We haven’t had a hard freeze in South Texas for several years, so it’s a rare treat to see the seamless blanket of icy, white frost covering everything in sight outside our bedroom window.  It’s Saturday morning, and though I’m sorely tempted to stay right where I am in this snug, warm bed, I jump up instead, eager to explore this winter wonderland.  Trundling carefully across the slippery walkways and through the crunchy, frozen grass, I stare in amazement at all the glistening ice crystals and icicles clinging to the various rocks, plants and trees in our yard.
 
A short while later, the glowing sun pops up over the horizon, and a strange, slow motion ballet begins:  one by one, leaves start falling from the many pecan and hackberry trees surrounding our house.  At first there are just a few, dropping at random intervals, but their numbers grow rapidly as the sun shines brighter and warmer.  There’s no breeze at all, so the leaves are falling straight down, like a bizarre blizzard of oversized, brown and yellow snowflakes.  It is mesmerizing to watch these trees being stripped naked of all their foliage so quickly, quietly, and thoroughly without any visible cause.  My brain fumbles with a jumble of half-forgotten facts learned in biology class long ago, trying to make sense of this surreal imagery from a logical perspective.  All I know is that these leaves are obeying the ancient Law of Letting Go, as the trees shift most of their creative energy from their showy, outer surfaces to their hidden depths; from the branches down into the roots, which will spend the winter digging deep and wide, in order to provide an increased capacity for budding leaves and fruit when spring comes around again.
 
Meanwhile, I would swear that the last few of these falling leaves are whispering something directly into the ears of my soul, in a language that it somehow knows instinctively: “Let go of the old.  However cold and hard it may seem, now is the time to pursue your dreams by doing things that may not be visible on the surface.   A time for going deeper, for getting in touch with your roots, for growing past outmoded boundaries and ways of being.”
 
Freeing the zipper on my jacket, I loosen my shawl, turn my face toward the warmth of the sun and say a silent prayer of thanks.  One thing is clear:  this is a powerful time of year.
 
With hopes of seeing you Around the Circle and celebrating this season together,

Rudolf

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

Our family spent a few days at the coast recently, thanks to the generosity of a friend who loaned us her condo in Port Aransas. There weren’t too many people around, because the weather was mostly grey, cloudy and wet - yet the water was warm enough that we could still swim, though not for too long at a stretch.  So it was mostly a restful time, with multiple walks, naps, snacks, and books. But as usual, my favorite part was doing Tai Chi Chuan on the beach at sunrise and sunset, and whenever I could get there in between. It’s such a delicious study in contrasts: expanding and contracting; rising and sinking; watching the shift between darkness and light at the margins between day and night. Dancing through the split-second timing of this ancient form, along the narrow stretch of firm, yet constantly shifting wet sand at the interface of land and sea, accompanied by the stimulating, yet calm song of the waves.  Ahh…
 
Two mornings in a row there was a guy surf-fishing nearby from dawn till after noon.  His form looked different from mine, but he, too, was dancing to an ancient rhythm: casting, sitting, waiting, tugging, reeling in and casting, over and over again. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, though I never saw him catch any fish.  As he was packing up to leave on the second day, I walked over to make conversation.  His eyes twinkled as he acknowledged having caught and released just three small fish during two long days of fishing, then smiled deeply and said, “But, hey, it’s about the fishing, not the fish!”
 
Now that I’m back at my desk and tackling the seemingly endless stack of details, deadlines and duties involved in being spiritual director of Celebration Circle, I choose to remember that this work, too, is all part of that same fascinating, timeless dance of Life.  That the purpose of a dance isn’t to finish it as quickly as possible, but inhabit it fully.   And that although I’m now sitting many miles from the seashore, the age-old rhythm of the surf is still pulsing through the saltwater in my veins, whispering, “Slow down.  Relax.”  Reminding me that regardless of what society or my Monkey Mind may say about my job (or yours), there’s no need to rush toward some imaginary “result” or “finish line.”  Yes, there are responsibilities to fulfill, budgets to meet, and widgets to make, both at home and at work. But Life is much more than just what we do or make or “catch.”  Like the man said, “It’s about the fishing, not the fish!”  About being willing to participate fully in the process of growing, without becoming attached to the products, while still trusting that all those products, projects, and outcomes will turn out just fine - and maybe even better - because of such willingness to focus on the fishing, not the fish.
 
Sure, it’s all too easy to forget this larger perspective in the course of daily life.  But that’s why I find it so helpful to be around people who are willing and able to remind me.  To be in a spiritual community like the Celebration Circle, where we seek “to honor and nurture the Sacred in ourselves, each other and all of Creation.”  To take part in our various weekly gatherings, or Meditation Circles, and be surrounded by others who are eager to support and be supported in the process of Remembering the Big Picture as often as possible.
 
And that’s why I’m particularly delighted to invite you to be part of our upcoming weekend retreat on November 6-8, when we’ll be focused on “The Gift of Sacred Rest.”  Together we’ll explore and experience a variety of different ways to relax into the Sacred Rhythm; to become more mindful and gentle with ourselves; to remember to focus on the fishing, not the fish.  This marks the 11th year of presenting these Circle weekend retreats at Slumber Falls Camp in New Braunfels - and I don’t think it’s bragging to say that we’ve developed a very meaningful, magical and peaceful format over the years.  I’d love to share it with you.  We offer a beautiful outdoor setting on the banks of the GuadalupeRiver, with three days/two nights of great meals, meditation, spiritual direction, relaxation, music, art, and yoga - all for just $195 (and better yet, just $175 if you register by October 25th). 
 
It would be great to have you join us at the retreat.  But whether you come or not, attend our Circle gatherings regularly or infrequently, live nearby or far away, I truly hope that you feel welcomed and affirmed by your connection to the Celebration Circle.  That you feel supported in remembering that You are the Dance.  And that you know how much I appreciate being able to dance alongside you.
 
With gratitude and blessings, 

Rudolf

From time to time I find myself wondering how a particular Circle project or event will turn out.  Sure, I know better, but we have such a small staff and there are so many details and logistical considerations involved with each retreat, concert, art show and gathering (to say nothing of the weekly Sunday Morning Circle and Wednesday Meditation Circle).  It’s easy to get caught up in worrying about all the phone calls, budgets, attendance figures and timelines - and forget to look at the Big Picture. At times like that, I often find myself grinning inwardly and remembering the first children’s concert I ever performed… 
 
It was the spring of 1987.  Zet and I had just moved back to San Antonio after five years of living in Berkeley, where I’d made the transition from angry, young folk-punk singer to upbeat, New Age troubadour.  I had a blossoming-but-financially-tenuous career that had been tough enough to sustain while living in Northern California, but I had no idea how to make it pay the bills in South Texas, AKA the “Buckle of the Bible Belt.”  Then one day a friend told me that my new album was her five-year old son’s favorite music, which he insisted on listening to every day on their way to kindergarten.  She urged me to perform a children’s concert at his school, and though I initially declined (due to the fact that I didn’t know any kid’s music…), I needed money, so I decided to try an informal Saturday morning show. 
 
I didn’t expect much, but it turned out to be Big Fun because I’d written some new songs, learned a few magic tricks, the little room was packed with happy children and parents —  and when they passed the hat, it came back with almost $300 inside.  Wow, that was easy!  Thinking we were on to something profitable, Zet and I decided to focus our time and talents on producing a full-scale children’s concert.   We rented the San Pedro Playhouse for another Saturday morning show and mounted a full production.  We hired a percussionist, tech crew and house manager; contracted with a publicist, took out advertisements, bought mailing lists, printed high-quality flyers and mailed them out to anybody and everybody we could think of.  It seemed like I was really “following my Guidance” and everything was going smoothly.  But when the curtain went up, there was an audience of just 25 people in a theater with 350 seats.  Of course, “the show must go on”, so I did what I had to do, while feeling totally devastated and decidedly broke. 
 
But it among the few people present was an administrator at Region 20, the Educational Resource agency for South Texas.  He’d just been assigned the task of finding a children’s entertainer for a series of in-school performances incorporating such themes as “self-esteem” and “making powerful choices” - which is exactly what I’d been singing about during the show.  A week later, I had a contract to perform in 80-100 area schools a year for the next three years, at a very nice daily fee.  Those weekday gigs made it possible for me to continue traveling to various churches, concerts and conferences on weekends, developing the ministry that eventually gave rise to my work with the Celebration Circle.  My whole career had shifted to the next level at one stroke - during what certainly looked like a “failed event” to me!
 
Twenty-two years and hundreds of events later, I’m still doing my best to live out the lesson I learned back then:  Focus on the work, not on the outcome.  Because life is a process, not a series of products.  Of course, sometimes I remember, and sometimes I forget - but mostly I trust that, whatever the appearances, whatever the situation, Spirit isn’t finished working yet…
 
With blessings for your Work, whatever it may be — and hopes of seeing you Around the Circle, 
Rudolf