Six Spiritual Lessons from Learning about Business

Winter has returned here. A windstorm that blew off roofs and blew in snow, and now the temperatures are in the teens, where they "should" be at this time of year, not the 40s.

My current crash course in business building is cross-pollinating beautifully with my focus on personal development. I've realized that my lifelong head-in-the-sand approach to finances, getting by solely due to extreme frugality coupled with some innate blind trust, is not just because I thought money was unimportant. There has been a certain amount of judgment of money as "unspiritual" as well as some scarcity mentality about not wanting to use up resources (who, me?) or not believing there's enough to go around. 
Time to let those go.

Wow, so part of my spiritual training right now is recognition that money, too, is spiritual. And the business training is spiritual training, too. I could go on and on, but here are six quick ones for Sunday night.

1. Abundance! You have to approach your business in the sincere awareness and consciousness of abundance. Acknowledge that there is plenty, there is enough for everyone, there is enough and plenty for you to have abundance. Yes! In spiritual development too, cultivating a sense of abundance is a consciousness-raiser.
2. To work well in business, it's essential to be in the present, aware. If you make a mistake, learn the lesson it encapsulates, and move on: now is the only time you can make a difference. In spiritual life too.
3. To build a good business, it's wise to have a daily practice that supports--and maintains--daily habits that focus your attention in the places needed. This is also important for self talk and change of personal habits.
4. When figuring out the focus of your business, it's wise to brainstorm before researching marketability--come up with ideas. And in the personal development sphere, spinning ideas is a great way to connect with a broader, one-mind reality. James Altucher talks about building an "idea muscle" as a way to access one's subconscious and become more creative and generally more productive.
5. Be your best for the greatest good. If you make your business as good as it can be, it will produce the most it can and satisfy its consumers to the greatest degree. If I am my best, I can do the most for the universe.
6. A business is part of an ecosystem, with consumers and suppliers and complex interactions on many levels. Acquire a sense of being part of a greater whole simultaneous with autonomy and personal accountability. And the same goes for my individual self. In both areas, there is a grace to the sense of being part of something greater than oneself, to being a channel, being of service.

Gratitude for spirit! I want to stay in that space. Perhaps my body can just run on pure spirit.

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On a different note, RIP Maxine Kumin, Pulitzer prizewinning poet, essayist, novelist, children's book writer--and back-to-the-lander. 
In her honor, here's a sonnet of hers that proves she had a wryly humorous appraisal of death:

Purgatory
And suppose the darlings get to Mantua, 
suppose they cheat the crypt, what next? Begin 
with him, unshaven. Though not, I grant you, a 
displeasing cockerel, there's egg yolk on his chin. 
His seedy robe's aflap, he's got the rheum. 
Poor dear, the cooking lard has smoked her eye. 
Another Montague is in the womb 
although the first babe's bottom's not yet dry. 
She scrolls a weekly letter to her Nurse 
who dares to send a smock through Balthasar, 
and once a month, his father posts a purse. 
News from Verona? Always news of war. 
Such sour years it takes to right this wrong! 
The fifth act runs unconscionably long. 

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much love.

Wisdom versus Adventure: How I Decided Not to go to AWP

Finally I get to write this blog post! Last Friday, both my computers developed problems. Yes, on the same day. You'd think having two computers would mean a backup plan. I spent hours trying to fix things myself and hours on the phone with Microsoft, and hours stuck with configuration failure reboots. Given the almost unique ability of computers to get the calmest person banging his/her head on the wall, I am so grateful for all this attention on wisdom and personal development audios of late. Some deep breathing and mindfulness practice helped get me through yet another configuration failure (and hence hours of lost work time) this evening.

Yes, returning to the breath, focusing on the breath, as a perpetually available meditation, is one commonality among all the different sources of advice.

It helped me more too, eventually. I mentioned agonizing over a decision and finding it extremely hard to settle one way or the other. I was hoping to go to the enormous AWP Writers' Convention in Seattle at the end of February. So enticing! Especially being enrolled in a low-residency MFA, with all my cohorts scattered all over the country, I have many beloved fellow travelers and mentors whom I only see once a year. Add to that the opportunity to meet many of my "writer crushes" and inspirations. Add to that a mind-bogglingly rich array of panels, talks, readings, for over twelve hours of each of the three days, so that at every session there are probably at least four you don't want to miss. An opportunity to learn so much, be so stimulated, in such a short space of time. Even the possibility of catching up with friends in the Seattle area who are not at the conference. I had free admission as a student in my program (although of course the flight down and hotel are far from free). How could I not go?

Well, on the other hand. Stability. My eternal frontier. Still settling after a two-month trip last fall. I've submitted my Critical Paper (yay! Early!) but still have a Creative Thesis to finish revising and make as good as possible for an MFA! Two new job projects both of which require an initial learning curve. Good habits under installation (instillation?)
And, as I confessed, I'm the smallest I've been in a very long time. I really think I'm doing okay, but I must admit I'm not brimming over with excess energy. If I have a 9-5 day in town I generally have to spend most of the next day on the couch. And that's a 9-5 day of mostly one-on-one interactions in a small town. AWP would be three consecutive twelve-plus-hour days around 11,000 writers!
My healthcare providers voted "don't go." As did friends.
I asked for a dream, and got a clear "don't go."
I asked explicitly in my soulful journaling practice, wherein I connect with my spirit guide /subconscious/angel/what you will. She said "don't go."

And yet, there I was searching for a flight, all ready to go!

And I agonized. Why did I ask for guidance if I wasn't willing to heed it? Was I asking for guidance in order to do the opposite? This went on for almost two weeks, hanging in the balance. I didn't want to abuse the guidance I'd been given. I didn't want to abuse the hospitality of my program by turning down the conference ticket. I didn't want to admit to being physically weak.

I think many of us are rebels, or are inexorably drawn to risk as opposed to wisdom. There must be an evolutionary balance there. It wouldn't be called "wisdom" if it weren't advantageous. On the other hand, if no one pushed out of their comfort zone, how would we ever evolve? On the other other hand, since my tendency is always to push beyond my comfort zone, my eventual decision not to go was actually an evolution beyond my status quo. 

With all my recent talk of paradox, this is the sublimest paradox of all, that taking a risk/pushing beyond the comfort zone would have been staying in my comfort zone, doing what I'd always done (Einstein's definition of insanity).

So, if I wish to, I can feel a sense of adventure as a result of having chosen not to go. Staying where I can continue to nurture these good new habits and practices, and not putting myself in an environment and schedule that would surely bury me, is adventure of a new kind; is evolution. 

This decision is also recognition of the magic that is receipt of guiding dreams and channeling of guidance from beyond in my journaling practice.

That sounds new and adventurous to me!

I'd love to hear others' learning stories like this. Thank you for letting me share. 

Edited to add: here's another really cool connection that came in the decision process; I can't believe I forgot to mention it. Someone made the point that to 90% of people, if you serve them a meal and tell them it's "healthy," they will immediately have an expectation of "yuck/joyless/unsatisfying." The point, in that context, was obviously that it's important to describe food in aesthetic terms that engage the senses alluringly--beautiful, vibrant, delicious, succulent. But the parallel with my difficulty in making what I knew was the right decision was striking. "This would be the wise thing to do." "Yuck boiled kale." Yes, I was being a brat.  But no more so than anyone who thinks healthy and delicious don't go together. There's more to be said on this; in fact, it's one of my biggest life lessons. We shall return to this.

Regularity in face of crazy weather; fasting

While the lower 48 is in the grip of the icy gods, it hit 50 degrees Fahrenheit here yesterday. This photo, taken today, could be from late May.

A couple of weeks ago, a little farther down the same road, a more typical scene.

I was talking about paradoxical pieces of advice for being best self/manifesting destiny/personal development. These two pictures of the same road exemplify a piece of advice on which all the gurus and advisers are unanimous, which seems to contain a paradox within itself:

Have a daily practice. How you start up your day sets the tone for how you move through the day, so be intentional about it.

and--here's the paradox--

The more consistent and stable you are with this practice, the more resilient you'll be when destabilization happens, for whatever reason, and you're prevented from practicing.

(I guess because by repeated practice, you've been diligently building the neural net, and that same net becomes a safety net that protects you from curveballs.)

This advice is sweet to me in several ways. First, because I've had experience of the benefits of a regular practice--the lived experience that life can feel more full of sparkle and opportunity when I live it with that level of intentionality. Second, because one of my favorite quotations from Rumi (Barks's translation, of course, I'm of that generation) says "Submit to a daily practice...Keep knocking, / and eventually the joy inside / will open a window / and look out to see who is there." I tend to think pieces of poetry stick for a reason. Then, because my doctor has been telling me for years now that such regularity is my best medicine against my own inherent instability. It's not that a bipolar person can't maintain a regular practice; it's that a bipolar person must work more diligently than most to maintain such a practice, which is one of her best protections against falling off the rails/the deep end/the face of the earth. Having a check-in first thing in the morning, and taking time to make a note of three or more things I'm grateful for before bed is feeling so good.

And so, when the vista looks like midsummer although it should be midwinter, tune into clues, like the absence of fireweed on the hillside...

...or the fact that the sun is nonetheless very far to the south in the sky...
And even though nature herself is one big curveball right now, stay in that winter, seed, potential energy space. 

I hope my own regularity of practice and prayer can be one small piece of stability to protect this local ecosystem, while bluff-edges become landslides, bugs and buds come out of dormancy, the ground thaws. I hold a piece of true north winter within me, watching that sky-southerly sun.

I've continued to fast twice a week. Twenty-four-hour fasts, dinner through dinner, so not a great long fast. I've been advised because of where my weight is that this isn't the best thing. I've come to agree that I probably shouldn't do it days that I have to drive, especially when the roads aren't good. But it is a form of practice of its own with much to commend it, and I haven't yet been able to convince myself to give it up. I guess one way to talk myself around might be to say that not-fasting is a form of regularity.

I'll make a few more posts about lessons I'm learning right now. And my next post will be about the big decision I was agonizing over and how I finally decided.
Meanwhile, I'll be getting up early for the Future of Nutrition Conference! It runs on East Coast time, 9am-9pm. 9am Eastern is 5am here!

In the Ears of the Hearer, In the Eyes of the Beholder; Five Paradoxes of Self Development; One Intention

Why do I see an elephant in the desert?

Work has been a little slow, although I have a lot of rusty German to brush up with a new translation project just revving into gear. Meanwhile, I've been swimming in an ocean of teleseminars/webinars/summits/start-the-year guidance. I've finished my critical paper for my MFA, and am revising the thesis and contemplating what it will mean to have that qualification. It's always been about the process, not the product; but part of being and becoming a writer is, of course, producing a body of work.
Which is why I'm writing a second blog post this week--I've been intending to go back up to two or three posts per week instead of one for some time now, and it's time to put my fingers where my intentions are.
According to one of the wise teachers I listened to this past week, an African proverb says

While you are praying, move your feet.

Set the intention, open your heart, believe in yourself, give your subconscious the experience that your desired outcome is already in existence, pray, ask the angels for help, pay attention to your dreams...

and act.

It's my belief that we see and hear what we believe in, and also that we see and hear exactly what we need to see and hear in order to shift our beliefs. (Otherwise, why would we see elephants in the desert?) If that's a paradox, here are four more from the wisdom I've been absorbing:

1.  Say "yes" to what the universe offers you   OR   You must know when to say "no" to what's offered
2. Talk about your intentions and recruit other people to broadcast them to the universe   OR   Don't talk about the intentions; don't give naysayers the chance to pull you back
3. Set many intentions for the year  OR  Set one or two intentions every month   OR  Set one or two intentions on your birthday   OR  Don't set intentions at all
4. Only you know what is true for you; tune in and listen to your inner voice   OR   If your best thinking isn't getting you where you wish, get some good help/hire a coach

I'm in transition right now. Coming to the end of my time in Alaska, but not yet knowing where to next, or when. Nearly finished with my MFA, with no six-figure book contract or tenure-track position in sight nor solicited. 

I'm also the smallest I've been in close to ten years, less than when I went away in 2012. I feel better than I did then, though, so I'm still musing over whether it's truly an issue in my current transition.

One intention I do want to put out there, though, is that I intend to produce more than I consume.

It isn't my plan to accomplish that merely through minimal food consumption! 

My intention is--more beauty, more joy, more sharing, more dreams, more giving, more receiving, more learning but more teaching too, more excellence, more love, more blog posts--MORE!

So there's a bonus paradox for you.

Watch out for another post soon in which I'll share some commonalities in all the different wisdom I've been absorbing. Oh, and check out the Future of Nutrition Conference, starting Monday January 27, in which I expect a plethora of paradoxes, since nutrition thinkers from all sides of the spectrum are going to be giving of their best--55 of them!

Love and Light in ears and eyes.

While you weren't looking

Meanwhile, it became spring. Water gushes out, flows over and bites into the stalactite bearding the pipe. Snow recedes into redoubts and enclaves. We scan for hidden ice, and keep hands free so we can use our arms as wind-braced counterweights.

The green dot at 10 in my tide table says we "spring forward" this coming Sunday! Despite the signs of spring, I'm as irritated as every year that the clocks go forward as early as they do, a full two weeks ahead of the planet's cycle. 

And in our special place, I haven't forgotten the blizzard mid-March three years ago, when the whole town came to a standstill, with three or four feet of snow dumped in 24 hours. This old post has a couple photos of an emblizzarded moose down near the bottom.

Puts me in mind, too, of how special a thing it is to live in a place where what the tides are doing is important information, where tide table booklets are handed out by local businesses. How amazing it is that they can publish the tides for a whole year ahead and have them be so accurate. When the very word "fluctuate" comes from the word for "wave," amazing that the big-picture ocean is that predictable. I almost wish there were tide tables for other things in life, but that much predictability wouldn't be so good.

As this inkling-spring comes, even with temperatures getting up to 40 degrees, the big picture is frozen earth and frozen lake.
In summer the float planes take off and land here. In winter, people drive, skate, ski, and hike.

 A stunning blue sky, but I spun around 180 degrees and took a photo facing the other way... 

That's a lot of lake. You can't always tell where the lake begins, and there are patches at the edge where tussocks of grass are holding the snow up  between them quite a way above the ground. Often that suspended snow is strong enough to hold me up, but sometimes I punch through. Sometimes even the dogs punch through. Since we're so close to the lake, it's quite alarming when that happens.
I learn to fluctuate myself, a little: 
-Best time to hike is low tide: most sand, so the dogs can really run. Best part of the day to hike, before lunch: otherwise I'd get nothing done all morning with antsy dog(s). Ideal time and tide coincide only part of the time. There are some beaches, and other places (like the lake) where the tide is less critical, so we go there if there's a big morning high tide. 
-I shed some of my aversion to following in tracks. It's a false pride, since as a moderately civilized human all I ever do is some form of following in tracks, but there is something delicious about the illusion of going au randonee. Those tracks in the photo above are snow machine tracks, and they were helpful for finding ways on and off the lake as well as other ways down to it than we had used. Following vehicle trucks on the beach in sloppy gravel can be the difference between moderately impeded walking and frankly stumbling along, one step forward, three steps back.

As water drains over the pipe's ice-beard, as ice continues to cap the lake, I wonder what form my own springing forward will take, and where I am going next. I'm hoping I can create my own path or be guided to it, because otherwise most likely I'll be treading in my same coil of tracks that take me to a seemingly blue-sky place with storm clouds at my back. 
My mom says it's time for me to stop being a vane blown with all winds; to have a base from which I can journey forth. I'm grateful for the advice, and I'm grateful in a way my awkwardness can't register for the stability and rootedness of my parents' home. But even before I left that home, I was a stranger and a sojourner in the land; no one could ever place me. Not even I.

As I type that, Jesus' words about the wind whose sound you can hear, but from whence it came and whither it goeth you cannot discern, come into my mind. And so it keeps happening when I'm trying to work on a poem or essay right now. I'm working with an image or sound, and here comes something out of the Bible, or out of ancient Greek or Latin literature. I bat them aside, fearing they'll take me "into my head." But they persist. These are my anchors, even now, living here, in a state where I might be the sole Classicist. Perhaps, vane blown with all winds, I am instead the wind itself. Perhaps these texts and canons are my base to which I can return. Perhaps, even if no one else can discern it, I-the-wind must come to know from whence I come and whither I go.

New starts and directions always involve some destruction or composting of the previous. "In the beginning" at the beginning of Genesis should actually be read "In A beginning"--that's what the Hebrew says. This is now recognized as if a theological equivalent to quantum physics theories: there are many possible universes, many possible beginnings, many modalities and conditions, many lives simultaneous and serial.
This old root wad of a dead spruce tree has given life to several new trees.

Meanwhile, another beginning.