was thinking about this post, I was watching "Shirley Valentine", a movie about a 40-something woman who impetuously decided to live her life, as opposed to the life that had moved in and taken over her months and years. There was a line in the movie that perfectly captured what I had been thinking about in regards to my own life. "I fell in love with the idea of living."

As I deliberately considered what in my life needed to be chucked out with the garbage, I also began to muse on what needed to be embraced and welcomed in. The answer that came back to me was the word PLEASURE. Pleasure in all of its forms, large or small, lasting or transitory. And I recognize that, for me at least, this has to be a conscious choice that is made over and over each day until it becomes the norm rather than the exception in my life.

Some of this can be achieved simply by noticing and appreciating the things that are around me. The flickers and robins that nest near my home. The squirrels that cavort through the trees. The sound of rain as it drips outside my window. The smell of baking, the feel of silk and wool, the gurgle of someone else's baby. All of the free and delightful things that cross my path and don't cost a dime.

Then there are those things that I will make small efforts to welcome in. Getting up early to head into the woods just to see what interesting birds are to be found in that time and place. Eschewing cheap chocolate for the occasional perfect truffle. A glass of wine with a dear friend. A lingering glance and a gentle touch just when it is most needed.

There are also those larger things that I will go full out to hunt down and capture. A satisfying career, the ability to spin fine yarn, a fulfilling relationship and expanded awareness.

I am determined to wake up each morning asking myself the question, "How can I most fully live today?" And equally determined to follow the answer through whatever adventures may present themselves. Some days will give small delights, others will give full blown, mind blowing pleasures. All of them, when approached with awareness, will give something that enhances life as a whole. Some will give pains, it is true, but even those will bring experiences and knowledge that could enhance life further down the road.

I knew a Franciscan friar once who gave a retreat talk that he called his "fantasy of death." In this fantasy, when one dies and goes to heaven, one is nearly tackled and bear-hugged by God. God is so excited to see them and can't stop asking how the experience was and what they liked best, what was their favorite part. And I realize now that I've not focused on my favorite parts at all. It's past time that I got a list of those things going.

So many of us view life as work, a slog, and even suffering, to be gotten through. I know that was the case for me throughout most of my life. But, wouldn't it be better if we viewed it in a different way? Shouldn't we want to be the child we once were, wanting to lick the cake beaters, have one more story, suck down the last drop of juice? We were wiser as children than we are as adults.

Granted the less wonderful things will raise their heads and we will have to deal with them. But they simply must be less draining to those who are living out loud and to the fullest with the intention of living well. I'm determined to find out first hand. If you're trying to find me, it will be easy. I'll be the one standing over there with a huge smile, licking the chocolate of life off my lips. Care to join me?

Of Flying and Strawberries

"Would God give a bird wings and make it a crime to fly?" - Robert G. Ingersoll.

I've been musing on this quote for a couple of weeks now. Obviously, the author isn't talking about birds, but what might it mean regarding people? So much of our training, conditioning and up-bringing seems focused on controlling ourselves, which seems to frequently entail a very long list of what we may not do. And, sadly, it seems to end up curtailing self-expression and the enjoyment of many of life's pleasures. And my thinking leads me to conclude that this is simply ungrateful.

A turning point in my thinking about enjoyment happened well into my 30's on the occasion of my first massage. Having grown up in a time, place, and tradition that frowned on physical pleasure, it took some hard thinking on my part to decide to sign up for the massage. I was on a week-long silent religious retreat and massage was an option available on request. I knew one of the therapists. She explained what I could expect and suggested that I think about it. In a few hours, I'd thought enough to give it a shot. After all, I knew her and trusted her, what could possibly be wrong with it?

I was very nervous, but I signed up and managed to not cancel the appointment. Little did I know that it would have not just a physical effect, but also a spiritual effect on me. The room was dimly lit and as I lay face down on the table, I very slowly began to relax. The therapist asked if anything hurt. I told her that nothing did. How little I knew about my body and it's sensations. When she put her hands on my shoulders, I almost raised off the table, they were so painful. She told me that that was frequently the way, that we often don't recognize the pain that we are carrying around with us. As she gently started working on the knots, I ever so slowly relaxed and my mind began to drift as I casually examined the sensations. At one point, my mind followed a thought that was so strong that I almost heard it. "If we were only meant to have bread and water, why did God make strawberries?" I managed to maintain my relaxed state through the rest of the massage, but my mind was on fire for many days after that.

Why indeed? Everything in my background supported the notion that life was suffering. One was not to expect anything because that would only lead to disappointment. That there was, in fact, some sort of virtue in suffering. But now I had the evidence of the strawberries to contend with. For the first time in my life, I came face to face with the idea that life, every bit of it, was to be enjoyed rather than endured. And, further, to refuse to enjoy it was tantamount to ungratefully throwing the gift back at the Giver. It took another decade or so for this realization to solidify in my life, but it has remained, quietly nudging me to clearer recognition and response.

We refuse so many of the pleasurable gifts of life, whether through a sense of decorum and propriety or that of following what is expected. We smile when a child cheerfully skips past us, but we would never skip ourselves. We don't sing aloud, laugh aloud or love aloud for fear of being unseemly or improper. We don't reach for the brass ring because we might fail or look foolish in the attempt. We never indulge ourselves in massage or rich foods or long lingering looks because.....because.....why?

One of the gifts we have is that of our senses. Our nerves and emotions fire pleasure through our brains, if we but allow them to. But more often than not we clip our own wings and refuse to fly. Sometimes out of necessity, but other times out of a fear of disapproval from others. Each of us have different potential pleasurable paths before us; it is only for us to choose our preferred way. What sorts of grateful flights are we denying ourselves? And what would it take for each of us to fly?