Wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving …

Rudolf

The cute little puppy that our son, Mateo, got for Christmas last year has grown into a sweet, but solid, 45-pound bundle of muscular energy.  Zoe is very docile 95% of the time, but she can really move when she gets excited.  Last week, while strolling out to the mailbox together, she spied a squirrel and went dashing off, smashing me from behind and bowling me over. Ouch!  Feeling my lower back had been knocked out of whack, I immediately phoned our family chiropractor for an appointment.  By the time I saw Dr. Owen the next morning, I was in a lot of pain.  Fortunately, it didn’t seem like any permanent damage had been done.  Unfortunately, my sacrum and a lower lumbar disc had been jammed tight, leaving me little choice but to spend the next few days getting a series of chiropractic treatments (unbudgeted medical expenses!), minimize movement (major inconvenience!), maximize bed rest (more inconvenience!) and apply ice frequently (distinctly unpleasant sensation!). Boy, was I ever mad at Zoe when I came home from Dr. Owen’s office.
 
But an interesting thing happened over the next few days, as I cut back on my appointments, avoided the discomfort of sitting at my desk, and became intimately acquainted with an ice pack instead.  Propped up on the sofa, nursing my aching back, with Zoe lying sweetly on the floor right next to me, I found my anger toward her shift to a deep sense of gratitude.  Thanking her for this period of enforced rest.  For nudging me away from my desk.  For helping me see just how much energy I fritter away in the office.  For reminding me how much I love to exercise - and how seldom I’ve been doing it in recent months, simply because I’ve stayed “too busy.” And for a pointed demonstration of the precious, precarious nature of life; how circumstances can drastically change in one moment as a result of one brief fall, one phone call, one seemingly innocuous shove from a puppy.
 
One week, two ice packs, and four chiropractic treatments later, I’m happy to report that my back is feeling much better.  And how glad I am that Zoe helped me get a head start on celebrating Thanksgiving by getting in touch with gratitude.  She may have delivered a mixed blessing, but it was a blessing nonetheless.  Which leads me to ask:   What are YOU grateful for?   And why not spend a few minutes, right now, swimming in a sea of gratitude for your many blessings? 
 
With gratitude and hopes that you’ll find yourself with a long list of people, circumstances and pets (???) to help you celebrate your personal Thanksgiving, too,

Rudolf

Our family is very conscientious about recycling as much as possible, buying minimally processed/packaged foods, and feeding our kitchen scraps to the neighbor’s chickens.  So we generate relatively little trash; it would take several weeks to fill that huge brown City Public Service bin to a level that would justify hauling it out to the curb on the basis of volume alone.   But… since we have two dogs whose varied contributions add a distinct odor to the collection, it’s important to remember to take it out every Tuesday morning.
 
That’s trash collection day in our neighborhood, maybe yours, too.  A fairly simple, yet amazingly complex process, when I stop to think about it.  All I have to do is roll the big brown trash container out to the curb before 7:00am. Later that day, a municipal garbage truck will roll up alongside the bin, extend a giant mechanical arm, lift the bin, empty the trash, and place the container back on the curb, ready to be re-filled with next week’s refuse. The system works great, as long as we remember to take the can to the curb.  Otherwise, we’re stuck with a very foul smell hanging around the back of our house for a whole week till the next Tuesday rolls around.
 
Fortunately, my wife remembered this morning, even though I forgot.  Now, wheeling the empty container back down the driveway late at night, under a clear, bright sky, I find myself reflecting on our trash can as an analogy for the spiritual processes involved in “taking out the garbage” that we seem to collect inside ourselves. Let’s face it; most of us tend to accumulate a fair amount of inner “trash” from the stress, anger, fear and anxiety we’re exposed to on a daily basis.  It’s nothing personal; just another by-product of living in our increasingly fast-paced, competitive culture.  We do our best to remain conscious and let go of as much “stuff” as we can - and still, somehow - the trash piles up inside of us and gets smelly anyway.
 
Fortunately, there are many effective tools and strategies available for dealing with this “inner garbage,” such as psychotherapy, diet, exercise and energetic healing modalities.  But personally, as well as professionally as a spiritual director, I still prefer to use the time-tested spiritual practices like prayer, meditation, writing, and sacred ritual.  I find them particularly effective because it’s not “me” doing the work alone; I believe I’m literally turning my “trash” over to Spirit, knowing that it will be transformed and hauled off.  It’s a mysterious process, and I don’t pretend to understand it fully.  I just know it works, as long as I take the initial step of remembering to haul my garbage can out to the curb, i.e. move into prayerful consciousness and open myself to the possibility of cleansing, healing, releasing, forgiving.  Whether done alone or with a group, aloud or in silence, formally or informally doesn’t seem to matter.  I just know that I must do my part, in order for Spirit to do it’s work.  The Higher Power of my Understanding may be Infinite and Unlimited, but Spirit can’t come drag trash out of my heart, anymore than I could reasonably expect the city’s Sanitation Engineers to come walking down my long driveway to schlep my trash to their truck.
 
Feeling grateful, I roll the garbage can back in place, then go wash my hands and face, and get ready for bed.  But in those last few minutes before my head hits the pillow, I sit in silent meditation, let go of the day, feel the sensation of my trash being hauled away.  Amazing grace, indeed…
 
With gratitude and blessings,

Rudolf