Yesterday I spent some time with my good friend Isabel.  Isabel and I have taken classes together, and she is a very gifted healer.  During our conversation, Isabel told me that she kept on getting the message that I needed to focus on humility and compassion.  At first I was stunned, unsettled, and a little insulted.  Me?  My life’s work is all about compassion!  And I take pride in my humility, I’ve worked on both of those qualities for such a long time!

Then I smiled.  I take pride in my humility.  I don’t know if there has been a sillier sentence uttered.   I started to chastise myself for thinking that with that voice in my head that is so experienced in criticizing me.  Then I stopped and smiled again.  Compassion begins at home, in one’s own heart, for oneself.  Am I humble?  Yes.  Am I compassionate?  Yes.  Have I mastered either one of these as spiritual practices?  No.  Do I need to reprimand and judge myself for this?  No.  So I gave myself an inner hug and decided to look into humility as mindful spiritual practice, and not just as a random action or thought.

My own definition of humility had been more closely related to modesty.  I try my best not to toot my own horn.  I am in awe enough of the work that I do that I know that it is not of my doing.  I fully understand that I am a channel for Spirit, and my search for spiritual truth is so I can do my work as a clearer channel.  So what was I missing?

I spent many years not loving myself and thinking others were better than me.  And during that time I would also sometimes think I was better than others.  I just can’t believe that putting myself back on that merry-go-round of judgment has anything to do with spiritual humility, though many sources I looked at said to lower myself, and one even said to look at people I think are better than me so that I wouldn’t think so much of myself.  Humility as shame.  That didn’t feel right. So I just took the idea of humility and pulled it down in my heart to rest for awhile, knowing I would revisit it later.

And then today I had a reflexology appointment with Bob.  Bob has been a client for a long time, and I love him dearly.  Bob is an eighty one year old diabetic, and the last few times I had seen him his health had declined and he was very confused.  I called him a couple times, more out of obligation and with a heavy heart, and he had enjoyed talking with me, but hadn’t wanted an appointment.  And quite honestly, I had been relieved.

I’d been out of touch with Bob for a couple of months now, and I could give you several plausible reasons why, but the truth is it was avoidance, plain and simple.  He called me on Wednesday and left a message.  His feet hurt.  He missed me.  Could I come over soon?

It was good to hear him sounding lucid, but I still wasn’t thrilled.  The last time I saw him his feet were a mess – I will spare the details.  Suffice it to say it was a difficult appointment, and I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him.  But I called him back and made an appointment for today, after the farmer’s market, and I asked Thomas to come along for moral support.  He agreed, thinking that he may not have many opportunities to see Bob again.

All morning I was thinking about humility and Bob’s appointment.  The irony wasn’t lost on me – if Jesus could wash the feet of his disciples, I could certainly give Bob reflexology.  Maybe Bob’s appointment  would clarify this whole idea of spiritual humility for me.

When I saw Bob I was relieved.  He has a great full-time caregiver and he looked good.  He was lucid and thrilled that Thomas had come along.  The only thing that saddened me was that he was in a wheelchair.  He had lost his balance several times and it was just too dangerous for him to walk.  When Bob’s caregiver had him settled in bed for his treatment, I was grateful to see Bob’s feet looked good.  They were washed and healthy and his toenails were clipped and clean.  Bob told me that he was starting therapy next week to start walking again so he was glad that I could see him today.

So I set to work.  His ankles and feet were very stiff.  We talked and caught up and he let out a belly laugh that delighted me.  My heart sang with love. I was so happy that I could make him feel better and enjoy our wonderful friendship again.

I thought of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples.  I had always thought of him lowering himself to do this, thinking how filthy and disgusting all those sandaled feet must have been, of Jesus suffering through this to show the meaning of humility, and that humility wasn’t pretty.  But now I think that Jesus could have found that feet washing a joyful time, a spiritual connection in a very earthly experience.

Aha!  I liked that.  Humility as a spiritual connection in a very earthly experience.  Spiritual connection has nothing to do with higher than or lower than; spiritual connection is about love and joy and service.  Humility is the understanding that on the most basic level we are connected by Love and Spirit.  That each and every one of us has that Love and Spirit in us, no matter how or even if it is expressed. Humility as spiritual practice is constantly keeping this understanding in mind, no matter if we like or dislike another’s clothes, lifestyle, or politics, and honoring that person because of this truth.  Humbling indeed, but joyous and loving as well.

My father transitioned two years ago today.  I miss his enthusiasm, his support, his adoration of his family.  Experiencing the transition, the full power of this most human experience, was transformational for me.  This is a blog I wrote a couple months after his death.  Love you, Dad!

Release

All the expansiveness I’ve been experiencing the last few weeks left me feeling a little overwhelmed the past couple of days.  I’ve been  grumpy and tired and scattered.  The little and not so little miracles I’ve been encountering  daily had enticed me to be even more present in my higher consciousness,  soaking up new guidance, new ideas, and new understandings like a sponge, until I felt like I was positively floating with all this heavenly  and wonderful stuff.

Not that this is a bad thing,  but my chronic lack of patience and my old habit of propelling myself into a new project until I collapse just wasn’t serving me well this time. When I was in grad school, there was always a deadline for me to strive for, and I’d work toward it single-mindedly, and when I reached it victoriously,  I would crash and burn.  Not healthy, but do-able, especially when I was younger.  Yesterday, however,  I realized that there is no finish line to the expansion of my spirituality, and  pursuing it single-mindedly at the expense of a full and loving human life is the job of yogis and saints, not me.  It was time to practice what I teach and unite higher consciousness with heart and head and aim again for balance.

I went over by the lake and journaled.  I realized that my being in higher consciousness without engaging my head and heart was like trying to keep a lid on a boiling teapot.  I had all kinds of emotions that were trying to be sorted through that I had been ignoring  in my spiritual quest.  I realized I was still processing my father’s death, and thoughts and experiences surrounding him and my family for the past forty years or so had re-emerged and cluttered my whole being.  I started to go through them, one by one.  I missed the touch of his hand, and his unflagging support of me and my business.  I  recalled experiences with his selfishness and his stubbornness and  his deep, deep love and joy in his family, music, the world.  His narrow-mindedness and his pride.  I went through my whole experience with him being human, and all the emotions that entailed.

I realized that I had the power and opportunity to choose how I could keep my father’s spirit with me.  I could envision him angry and weak or I could envision him strong and happy.  I smiled at the change and growth he made during his life, and how the last ten years were certainly his happiest.  So I stopped ruminating and let go of every hurt and doubt and pain I had felt in that relationship and in his death.  I gathered all of it in my heart, surrounded it with love and blessed it for the lessons it had taught me.  I released the pain and hurt, and felt my heart and head clear immediately.  I felt the flow again that connects my head and heart with my higher consciousness, and I instantly integrated all these  miracles I had been experiencing into the me that I am now.  I understood that impatient single-mindedness no longer serves me at all because I know  that all is in Divine Order and Divine Time, and that’s where true spiritual expansion lies.

I’m seeing my Dad now as he was whenever I arrived in Florida for a visit.  We would go outside and he would show me how his plants and trees had grown and any interesting objects he’d found.  We’d take a walk down the street to see the burrowing owls, and he’d point out any changes in the neighborhood he’d noticed since my last trip.  We’d have great discussions on whatever he’d been pondering since our last conversation.  His delight in the here and now of nature and life and me was palpable then.  And so that’s his spirit that now resides in my heart, a continuous reminder of the beauty and grace of the human experience.  I’ll call on that spirit whenever  I need to be reminded of presence and balance and release.

Thanks again, Dad.

I’ve noticed that the word “trying” has come up a lot lately, both in my own mind and in conversation with friends and clients. Due to both my former life as a linguist and my present attention to awareness, when a word speaks to me like that, I know it’s an invitation to look at it a little deeper. So here I’m going to take some time and ponder a little on “trying.” And I’ll try my best not to ruminate to the point of annoyance like Andy Rooney…

In one sense of the word, this week has been trying indeed.  A glitch in selling at the Evanston Farmer’s Market, a delayed check for the soup business and a couple of appointment cancellations next week knocked me off my happiness perch from last week and sent me plummeting down the dismal hill towards despair.  I knew in my heart that this was a complete and total over-reaction, but I couldn’t stop the roll, no matter how hard I tried. I was miserable – feeling heavy with worry during the day and waking from nightmares of fear and lack several times a night.  It was ugly and more than a little uncomfortable.

Instead of my prayer and meditation being a pleasant time of rest and communion with Spirit, it became a time of anxious searching and begging for answers.  And all I ended up with was a quiet so still I heard the whisper of tumbleweeds.  I turned to friends and mentors, who all lent a compassionate ear and offered sound advice, but none of it could break through that wall of terror.

This lasted for three long days and nights.  The fourth morning, I woke up and sat exhausted in meditation.  This time there was no beseeching, no begging, just sitting.  And after a while I heard a voice as clear as a bell.  And it said, simply, “Stop Trying.”  Huh.  Nor exactly the guidance I was expecting, but it came so clearly I knew I had to do it.  So I did.

That day I stopped trying to fix things.  I decided to take positive action and just do what I knew I could finish.  I wrote the first draft of a newsletter.  I outlined changes I wanted to make to the website. I made a sign and ordered more business cards for my shared city office.  I cleared my schedule to attend a networking event next week.  I ordered ingredients and did a little bookkeeping.  I did laundry.  I did all of these things with gratitude and love and my full attention.  When the worry over next week or the following week tried to start up again, I quickly shut it down.  I wasn’t trying anymore.  I was either being or doing.

I found that being and doing were much more productive and calming  than trying.  When I was doing I completed an action.  I wasn’t trying to write a newsletter.  I wrote a first draft.  I wasn’t trying to figure out how to update the website, I outlined the changes.  I finished the laundry.  Accomplishments, all of them.  No underlying disappointment or agitation born from incompletion that comes from the word trying – I’m trying to write a newsletter, I’m trying to update the website, I’m trying to figure out how to get some clients next week…  There’s an implicit expectation of franticness and failure in the word trying.  I found doing a small action gave me a feeling of accomplishment and encouragement that naturally led to the next step.  And each step led to the final completion of the larger project.

Doing gave me the freedom of being.  When I completed a project I allowed myself to relax and have fun.  I snuggled on the couch with Thomas and enjoyed a TV show without multitasking on the computer.  My meditation and prayer time returned to its original sweetness, with joyful little gifts of inspiration popping up from time to time.

And the problems that sent me tumbling down the hill to begin with?  The farmer’s market glitch has been resolved.  The check is on its way, though still delayed.  I’ve made one new appointment next week, and look forward to a couple more presenting themselves.  If they don’t, I will remind myself that all is in Divine Order and Divine Time, and I will fill that time doing or being, but definitely not trying.

So I’m perched back on top of the happiness hill, calmly looking towards the bright future.  I am so done with rolling down the hill of frantic despair and trying to work my way back up.  I’ll just do what needs to be done to stay up here.  And then just be and relax in the beauty of it all.  And so it is.

This week has been one of the busiest I’ve had in a long time, with appointments beginning early in the morning and ending late in the day plus a soup tasting here and there.  The one evening I was free I developed the recipes for three more products I’ve had in my mind – a Caribbean white bean soup, red beans and rice, and black beans and rice.  I’m on the train now bright and early to The Farm to record our next show, and tomorrow, Saturday, includes the Evanston farmer’s market bright and early again, and then a late afternoon of more appointments.  And all of this busyness has me feeling really, really happy.

One of my latest spiritual practices has been to focus on the happy, and let go of the feelings of obligation.  By doing this I am able to release the idea of part of my day being work, another part being chore-doing, another part being spiritual practice, etc.  When I take labels off my day I release the judgment of fun and relaxing vs. not fun and relaxing.  This encourages me to see every part of my day as one, a smooth flow of activity done with conscious awareness of Spirit and joy.

I am no longer looking at the clock with that internal pressure that a task must be completed by a certain time.  So instead of rushing through my work because I think that all those emails need to be sent before 6:30 because that’s when dinner should be,  I write leisurely and with care, and enjoy my dinner at 7:00.  If I end up with six appointments on Wednesday instead of four, I get up in the morning looking forward to each person I get to see that day rather than bemoaning how exhausted I will feel.  I am looking at each fourteen  to sixteen hour day as a gift and opportunity, and I am open to whatever that day may bring.

Looking at the day this way has helped me release the rigidity and limitations of habit. One of the reasons my blog postings were so regular in the past was because I set aside a chunk of time on Tuesday to write it.  This was fine when business was slow, but as business has picked up, my Tuesdays have gotten filled up, too.  As this happened I either felt a little resentful, always having to put business before pleasure, or I de-emphasized the importance of writing my blog, since the blog wasn’t paying the bills.  So for a couple of months, the blog didn’t get written at all.  But in reality, neither of  these thoughts are truth.

The truth is my business is my pleasure.  My blog helps me and helps those who enjoy reading it, so now I write it when I am inspired and when I can; I aim for once a week. And since I am no longer so rigid about it, I usually find the time somewhere.  In my healing practice, I absolutely  love helping others let go of the thoughts and hurts and pains that cover up the beauty that each and every one of my clients are, so I gratefully and joyfully fill up my schedule during the day and sleep soundly at night;  filled with gratitude and feeling blessed and honored to do this work.

And it tickles me to no end to see people try our soup and be surprised at how good it tastes.  I love to watch Thomas sell – he is so good at reading people that he can even usually guess which soup a person will like most.  I don’t feel so bothered when we encounter the occasional curmudgeon who doesn’t like our soup and who feels obligated to stand in front of our table telling us why ( in front of others who would like to try it).  I figure he or she is probably a little lonely and needs to vent.  Once I realized this and let go of that immediate feeling of being insulted, I noticed that most of these complainers still finish the entire sample we’ve given them.

I was able to realize this when I gave up looking at the tastings as a chore that needed to be gotten through.  I am able to now just relax and enjoy the experience; by looking at each day as a gift and opportunity, I am naturally more centered, present and open.  And being present, centered and open naturally leads to a happier day.

I am looking forward to this day.  I know the radio show will get recorded and Nicole and I will talk about our plans for the future of the show.  Beyond that, who knows? All I know is that I will see this day as a smooth flow  of activity done with conscious awareness of Spirit and joy.  And that makes me very, very happy.

With a couple of exceptions here and there, Valentine’s Day has always been a favorite holiday of mine.  The cheery reds and whites and pinks brighten up the dreariness of mid-February, and the whole world seems to focus, for one day at least, on expressing love for one another.  I am blessed to have many people in my life who I love, so this Valentine’s Day I would like to give thanks for and to honor them.  I know that gratitude truly is the highest form of love.

The past couple years has seen my family get smaller, with the passing of my father and a cousin and an uncle, which makes me appreciate the ones who are here even more.  My mother, who is strong and wise and funny and my biggest fan; my brother, Tim, who is the great protector of all his womenfolk;  my daughter, Jasmine, who is my beacon of light;  Nadia, my step-daughter, who brings joy and a breath of fresh air every time I see her, and of course, my beloved Thomas, whose steady love and gentle humor and absolutely unconditional acceptance of who I am gives me the foundation to explore what is mine to do in this world.  I love them all immensely.

I am grateful for dear old friends, who have not only witnessed my metamorphosis the past several years, but have supported it, too.  Suzy, who throughout our lives has loved me unconditionally, through bad relationships and the growth of my child from baby to young adult.  Cara and Aimee, who even when I’ve been disconnected from them, have reached out to me in any and every way that they can.  Then there are those clients who have seen me regularly for the past ten years, especially Angela, Jay, Phyllis, Sue, and Ellen, who have let me experiment with each new modality I’ve learned and are as interested in the happenings of my life as I am in theirs.  Blessings, each and every one of them.

I am grateful for new friends, especially in the spiritual communities I have become a part of.  A core group of Facebook friends, who no matter how they got to their living, loving spiritual nature, appreciate the Oneness of all people.  From them I learn much and feel deep support.  They are far-flung  – Finland, Ireland, New York, Ohio, Texas, California, Australia, Thailand, India…  And closer to home, the Unity in Chicago community, where Sunday mornings are filled with hugs and love and laughter that helps me stay centered for the whole week.  Nicole and Mike, who have opened a whole new world to me of love and light and sharing – both through Mike’s beautiful music and production skills and Nicole’s gentle guidance and love with our Wake Up Sunshine! radio show.  The wonderful women of the Extraordinary YOU book, who have a lust for life and living that invigorates me.  How truly blessed I am to have these inspirational people in my life that help me focus and expand on my message of Heart Living.

I am grateful for my wise women mentors, all of whom I am deeply honored to know and to love. I am astounded that they love me, too.  These women of a certain age have all led (and continue to lead) full and eventful lives with compassion, purpose, humility and unshakable faith.  Ivanne has shown me what it truly means to be a devoted vessel of Spirit. Muriel, a former nun who even today leads a life of service, and who can truly see the good in every one and every situation.  And Louise, the life-long Truth seeker, whose keen intellect coupled with her vibrantly spiritual nature has given her vast knowledge and understanding of the New Thought movement, and  is guiding me to be open and ready for the next expression of my own spirituality.  I know these women were God-given to me, and I am profoundly grateful.

For me, today is much more than flowers and chocolate and jewelry (though there certainly is nothing wrong with those things!).  It’s about taking time to acknowledge the gifts these special people are to me; this is what fills my heart with deep, deep love and soaring joy.  It’s the absolutely perfect way to spend Valentine’s Day.

One of the things I enjoy most about my life as a healer is the variety of people who come to see me.  I’ve had clients as young as eight and as old as eighty, male and female, straight, gay, bi- and transgendered; White, African-American, Asian, East Indian and Native American, and a host of other ethnicities. My clients have been Christians, Jews, Hindis, Buddhists, New Agers, Muslims, Atheists, and Wiccan. I  believe in honoring all paths to God, and so I try to work within my clients’ belief systems so that they are comfortable and our time together is meaningful.  Maybe this is why in my practice I have had clients who are ministers and nuns, both Catholic and Buddhist. Last week, however, was a first – I  had a session with a Catholic priest.

He came to me in a circuitous way.  One of his sisters is a client of mine, and a huge supporter of my work – it seems I get at least one referral a month from her, sometimes more.  She had wanted her mother to come and see me for stress relief, but the only way her mother would agree to come was if Father Patrick would have an appointment, too.  I must admit I was a apprehensive –  like many who had left the Church, I tended to be dismissive of the beauty of the faith and focused on what I perceived to be the archaic, harmful traditions that heavily favored men and encouraged guilt and shame.  And yet underneath all my derision was some leftover awe from my childhood of the men who were closer to God than any other mortal could hope to be.  I reminded myself that all who come to me is through Divine Order, and I am simply a channel for Divine Love. I reminded myself that my own opinions and hang-ups truly didn’t matter and prayed to be an open and clear channel.

As soon as we started working together I felt Father Patrick’s expansive, loving light.  His spiritual nature was breathtakingly beautiful, and I could feel his extreme devotion and connection to the God of his faith.  His life was not an easy one.  He was a bridge between a large and often unwieldy religious organization and thousands of people.  By his vows and by the man that he is, he loved all of his congregation with a holy passion, and it was his work to provide comfort, solace and connection to God.  And yet he was human, a man who went to many, many funerals and heard stories of the meanest acts of mankind, and offered a way of forgiveness to all.

He had recently been transferred, through no choice of his own.  He had built up his last church to be a vibrant community with a large school and active and involved congregants.  He had given his heart and soul to make this happen.  Because he was so successful, the archdiocese sent him to perform his magic in another church.  Father Patrick was not bitter or angry; he understood and accepted his role as a servant of the Lord.  But the human side of him mourned the loss and he was a little anxious about his new location.

I was blessed to be able to help put this wonderful man’s heart at ease.  When we were finished he commented that I had a true gift, whatever it was.  I replied that I felt so very honored and humbled to have the opportunity to work with him, and how much I appreciated the complications of his job.  He smiled at me and said, “ It’s not my job, it’s my vocation.  I know you understand that.”  And I smiled in return and affirmed that I did. It was the first time that I consciously realized that my work is my vocation, too.

He helped his mother collect her things and helped her with her coat and boots.  As they were leaving, he turned and looked at me and said, “God bless you.”  I don’t think I’ve ever heard or experienced those words in the way he expressed them to me before.  I sat with the glow of that for a good long while, and I realized my time with Father Patrick had been healing for me,  too.

I was able to let go of that nagging residual negativity I had about the Catholic Church.  I  was able to remember the majesty of the rituals, the sanctity of the saints, how when I was young I could truly feel the beauty and peace the Church gave to its members, including me.  And while I certainly don’t condone any action or behavior that harms another, especially the innocent, I reminded myself that these  are the actions of a few, not the majority.  Condemning the solace and peace that is provided to many who follow that faith is not mine to do.  With this realization I let go of old and deep hurts that were no longer mine to carry.  I felt my heart lighten and expand, and I truly understood what it means to honor all paths to God.  And so it is.

Yesterday was a wonderful pre-Christmasy day.  Yes, I know that today is a week and two days after Christmas,  but very little of these past few months have followed a logical timeline, so I decided to just enjoy the day for what it was, a wonderful pre-Christmasy day.

During Jasmine’s childhood we would decorate the tree and the house on Thanksgiving weekend.  We both loved this ritual, putting Ella Fitzgerald’s Swinging Christmas CD on and sipping cocoa as we decorated.  Every year Jasmine got a special ornament from both her grandparents and me, so by the time she was ten the majority of the ornaments were hers, and by the time she reached eighteen the tree was heavy with them all.  Any other ornaments got tucked away on the inside branches.

We always spent Christmas at my folks in Florida, so Christmas was double the fun.  It never crossed either one of our minds to not have our own tree.  When she started college in Florida, we no longer went down at Christmas since she wanted to be home.   I would go down with her in January right and celebrate with my folks then.  We still decorated on Thanksgiving weekend, though, before her flight back to Florida.

This year Jasmine had a retail job in Florida, so for the first time in twenty-two years, she wasn’t home for Thanksgiving.  Thomas and I were invited to a friend’s house, and she’s an amazing cook, so we gratefully went and had a wonderful time.  But I missed my traditional Thanksgiving and my girl immensely. The tree didn’t get decorated until the week before Christmas when Jasmine came home, nor did any other preparations get done beforehand.  It just didn’t feel like Christmas without the tree.

The week before Christmas was a flurry of incredible happenings.  My car was hit while it was parked, and what I thought was a slight bit of damage turned out to be more extensive, and I still don’t have it back. Our Heart-Warming Soups were featured on a local TV news program, and we got orders far and wide. We found ourselves with a teenager in the house unexpectedly who will be with us through the New Year and probably beyond.

Then on Thursday Thomas had the car, driving near and far delivering soup. Jasmine and I made a trip to the doctor’s office to determine whether her hacking was pneumonia or a nasty bug (it was a nasty bug). We had hoped to go Christmas shopping on Friday, but that didn’t happen because of her illness.  She coughed most of Friday night and early Saturday morning, falling into a deep sleep at about 5:30.  I fell asleep at about six, only to be roused by Thomas at 9:00 so we could do our shopping for the girls and for Christmas dinner.

We got back home at about 3:00pm on Christmas Eve, and the evening was a flurry of wrapping and preparation.  Christmas was church in the morning and then dinner preparation and then a nap. I was so exhausted by dinner time, I barely even tasted what I ate…

Last week, Jasmine, her best friend, and the teenager went to the dollar store to buy glassware and then to the craft store to buy paint.  They were going to make hand-painted glasses for their friends as belated Christmas gifts.  New Year’s Day the teenager spent the evening excitedly preparing a craft area, complete with newspapers on the kitchen table and a drying area on the floor.  Today all three girls sat around the table chatting and giggling, decorating their glassware, listening to Taylor Swift and singing along.

Me?  I looked at the Christmas tree and the dust and the loads of  laundry and thought how this New Year’s was like no other, how I usually have the tree down and the house cleaned and all in order on New Year’s Eve, and here it was January 2^nd already…  I sighed a little and thought how I should get started.  And then I sat down.  I plugged in all the Christmas lights and sat by the Christmas tree, a little grateful for the gray day that made the twinkling lights glow even more.  I listened to the giggling and Taylor Swift and the joyous noises coming from the craft area in the kitchen.  I smiled and spent the afternoon catching up on emails and paperwork, checking in on the fun being had in the kitchen, and feelng very, very grateful for one more Christmasy day.

I’ve been taking a more active role in the soup business lately, making sure ingredient orders are placed in a timely manner, returning emails, and just doing whatever I can to help free Thomas up so that he can do what he does best – marketing, sales, and customer relationships. Today I dropped off ingredients to two of the centers for the developmentally disadvantaged that package our soups. I had been to each of the centers before, but never when the clients were working on our project.

As usual, even though I tend to grump a little inside when I have to do something I don’t really want to do, I ended up being grateful for the experience. At the Douglas Center there were about twelve clients sitting around a table eagerly waiting to begin. They had never seen me before, but when I identified myself as part of the soup business they were thrilled. “Nice to meet you, Cynthia!” “We love this job!” “This job pays good!” “We like working for Tina! (their project manager)” “This job is fun!” It truly warmed my heart to see their enthusiasm.

When I talked to the supervisor about stepping up production, he couldn’t have been happier. He told me that the reason the clients come every day is so they can work. They tolerate the other things they must do – social skill development, living skills development, etc., but they all loved to work. And because our product required a little more challenge – they needed to work together, be patient, and use their fine motor skills – they liked packaging our soups the best. Packaging soup was more fun than folding laundry or sweeping floors.

Driving on to the next center, I was amused. Last Christmas, Thomas and I had sat around our kitchen table packaging soups and went almost nuts. It wasn’t mindless enough that we could do it by rote, and not challenging enough to keep us from going nuts. Packaging those soups seemed almost like torture for us, but those clients I saw today saw it as a blessing. And it showed in their work – when I pick up the soups all lined up in a row they look like happy little soldiers. They do a great job for us.

One of the blessings of letting go of judgment is the ability to see from another’s perspective. There would have been a time when I would have thought of this job as menial – boring, dreary, dull, mind-numbing – and would have insisted that we find a packaging plant to do the packaging for us. There’s a big plant in the area that could probably package our soups faster and cheaper. They wouldn’t be so pretty, though, and I don’t know if our soups would taste quite so heart-warming without the joy our packagers put into it.

I am now practicing with different recipes to expand our line (research and development, I believe this process is called). We want some year-round products, so I am experimenting with a couple of rice and beans recipes, a bean and pasta salad, a chickpea salad… As I develop a recipe I always make sure it is delicious, easy to prepare, and nutritionally dense. Now I’ll pay attention to how easy it is to package as well.

In the past when I’ve had to multi-task I’ve often gotten overwhelmed and distracted. I’ve decided this time around that Spirit must think I can handle a book release, clients, an increase in my radio show AND a growing soup business all at once or they wouldn’t have been given to me all at once. And it’s mighty spiritual practice, being able to stay in my heart and see the gift in it all. Those beautiful souls this morning gave me presence and gratitude, and gratitude is one of the surest ways for me to get clarity of the bigger picture. I realized today that absolutely everything I am doing right now is born out of living from my heart, a commitment to helping others in any way that is mine to do with a whole bunch of love. And how amazing it is when all that love comes right back to me. For that I am truly grateful.