Are You Paying Attention?

As a child, I had a habit of daydreaming in school, as I was often bored and my mind would wander.  I grew accustomed to my teacher walking over toward my desk and asking what I'm sure he or she meant as a rhetorical question, “Are you paying attention?”  I would always answer affirmatively, in part because once the question was asked I was indeed now paying attention to what the teacher was saying.  As I got older, I realized that in fact, I was  always paying attention--maybe not to what was being taught at the moment, but I was certainly paying attention to something-- my friends, the clock as it got closer to recess, or to the creation of plans for play after school.The fact is that you and I are always paying attention.  The question is not if we are paying attention, but what are we paying attention to?  We have a saying that runs through all of our Living Compass Faith & Wellness programs, one that stresses the importance of paying attention: “Whatever we pay attention to is what will grow.” My wife Holly, and I recently recorded a new episode of our podcast “Living Compass for Families” that is based on becoming more aware of what we pay attention to (see below for the link to it) and so the saying, “Whatever we pay attention to is what will grow” has been on my mind a lot.  You might say I have been paying attention to this saying and therefore its importance has been growing for me. For those of us who are in the midst of observing the season of Lent, this is a time to focus our attention on what matters most in our lives.  This year for Lent I have been paying attention to my spiritual, emotional, and physical wellness.  Daily scripture readings, along with a daily practice of writing or speaking of things for which I am grateful has helped me pay attention to my spiritual and emotional wellness.  Abstaining from eating wheat for the season of Lent, has been my way of focusing on my physical wellness and I am enjoying feeling better physically.  Each of these experiences have reminded me, once again, that whatever I pay attention to is what will grow.  Lenten disciplines, while probably not often thought of in this way, often have the effect of enhancing some area of wellness in our lives. The essential question for each of us is not, “Are you paying attention?”  The essential question is, “What are you paying attention to?”  If our attention is being paid to what annoys us in life, then that annoyance will grow.  If our attention is being paid to our worries then they will most likely grow as well.  If our attention is paid to what we cherish most about a friend or loved one, then that feeling will grow.  If our attention is paid to our relationship with God, or caring for our bodies, or taking time to be playful, then each of those things will grow as well.  If, on the other hand, our attention is so scattered and divided that nothing is getting quality attention, then it should not come as a surprise if there is not much that is growing in our lives.

So what do you want to see grow in your life?  In others words, what do you want to pay more attention to?  Your work?  Your relationships with family and friends?  Your spiritual life?  Your physical wellness?  Whether you are observing Lent, or not, there is not time like the present to discover that what you pay attention to is what will grow.

 Next week I will be paying attention to my need for rest and relaxation as I take a week's vacation.  This column will return in two weeks.   

Hope Springs Eternal, Even When Our Brackets Break

Yesterday was the first day of Spring and for many parts of the country it was a day filled more with hope than the actual experience of Spring.  As I witnessed two people playing golf yesterday on a course still partially covered in snow I thought of the famous words of an English poet, Alexander Pope, which were penned in 1733, “Hope springs eternal in the human breast.” Pope goes on to express so well the hope for the warmer weather that is sure to come for these golfers and others who are patiently waiting, “The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home, rests and expatiates in a life to come.” We can also see hope springing eternal in the world of college basketball this week as this week also marked the beginning of the NCAA Men's College Basketball Tournament.  This annual “March Madness” experience is one where sixty-eight college basketball teams are chosen to compete over a three week period of time to see which team can win six consecutive games to emerge as the national champion for the year.  Hope springs eternal for each of the sixty-eight teams, as well as for the millions of fans who have made their predictions of which teams will win each of the sixty-seven games being played over the next three weeks.  Millions of fans in pools with family, friends, and office workers around the country have “filled out their brackets,” meaning they have predicted who they are hoping will win each of the upcoming games.

The odds of filling out a perfect bracket, one in which a person accurately predicts the winner of all 67 games are, 9.2 quintillion to one.  To give you an idea of how big that number is, think 9.2 billion multiplied by one billion .  Talk about hope springing eternal!  Anyone who participates in this annual rite of prognostication, as I always do, knows the sorrow that quickly comes to pass when one's bracket is broken when unexpected outcomes and upsets come to pass.  These unexpected outcomes are officially known as “bracket busters” and if one has too many of these too soon in the tournament then it quickly becomes clear that one's hope will have to spring eternal for better luck in picking the winners of next year's tournament.

Sports mirrors life in so many ways.  In this case, the sheer improbability of predicting a perfect tournament bracket mirrors the sheer improbability of any of us predicting how our lives will unfold.  We regularly enter into new relationships, new jobs, and new adventures of all sorts based on how we think things will unfold.  We make our best predictions, fill out our brackets, and then hope for the best.  Inevitably, though, our brackets--our hopes--will get broken and we will have to pick up the pieces and try again. Sixty-seven of the sixty-eight teams in this year's college basketball tournament will go home having lost their last game of the season.  Does that fact prevent any of them from showing up and playing with all their hearts?  Of course not, because the combination of their love of the game and the fact that hope springs eternal means that they will give it their all, no matter what the outcome may be.  Their efforts inspire me to live my life the same way.  I simply need to keep showing up every day because I love life itself, and because I have great hope that even though my bracket will surely get broken at times, in the end it is the playing of the game, the living and loving of life itself, that is its own reward.

Mud Season

I attended a wonderful training workshop this past week that focused on helping people and organizations move through times of transition and change.  Dr. Kay Collier McLaughlin, a psychotherapist, author, and leadership/organizational consultant, was our presenter and drew heavily on her many years of experience in both fields.  What struck me most about this excellent presentation was her observation that the biggest mistake people and organizations make when working through significant change is that they don't make enough room to honor the emotions of loss, sadness, grief, and fear that almost always accompany change.  Someone in our group observed that we don't like to make room for these kinds of emotions because they can be so “messy” and for the most part we don't like things that are messy or unpleasant. Here in the Midwest we know something about messy this time of year.  As the long winter begins to lose its grip and the mounds of snow begin to melt, our roads, sidewalks, trails, and yards become quite messy and even ugly.  In fact, I have heard it said here in the Midwest, as well as many other places in the country, that there are actually five seasons each year if you add the “mud season” that exists between winter and spring.

Part of what creates the massive amount of mud and messiness this time of year is the fact that after a long, cold winter the depth of the ground freeze is quite significant.  During the mud season, while the warming temperatures thaw the surface of the ground, the deeper ground remains frozen and thus the melting water at the surface is unable to percolate down into the soil.  Until the deeper ground thaws the water stays on the surface creating increasingly deeper levels of mud and mess.   Many dirt roads and walking trails actually become impassable during this time of year until the deeper thaw finally occurs, allowing the water to seep down into the soil and then to flow on into the greater watershed.

The mud season, itself a time of transition between winter and spring, strikes me as a powerful metaphor for describing what it feels like when we are going through times of transition in our lives, whether as individuals, families, or organizations.  Times of transition are almost always at least a little messy, and the path forward can sometimes become muddy and hard to travel.  If there is significant grief or loss involved in our transition, the initial thawing can feel particularly muddy and difficult.

Whatever kind of mud season we may be experiencing, the way through is the same.  Be patient. Put you boots on and your head up. Be careful to watch where you are walking, so that you avoid any potential danger. Walk with someone else so you can help each other when the mud is deep and you are in danger of getting stuck. Be patient, knowing that in time the ground will eventually thaw and the mess and the mud will gradually pass.  The path may not ever be the same, but a new path forward is certain to emerge.

Letting Go for Lent

I don't know how many times I said to myself when our children were growing up, "I wish I could freeze this moment, or this stage of life, and just hold on to it for a little longer." This desire is not exclusive to parenting. Any time we are in the middle of a wonderful experience whether it be a meal with friends, a special trip, a retreat, or a beautiful experience in nature it is natural to want to freeze time and hold on to the experience as it it too precious to let it go. We have all learned by now that it is, of course, impossible to hold on to people, time, or experiences, and yet, the longing remains. Letting go, emotionally and spiritually, is hard work, and yet we have plenty of opportunities to practice as we seek to let go of the past and to not become overly attached to the present. If we need a reminder of how futile it is to hold on and freeze time, all we need do is simply look in the mirror, or look at a photograph of ourselves from a few years ago. It is impossible not to notice that we have changed. This week, for those who observed the celebration of Ash Wednesday, there was an additional reminder of the transitory nature of this life we live together. On Ash Wednesday, a sign of the cross is made with ashes on each person's forehead, accompanied by these words, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." Thus we are reminded that our physical lives are temporary and all the opportunities we currently have to practice letting go are but a prelude to the ultimate act of letting go, of that time when one day our physical bodies will indeed return to dust.

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the Christian celebration of Lent, a season of 40 days that concludes with the celebration of Easter. There is a long tradition of people giving something up for Lent. More recently there has been a focus on 'taking something on' for Lent, such as taking on some kind of practice that will strengthen one's spiritual, emotional, or physical well-being. If you are a person who observes Lent and finds that giving something up or taking something on works well for you, then you have probably already made a decision to do one of these things. I would be delighted to hear from as to what you are either giving up or taking on this year as I am always curious to learn about the creative ways that people find to observe Lent.

Now if you are looking for another way to observe Lent besides giving something up or taking something on, I highly recommend a third approach, and that is to focus on the discipline of "letting go for Lent." Letting go for Lent can take many forms. It can mean letting go of a need to control a situation or a person and instead being open to and being curious about other ways of doing things. Letting go for Lent can also mean letting go of our need to be right, which might include letting go of resentment or long held grudges.

Letting go for Lent can also mean letting go of both the busyness and hurriedness that can gradually control our lives, slowly crowding out any time to re-create and renew ourselves. Letting go for Lent can also mean letting go of possessions which can clutter our lives.

Finally, letting go for Lent can mean fully embracing the passing of time in our lives, letting go of the desire to freeze a period of time or hold on to what was or is. As wonderful as the past may have been, the ability to let it go frees us to open our hearts and souls to the wonder of this present moment in our lives, even on the occasion when it might not be what we expected or wanted. Learning to live fully into the present moment means to affirm the fact that there is much to be grateful for in every moment, in every stage of life.

The title of our Living Compass daily meditation booklet for Lent is "Renew a Right Spirit Within Me" because that is the goal of any Lenten practice. So whether you choose to give something up, take something on, or practice letting go for Lent, may these next 40 days be a time of renewal for you.

Everything Is A Present

Alice Sommer Herz won my heart a little over five years ago when she was 105 years old.    Someone sent me a short video interview of Alice and I remember being moved to tears by her exceptional story and spirit.  Alice died this week at the age of 110.  At the time of her death she was the oldest living Holocaust survivor, which is remarkable in and of itself.  She is, however, best remembered for her contagious, positive spirit, which is all the more noteworthy once one comes to learn her story. Alice survived the Holocaust at the Theresienstadt concentration camp, located in what is now the Czech Republic.  Tens of thousands of Jews died there, some killed outright and others dying from malnutrition and disease.  More than 150,000 people, including countless children, were held her for months or years before being sent to their deaths.  Alice and her young son were spared simply because she was a concert pianist.  The Nazi's used her, and other Jewish artists, to perform as part of a propaganda campaign to try and fool the world in to thinking that they were treating the Jews with respect.  Her mother and husband were not so fortunate and both died at the hands of the Nazis.

In her own words, Alice described life at the Theresienstadt concentration camp:

“We had to play because the Red Cross came three times a year. The Germans wanted to show its representatives that the situation of the Jews in Theresienstadt was good. Whenever I knew that I had a concert, I was happy. Music is magic. We performed in the council hall before an audience of 150 old, hopeless, sick and hungry people. They lived for the music. It was like food to them. If they hadn't come [to hear us], they would have died long before. As we would have.”

To have survived life in a concentration camp, to have suffered the deaths of her loved ones and countless other friends, and live to be 110 would be a fantastic enough story.  But it's not just that she survived all these tragedies that makes Alice so memorable and admirable.  The fact that her spirit found a way to thrive even after having experienced what would understandably leave many people angry, bitter, and hopeless makes her life uniquely inspiring.

Alice's story is best told by Alice herself.  Trying to capture her spirit with this written text is like, to use an analogy she would have appreciated, trying to capture the essence of Bach concerto with words.  Her story, like the music she played, is a gift for the soul.  And so I share this video of Alice with you, and pray that her spirit may be as much a gift for your soul as it has been for mine and to all who knew her.

Rest in peace sweet Alice.  Thank you embodying the resiliency of the human spirit and for showing us that, in your own words, that, “"Life is beautiful, love is beautiful, nature and music are beautiful. Everything is a present."

You can watch the video of Alice here:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5VTkQKgxkY