Just for Today

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“Just for today I will live through this day only and not try to solve all my problems at once” (from an Al-Anon bookmark entitled Just for Today.)

Memories of the past and anticipations of the future are not current reality. As I write, I’m looking over a pond where a mama duck is being followed by her babies. Earlier, I spotted two mourning doves guarding their nest.

When my mind is clear, I am free to notice what’s in front of me. My intention for the day: I am free to flow with the day.

Energy

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Last week I read a book entitled Rending the Veil by Ward J. Bauman, which was about the Gospel of Philip, one of the Dead Sea scrolls. This book awakened me to the realization that God is energy. Immediately, I remembered the burning bush that appeared to Moses. Then I thought of the pilot light in my fireplace, always there, ready to burst into full flame when needed.

What is God to you?

JUST FOR TODAY

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For almost 26 years I have worked the Al-Anon program, a way to live that is simple, but not easy. Its goal is for members to live peaceful lives, so that we emit the energy of serenity that sustains our own tranquility, as well as harmonious relationships. This morning I awoke with these words on my mind, from our bookmark entitled “Just for Today”: “Just for today I will try to live through this day only, and not tackle all my problems at once.” Along the way, I’ve also heard this slogan: “Be where your feet are.”

How are these words useful to you today?

Loving Ourselves

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Along the way, I have learned two important principles about love:

  1. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love keeps no record of wrongs. (1 Cor. 13)

  2. Love God first, myself second, and everyone else after that.

Lately I’ve been noticing that I say things to myself that I would not say to any other human being. Critical words. Harsh. So today I’m setting two intentions:

  1. Speak kindly to myself.

  2. Forgive myself easily.

How about you?

Stretching

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My creaky knees and hip surgery recovery convinced me that I have limitations and thus increased my fear of trying new things. But the opportunity to be featured at a writers’ event in Flagstaff drew me out, and I decided to give it a go. I discovered I can make a long drive, find my way to an event, set up, interact meaningfully with people, tear down, buy a couple of things at a favorite shop, and then (because I could not find the elevator to the parking garage!) carry a 20-pound bag down a flight of stairs to my car, followed by driving home.

Today I sense anxiety subsiding and other possibilities opening.

How have you stretched yourself lately?

Being

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Sometimes, in social situations, we play a role, behaving how we think a guest or host ought to be, according to some standard we learned along the way. I’m expecting guests for lunch. I just sent a text confirming the time and writing, “I look forward to BEING with you.” The word being jumped out at me. I realized that I want my focus to be not on what I do, but who I am with these dear friends. I shift my focus from food preparation to peace of mind and anticipation of meaningful conversation.

When you entertain, where is your focus?

Observing Nature

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I ate lunch recently at Up the Creek in Page Springs, AZ. My table was at a window overlooking Oak Creek, high above it. While I waited for my friends to arrive, I gazed at the scene. The water was so clear that I could see fish swimming. Then, dramatically, a great blue heron flew by, skimming the water. Close to my window, ruby red hummingbirds flitted in and out of the sunlight, flashing their brilliant red.

Suddenly, a male Western Tananger appeared on a branch close to the window where I was sitting, brilliantly yellow, even in the shade.

What is your experience of simply observing nature?

Constant Contact

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“Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our constant contact with God. . . “ is how Step 11 begins. Many years ago I learned that “constant” doesn’t mean “without ceasing.” The word for that is “continuous.” Rather, “constant contact” means awareness of presence to which I can reach out from time to time. These days, I reach out when I am overwhelmed with gratitude or when I need reassurance and guidance.

You write it: How do you treat God’s constant presence?

Neighboring

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In his opinion column for the New York Times, Thomas Friedman used the term “neighboring” to describe the Minnesotans whose kindness to each other is inspiring. Their neighboring took children to school, bought groceries, provided safe places to sleep, paid rent—and the list goes on.

A couple of years ago, when I fell and broke my hip, my neighbor arrived about the same time as EMT. She took my dog to care for him until I could make other arrangements. In the days and months following, she wheeled my trash cans up and down my long driveway. I didn’t ask her to do that; in the beginning, she anticipated my needs and then kept it up long after the need had passed—because she was neighboring.

I realize these two examples differ in magnitude. The first is high risk behavior on behalf of another one’s safety; the second, not. Nevertheless, the principle remains and begs the question, “To what extent are you there for others?”

You write it: Do you have someone who neighbors? Do you?

How are you?

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Friends are making major moves, leaving Sedona. My first reaction has been to resist. “No! You can’t do this!”

Then sadness took over—grief from anticipating the loss of their physical presence. I’ve spent days and days in sadness.

This morning, however, I awoke with the realization that, regardless of what others do, I am content, defined as “quiet happiness with the present moment.”

You write it: In the present moment, how are you?

Wondering

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My parents provided a safe home for me, where I was encouraged to be strong and independent. So when I hear stories about the Epstein survivors, I wonder why those girls didn’t just walk away from the abuse.

Then I learned that many victims of sex trafficking come from foster homes. I asked my friend Ash Almonte, whose charity Hopefully Sow benefits foster children, why that is.

Ash explained that because they have been abused and neglected, these girls crave attention and cannot distinguish appropriate from inappropriate.

Now I’m wondering, aside from contributing to Hopefully Sow, what I can do to help.

What are you wondering about?

Love and Compassion

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In these times, it has gradually become clear to me that I must emit more love and compassion. Why? Because it is a stronger, more attractive energy. “The greatest of these is love.” (1 Cor. 13:13)

My actions can be small: welcome a new neighbor, visit a recovering friend, send a note to someone whose actions I admire, leave a large tip, spread good words about businesses I like. Whatever it is, a small action performed in love can change the world. Will you join me?

Perspective

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I’m in the midst of a change that will make my life more enjoyable, shifting from harshly judging the worthiness of my activities to accepting, even savoring, solitude for the gift it is.

As I’m making this shift, I’m noticing who in my life gives me energy and who takes it away. I’m accepting that some people are energy depleters, and it’s okay to avoid them. I want to be in the presence of loving kindness, and that includes my own state of mind towards myself and others.

You write it: How do you manage your energy and that of others?

Idleness

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Somewhere along the way, I got the notion that being idle was bad—that if I was idle, I was useless. Maybe it came from my agrarian roots, my parents having been raised on farms and ranches where there was always something to do. My first career was teaching, with endless papers to grade and lessons to prepare, while raising two children.

I don’t live on a farm or ranch. I hire people to do what is needed for my home and yard. I no longer work to earn a living. My children are grown and thriving. So, sometimes, there’s nothing to do but relax, read a book, take a walk, or just sit and watch the scenery. Then the guilt nudges me.

The pull to action is still strong, long after the need for it has gone.

You write it: Is there a pattern from your past that is no longer useful?