Breathing Under Water, a Poem by Carol Bieleck

I built my house by the sea.

Not on the sands, mind you; not on the shifting sand.

And I built it of rock.

A strong house

by a strong sea.

And we got well acquainted, the sea and I.

Good neighbors.

Not that we spoke much.

We met in silences.

Respectful, keeping our distance,

but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand.

Always, the fence of sand our barrier,

always, the sand between.

And then one day,

--and I still don't know how it happened--

the sea came.

Without warning.

Without welcome, even

Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand

like wine,

less like the flow of water than the flow of blood.

Slow, but flowing like an open wound.

And I thought of flight and I thought of drowning and I thought of death.

And while I thought the sea crept higher, till it reached my door.

And I knew then, there was neither flight, nor death, nor drowning.

That when the sea comes calling you stop being neighbors

Well acquainted, friendly-at-a-distance, neighbors

And you give your house for a coral castle,

And you learn to breathe underwater.

This profound poem provides the title for Richard Rohr's book about spirituality and the Twelve Steps. Each time I read it, I find a more profound meaning. What does this poem say to you?

Peace

On this soft summer morning

The distant hum of mowers--

Sun sifting through mesquites.

A white dog licks her paws.

I celebrate peace.

You write it:  What gives you peace?

Speak the Truth in Love

Three times recently I have witnessed the power of truth spoken in love. When people speak from their hearts, saying only what truly needs to be said, energy shifts. Witnesses relax into safety. Everyone in the space feels free to be who they truly are.

Years ago I developed a tool for learning to speak the truth in love. Called "The Eye of the Needle," when people use it, things change.

You write it:  When have you experienced someone--or yourself--speaking the truth in love?

Breath

Islands disappear--reappear.

Tides come in and go out.

Neighbors move.

Children grow, leave, and

Return--maybe--to visit.

Friends die.

Breath moves through all of it.

Inhaling--exhaling--

Inhaling--exhaling--

You write it:  What sustains you through change?

Under a Rainbow

I fell asleep under a rainbow.

After the rain and darkness,

The setting sun broke through the clouds,

Showering the hills with soft light.

Above the hills, on the dark gray clouds,

A rainbow appeared, stayed, floated against the clouds.

I fell asleep under that rainbow

And awakened with the dawn of a new day.

You write it:  Author and Franciscan Priest Richard Rohr says, "The entire visible universe is manifestation of God." When have you experienced this truth?

Grace and Mercy

Last Sunday my husband and I served as ushers for our small church. One of the duties is to light the altar candles at the beginning of the service and extinguish them at the end.

Later that evening, as I lay in bed awaiting sleep, I sat up with a jolt, realizing I had not extinguished the candles! Panic overcame me as I visualized the church in flames, and I felt a strong urge to drive there--alone--in the dark--in rain and lightning.

Then I took some deep breaths, started journaling, and asked God to do for me what I couldn't do. As my mind calmed, I considered possibilities. The candles are on tall brass candlesticks on a stone altar--not likely to ignite anything. Then I realized that whoever cleared the communion paraphernalia from the altar would have seen the candles still burning and extinguished them. 

I gave thanks to be part of a church where people see what needs to be done and simply do it, regardless of whose responsibility it is. Grace. And mercy.

I slept peacefully and drove to the church first thing next morning. The candles were not lit.

You write it:  When did someone show grace and mercy to you?

You Be You, and I'll Be Me

My daughter recently bought a tee shirt with the words, "You be you, and I'll be me,"  which truly reflects her outlook on life and her relationships with other people. 

Much of our distress is caused from disappointment when other people don't do--or think--or behave the way we want them to do--or--think--or behave. 

Much emotional pain is relieved when we simply ask, "Am I being the person I want to be?" and leave the rest to answer that question for themselves.

You write it:  Are you being the person you want to be?

Live in Your Heart's Desire

In Man's Search for Meaning, Victor Frankl wrote that the ultimate freedom is to choose one's own state of mind. Regardless of our circumstances--and his were severe--we can choose happiness, contentment, even joy.

Yet so many people are stuck to what is happening around them--in politics, in the work place, in family dynamics, allowing circumstances beyond their control to trigger emotional responses that they don't want.

I learn and teach tools for living in peace. My heart's desire is to set myself and others free.

You write it:  What is your heart's desire?

Hidden in Plain View

Something makes me think that what I seek is difficult to find--that I must exert great effort to be fulfilled--that what I want is outside of me.

Lately I've had a notion that I should be doing more. My mind has been restlessly searching for some pinnacle out there.

Then, in a phone call, a coaching client said, "You should write a book. I write down what you say and keep it." I realized that, once I say the words and they have been received, my creation is complete. I don't need to write a book; I just want more clients.

The answer to my seeking was hidden in plain view.

You write it:  What do you seek?

Acceptance

"Water freezes at 32 degrees Fahrenheit, and there's nothing I can to about it."

My friend was talking about acceptance. It's easy to accept natural laws; we have no choice. Then why do we struggle to change the behavioral set point of others? We think they should be different. We know they could choose better behavior. We're angry or disappointed when they don't behave as we would like.

Just for today, grant us the peace of acceptance.

Let's Play

After a long day of driving, my husband and I went to dinner at a pub with lots of games. We chose table shuffleboard, which I won. On our way back to the hotel, we passed a miniature golf course, made a u-turn, and played 18 holes. 

It lifted our spirits to play.

You write it:  When was the last time you played?

Gratitude

Every day someone dies 

So Muslim women may ride a bus safely,

So people can say what they truly feel,

So concert-goers may enjoy without fear,

So I may relax in my home with peacefully sleeping dogs.

I give thanks for the virtuous warriors.

You write it:  For what do you give thanks?

Keeping the Peace

I take no medication except during allergy season, so when my new doctor suggested I take a prescription to boost my thyroid function, I resisted. I'm not in the range where the medication is recommended; I'm just close, so taking it was optional.

After a couple of conversations with her, I agreed to give it a try. My experiment lasted three days. On the third day I felt irritable and didn't get my usual good night's sleep.

I'm simply not willing to put something in my system that disturbs my peace.

This morning I realize that I want this decision to extend to my negative thoughts and judgments. I choose not to allow what other people say and do to come into my system.

I hope someday to have the peace and grace to allow negativity to simply flow around, not through, me. 

You write it:  What do you do when someone or something threatens to disturb your peace?

What Brings Me Peace

Quiet--Sun dappling through green leaves

Soft rain--Flowers simply blooming

You write it:  What brings you peace?

Reconstruction

On this beautiful spring day,

Two dear people with broken bones

Begin their recovery from the crash.

The road that leads to our home

Lies bare, awaiting a new surface.

RECONSTRUCTION.

You write it:  What in your life is being reconstructed?

Rewrite the Script

We learn behaviors from a very young age. Sometimes we learn them from other people; sometimes we simply write the scripts ourselves. Sometimes those scripts don't serve us very well. Then it's time to rewrite.

Just a few minutes ago, for example, my husband wanted to show me some photographs. I had my mind on what I needed to be doing, including writing this blog. I noticed the tension in my body as I found it difficult to simply sit and listen to what he had to say.

A friend I talked with today has been given a trip to Istanbul. She has an old script that says she isn't worthy of such a generous gift. She was having a hard time enjoying the possibilities. She wants to rewrite her script.

Another friend I spoke with today has been overwhelmed by a recent move. This person has recently rewritten her life script so that she was resting and taking time for herself--until this move. Temporarily, her old script that says she can't take time for herself when there's much to do, took over.

When we know it's time for change, what do we write into new scripts? Take time to breathe, to meditate; do one thing you love every day; write or say one thing you're grateful for. These simple acts shift energy and begin to guide the writing of a new script.

You write it:  What old script is it time for you to change? What will you do differently?

Windshield Wipers

Recently I streamed a spiritual conference in which one of the presenters, Cynthia Bourgeault, used this analogy:  If during contemplation or meditation, your mind won't stop chattering, imagine a pair of windshield wipers that clear your it. And if, once your mind is clear, the chatter comes back, imagine that you've set the wipers on "intermittent" and see them clear the space again.

Since I heard this powerful analogy, I've used it not just for meditation but for all the negative, critical, or discouraging thoughts that sometimes lodge in my mind. Windshield wipers. It works.

You write it:  What do you do when mental chatter gets in the way of your peace of mind?

What We Need Is Provided

Several years ago my husband and I went to Cyprus. It was an amazing trip, full of discoveries and surprises. One of those surprises was no washcloths in the hotel bathroom. Towels, yes. Washcloths, no.

The first day we walked along the sea, with shops and restaurants and street vendors, one of whom was selling sponges harvested from the Mediterranean. Of course, I bought one to serve as a washcloth! Ever since, that sponge has rested on the corner of my bathtub. I haven't used it since Cyprus. (I have washcloths.)

Last week, noticing how dry the sponge was, I threw it away with the realization that I what I need continues to be provided. I just don't need a sponge any more.

You write it: Are you clinging to some solution that worked in the past but is no longer needed? 

Helpers Come

I used to believe that I had to do everything all by myself, making life more stressful than it truly is. I could not accept aid or comfort. 

Along the way, I changed. I came to realize that I just couldn't go it alone any more, and I started accepting help. I changed a lifelong pattern.

Last week our precious dog Teddy had surgery for a torn ACL, and when I saw his condition after surgery, I was heartbroken and anxious. In the night, as I held him close to comfort him, he lifted his paw for me to rub his tummy--the first sign that the Teddy I love was still there. I started to breathe.

Early the next morning, texts of encouragement started to ping my phone, the first one from a friend who didn't even know what I was going through.

When we decide to change, the field of our existence shifts. Helpers come.

You write it:  When have helpers come for you? What help would you like right now?

What Counts?

I no longer earn a salary and define my worth through professional accomplishments. So what counts? 

Lately I've felt as though I'm just aimlessly drifting. Then I had a conversation with my dear cousin. I asked, "What do you do with your time?" She said, "Oh, I'm so busy! I walk 5 miles a day. I take care of my home, and there's always lots to do. Yesterday I planted flowers in the front bed."

To myself I thought, "That counts?!" Then I realized, "Yes. That counts."

If I'm kind and affirming to my husband, that counts. If I clean the outdoor grill, that counts. If I have a heart-to-heart talk with a friend, that counts. If I text my children to have a good day, that counts. Starting today, I will count living well as worthy, fulfilling accomplishment.

You write it:  How do you define your worth?