December 13, 2016 – Watching for miracles

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I woke up really early Sunday morning – something like 4am – with the thought – I have no idea where the tickets are – the tickets for tonight’s Chanticleer Christmas concert with my husband’s family. I’ve been the one who has ordered them the past several years – but in fact Joe and I did it together in September. We got a ticket for Dad, with the tender hope that he’d still be here to enjoy it – one of the highlights of the year for him. But, I didn’t remember running across them since. Joe asked me the same question after we got up. I had to confess I had no idea. He said that he had given them to me, asking me to put them someplace safe – what did I do with them? I had absolutely no clue. What ensued was not at all in the spirit of Christmas: anxiety, upset, as we searched all the safe-keeping spots. Nothing.

Everyone was looking forward to this – counting on there being tickets. We do this every year. We had dinner reservations. I was melting down inside. Menopause was blamed for the complete lack of memory. What could I have done with them??? I might have stashed them in the top drawer at his office. I jumped in the shower, grabbed everything (including my blow dryer and brush) for the Paint Our Prayers in Larkspur. With wet hair and no makeup, I headed out the door to go see. They weren’t there either. And neither was there evidence anywhere, that we had actually purchased them – not in our ticket accounts online or credit card statements.

Then the spirit of Christmas crept back in. There were seats available for the second show. We flip-flopped dinner and concert, and all was well. Plus we didn’t have to get Dad a ticket – he’d be there without needing one. Things settled down, apologies came. We recovered. When I picked up the tickets at Will Call before the concert, they checked for me to see, if we were on the list for the first show. We had indeed never actually bought the tickets. I didn’t misplace them – they never existed. I’m not losing my mind. He must have handed me the tickets to Madame Butterfly, the opera he took me to on my birthday, two weeks ago. But what has reverberated in me since, is how readily and how willing we both were, to assume that the missing tickets were my fault.

I had a conversation with my mom about it yesterday, which expanded to what is going on in our world – with masculine and feminine – to a much bigger level, than a moment in a marriage. At the end of the conversation, I said something that felt important. I said, not only is there a need for there to be more feminine at play in our world, and for the masculine to value the feminine, but also, for the feminine to value the feminine. Those of us who embody and express beauty, compassion, empathy, cooperation, connection – who see from the eternal perspective – are called to live and operate, knowing how vital what we bring is. Why would we value the feminine though? It’s the masculine that is in power, that sets the rules of the game, determines what’s important. And since, as I’ve learned from Alison Armstrong, it is feminine beings who are – for very good reason – more adaptable, we’ve adapted ourselves to be more masculine – and we believe that doing so, makes us more valued.

A quick note: In some ways, the language of masculine and feminine can be in the way – as it gets linked with male and female and that one is better than the other. We do need both. But, I use it, because it’s shorthand for qualities and modes of being – which we all have capacities for.

Last night, thanks to a Facebook post by my coach Lissa Boles that pointed me there, I dove into some of the recent articles, written by Charles Eisenstein. (This one, written two days after the election, is amongst the most helpful I’ve read on the election aftermath, BTW). He’s a deep and insightful thinker, writer and speaker. His take on what is going on in our world, is stunning to me in its brilliance and forward thinking. Though he’s not using this language, he’s absolutely talking about bringing in the feminine in our interactions. To give you an idea, one of his books is called, The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know is Possible. I ended my evening with him, by watching a TED talk, in which he talked about miracles. He said this: “A miracle is not the intercession of an external divine agency in violation of the laws of nature. A miracle is something that is impossible from an old understanding of reality – and possible from a new one.” We are in, he says, a period where our understanding of reality – of what is real – is radically changing.

I see that it is the old understanding of reality, to engage with those we are in conflict with, from a place of anger or hatred – to lash out at them. At the end of the article I link to above, Charles Eisenstein says: “Instead, we can engage them empowered by the inner mantra that my friend Pancho Ramos-Stierle uses in confrontations with his jailers: “Brother, your soul is too beautiful to be doing this work.” Since reading this last night, I’ve been asking the question: what gives him the capacity and presence of mind, to speak from his heart to his jailers instead of lashing back? It must be some kind of inner capacity. It’s my guess, that he must not feel harmed, must not be taking their actions personally, he must be holding himself differently than those who respond defensively.

In this whole deal with the tickets, I did respond defensively and it wasn’t me at my best. And in a way, I’m grateful for it – because want to be able to not be. I want to be able to allow those in my life, including those I love most, to be upset, even upset with me and not abandon myself as I did and then abandon us in how I communicate.  Somehow these things feel related. In that, it takes a new reality – for me to have and act from a new understanding of who I am and how I am of value – especially my feminine qualities – that allows the miracle of communication at this level to happen. Part of this is also not getting triggered as easily by someone else getting triggered. It’s an on-going endeavor. And one that I’m not giving up on.

Looking out into my life and the world with this definition of what a miracle is, my guess is that they are everywhere. Every shift of awareness, everything we learn or discover, enables us to redefine what is real for us. Before ever putting a brush to paint to paper, the thought of being able to make paintings, is impossible. There is a piece of me that feels this impossibility, at the start of every new painting. Even with the detailed road-map of a photo for inspiration, I cannot know what the painting will ultimately be. This uncertainty is inherent in the process of creation. And each finished one, does have the feeling of miracle in it.

It feels like we are living in a new world, as we come to the end of this year. There is so much fear, grief and anger at how things have unfolded. And so much darkness that has been given license. It seems to me, that this exactly where we’ll find miracles though – there’s no need for them when things are sunny and bright. I think of the story in the faith tradition, that is the closest to my heart – the birth we celebrate at this time of the year. In a reality where a poor couple unable to find shelter, bring their child into the world in a lowly manger, amongst the animals, and there is born a person – human and divine, just as we all are – who brings an understanding of another reality – one of beauty, compassion, empathy, cooperation and connection. We’re still talking about bringing this reality in, 2,000 years later. There’s no giving up hope in me. I’m going to be on the look out for these miracles. You too?

With my appreciation for the miracle you are to me – and with my love,

Cara