Part 4 of 5, on caring

"It is only the imperfection in us that complains about what is imperfect in others. The more 'perfect' we become, the more gentle and quiet we are towards the 'defects' of others."

-- Joseph Addison

Those things about ourselves that we "learned to hate" very early in life, which tend to be buried in places where we've completely lost our ability to see and care for who we really are, often trigger our egos into action when they are bumped up against by external stimuli. Rather than look inward with a compassionate, yet critical eye aimed at self-discovery and self-improvement, it is always easier to find external things we can use to avoid, feel better than, judge harshly, and lash out at, in our effort to diffuse our own self-hatred. Sad thing is, this only further inflames it. As we learn to really know ourselves - how we've acted in the past, how we've chosen those actions, how we can learn and grow to choose more effectively, we find that others don't irritate us nearly as much. Learning to care for ourselves deeply, in an honest and introspective way, always improves our ability to accept and truly care for others.

Part 3 of 5, on caring

"After awakening inside the body, the spirit of a person's life is ever shedding some human power, just as a flower is steadily bestowing its natural fragrance upon the air."

-- T. Starr King

While we're talking about caring, I offer the above quote as a special tribute to my parents, about whom I care so deeply, and who are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary tomorrow. They are definitely "shedding powers" these days, and it is a most fragrant, poignant, and powerful experience, resulting from their spirits having come alive in ways that really move and inspire me. It is also a natural byproduct of their caring nature. Tomorrow night there will be a special party in their honor (my Dad's health permitting), including 50 or so closest family and special friends, and the only important people that won't be there will be me and my newly expanded family, and for obvious reasons. I am heartbroken to be missing this event, but I know that everyone there understands. So, to help me feel included, and to honor who I am for my family, my Mom called me the other night to ask if I would write a toast that someone in the family would read on my behalf. I felt honored to do so, and I put my heart and soul into it. I used the above quote as its centerpiece. Maybe they won't mind if I share that toast with all of you someday, since I share all of my special moments with you, and this is surely one of them. In the meantime, I invite you, my 500 or so special friends and extended family around the world, to lift a glass tomorrow night in celebration of my parents. Their lives, their love, their marriage, and their parenthood make such a huge ongoing impact on my life which has, in turn, helped establish the underlying theme for this incredible community.

Part 2 of 5, on caring

"If you care enough to get really proactive in the co-creation your life, and you want to really love it to the fullest, then focus on operating out of the joy of what you're creating, rather than out of the fear of what you're risking."

-- Yours Truly

I offer this up to myself first, because I need reminding every day, and to any others of you out there who get confronted with fear as you feel called to celebrate your life's full greatness. Being, doing, and enoying things that are good, right, simple, and true - the things that God provides us every day in the natural flow of our lives - can be really hard sometimes, because there are so many forces out there calling us to do what is most convenient, conventional, expedient, popular, self-serving, sexy, or safe. For me, this looks like rushing back to my training and my work (to stay on track for my big marathon event or to help other people have their lives and solve their deepest mysteries) on the heels of such profound creations as Heather's beautiful birth experience last Saturday and the unfolding of my family's rich story - especially in anticipation of my parents' 50th wedding anniversary coming up this Friday, in the face of my Dad's failing health. If I focus on what I'm risking (my belonging to "the busy men's club," my short-term training schedule or financial well-being, my looking foolish and inept in simply being the "loving, supportive husband and father" I'm committed to being right now), focusing my energy on "looking" great out there vs. "being" great in here, then I will just rob the joy from what I'm creating with God, which is truly a masterpiece. This is a test of the breadth of my vision and the depth of my roots and, just as I write this, the following shows up in my In Box from a friend, miraculously and perfectly timed, as usual.

Psalm 1:3 "He is like a tree planted."

"My parents' home is surrounded by hundreds of trees. I remember during storms when I was a kid, Dad and I would watch the trees. Every now and then, we would lose one. Funny thing though, I can't remember a single tree ever snapping. They all blew completely over. I remember asking Dad about it on several occassions. His answer never changed. The trees that blew over just didn't have deep enough roots. We will face storms of every kind. The wind may whip through us and try to blow us over. We have a solid defense though. Take root in God. The deeper our roots are in Him, the more solid we are able to stand; no matter the strength of the storm. People of God stand firm in Him, deeply rooted in His word. Are you standing firm?"

Here is an example of the little tests that show up constantly, and the little corresponding messages from God that can show up to help you stay on track. After an exasperating day yesterday, in which I was bone tired from only two hours sleep the night before, and nothing seemed to go right all day, including my car needing over $2,000 worth of work, I was preparing Anne's herbal bath and Jake was really acting up and getting on my nerves. Sadly, I yanked his arm away from something he wasn't meant to be touching in an overly rough way, more than the situation called for, for sure. I felt horrible and, as we were playing in his room later, I said "Jakie, I'm really sorry I pulled your arm so hard before in the bathroom. I didn't mean to, and I feel bad." Without hesitating, and in a perfectly adult fashion, he said, "I already got that, Dada." Whoa! Suffice it to say I am going to work really hard to stay really available for my family this week, which might have me be less so for you, but that is a temporary phenomenon that I'm sure you understand. My hardest work by far is to stay present to what is most important to me. In the attached, Heather is instructing me on this, letting me know that my marathon training and work can just wait for a little while.

The first of five, on caring

This quote and corresponding message is part of a five-part series of messages that will build, one upon another. They might get interrupted by the birth of our child. In fact, I'm really hoping so. :-) (And hooray, they actually were.)

"The capacity to care is the thing which gives life its deepest meaning and significance."

-- Pablo Casals

The first thing that happens in any spiritual awakening is that you begin to care about people and situations that never seemed to matter much before, or at least no one would have known how much by your actions. All of a sudden, you care about them in a new way, with a sense of deep regret about the past and urgency about the future. This is the spiritual "wake-up call," and it can really rock your world. After wrestling with these disturbing/exhilarating feelings for a while and learning to forgive and unleash yourself, life becomes about deep, intense, undeniable caring - and all else becomes secondary. I'm clearly in this place within my family life right now, and it feels so right.

As a corollary to the above quote, I add my own thoughts below:

"When you are able to truly listen to any issues that others in your life (like your children, customers, employees, friends, partner, etc.) might have about you (a true reflection of your "caring"), it's like throwing water on a fire. When you're not, it's like spraying it with kerosene."

And for the deliverer of the issue, an equally compelling dichotomy:

"In proactively creating your 'ability to be heard,' such that you can truly make a difference in another person's life (another reflection of your "caring") you must ask yourself the question, 'Am I suggesting that I could do better than you, or that we could do better for Him and us?' In other words, who you are being (ego-competitor or spirit-collaborator) is the message."

"Stumble and drool power"

Written on Sunday morning, August 31, 2003, at 8:00am:

I just got back from a 6-mile run in the dark, in the pouring rain. It felt strangely good, like it was designed just for me, to be soothed with cool water. It's part of my training - not just my marathon training, but my Life Training. I am just finishing up my second 100-mile month of the summer, on the heels of one of the most emotionally exhausting days of my life - the day when my precious little girl was born, amidst a fleeting fear for her life, on the same day when I thought I could possibly lose my father. In the midst of the great joy of Heather's birth, my Dad called me to say that he couldn't breathe, and that he was so scared and didn't know what to do. I felt ripped in two, so wanting to be in two places at the same time. Well, obviously I made it through the day, and so did Heather, and I'm happy to say so did my Dad. We stayed out of the hospital to have Heather, as she teetered into this life, while my Dad was being raced to one, teetering on the other side of it. We are all thankfully alive for one more day, but I realized in the rain this morning that I had just experienced what my emotional guide and teacher, BMS, calls "stumble and drool power," that incredible supercharged energy that transfixes you when you really get that you don't have a clue how to be with all of the amazing things that this life offers, so you might as well surrender to that utter cluelessness. This class is really hard, Bruce, and I don't know how to do it. I can hear you saying, "That's right, Jim, now you get it!" Whew, ... how crazy is all this? So, life is not about knowing what's going on. It's about feeling all of it, to every extreme. Hebedeh hebedeh hebedeh hebedeh... Happy Labor Day, all!

How it went and who it left with us

"See the color of your baby's wet hair,
the movement of its head,
its first expression.
As its body is being born,
notice the amniotic fluid pouring
from its nose and mouth
(naturally clearing the airways for its first breath).
When your baby sees for the first time,
with eyes both empty and full,
indescribably beautiful,
Listen to the mother's primal scream of birth...
and the baby's first cry.
Feel the baby's warm, wet body, the pulsating cord,
and the unspeakable feelings pulsing within you
as you witness your baby's birth into the great unknown."

-- Pam England, in "Birthing From Within"

It was 6:30pm on Friday evening, August 29th, after a long week of waiting, and Anne's Mom had just served up a fabulous meal of salmon, asparagus, and rice. Yum! And I could see that Anne was feeling something "different" going on. Things seemed to be shifting. At 8:40pm her first contraction hit, and we didn't know if it was the real thing or another teaser, but she looked at me and said, "I think this baby's coming." Life became very surreal at that moment. We all walked around staring at each other, not knowing and yet somehow Knowing everything. Not sure what to do but to give nature its space, we all went to bed at about 10:30pm, as the contractions were coming every 12 minutes or so, and Anne looked so ready and so solid and so sure of herself.

As her night unfolded, here were some of her words from her midnight journaling:

"The contractions got painful near midnight (just had a doozy!). I got out of bed around 2, because I couldn't bear laying there anymore. It hurts and is very annoying. Since being up, they seem to be harder and more frequent (big OUCH!). My hand is tingling, and I just can't sit in this chair. So, I'm just wandering around, listening to Chicago's Greatest Hits. ...

A 2:30am she woke me and said, "I don't want to be alone anymore; I want your company now." So away we went, into a whole other dimension of consciousness - that place that enables you to deal with things that are so much bigger than you. I tried to move Jake into another room, but he was insistent that he wanted to remain a part of the action. Who was I to deny him this? He had every right to be included in all of it. Grandma woke up and joined us, and Anne (her youngest of six) was on a roll now. We took orders, entertained Jake, looked into each other's eyes for comfort and support. We all (the three of us fully vested supporters) had immense stake in this. Grandma was watching her baby go into heavy labor. I was seeing my wife in greater pain than I could ever imagine (and it was going to get much worse). And Jake was hearing his Mother "roar like a lion" (an expression we learned in the sibling's class our midwife gave for existing children of the pregnant moms to keep the little ones calm and yet fully engaged). We called our Doula, Tweed Courtney, and she was there in a flash. Anne was now on all fours on our kitchen floor, and I felt so helpless, and yet so in awe of my wife's immense power of concentration and focus. We started to see blood. We didn't initially think we were going to have to wake our midwife, Pat Jones, until 5 or so, but the time was now. Contractions were regular, 3 minutes apart and 40 seconds in duration, getting much stronger by the minute, so we made the call, and our incredible midwife, the woman who made this entire pregnancy experience so precious and sacred for us, was on her way. The call also went out to Anne's friend Meggans, the honorary sister who was just meant to be here for this, a woman who is connected to and therefore fully understands my wife's soul.

When Pat arrived she was all business, and we knew an experienced hand was at work, to match Anne's perfect wisdom of her own body and the work it was being called to do. Our home became a most mystical place, one so comfortable and familiar, but that will never be the same after this night. It was time to get in the bed and to really push, and Pat noticed a lowering of the baby's heartbeat, and her face signaled her concern, and I was afraid. After encouraging Anne to push harder, and with the slow progress, Pat asked us one of us to call the ambulance. We needed to be ready for any emergency. My heart was racing as my baby's heart struggled to endure the passage. Meggans arrived in the heat of things, and her presence calmed Anne. All worked like the most beautiful team. I felt surrounded by such powerful female forces (goddess energy), and it left me humbled and crying like a baby. Then the most amazing thing happened. My baby's head popped out, and there was this face of an angel, turning and looking straight up at me. The ambulance had arrived, but Pat told them they didn't have to stay. The worst was over, and all was well. As I held my baby's head, with Anne reaching down to touch it, the body slid out into all four of our hands and together we hoisted it onto her chest. It was an unspeakably pure moment of love, one I will cherish forever. It was 4:27am on August 30, 2003. I was at a bad angle when Meggans yelled, "it's a boy!", and I thought, "Oh my God, I felt so sure it was a little girl and so was everyone else, and then Anne said with a giggle, "I don't see any penis here.", and our dream experience was complete. We had our little girl, our little Heather Anne, and she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen - 6 pounds, 13 ounces, and 20 inches of perfection. Take a look.