Ask for Help

Asking for help does not mean we are weak or incompetent. It usually indicates an advanced level of honesty and intelligence. -Anne Wilson Schaef

I fell hard.  Landing upon a pile of slimy rocks with 50-degree mountain run-off rushing up to my waist, I tried crossing a river barefoot and landed on my ass.  Not my best decision.  Invigorating on one hand, a bruise to the ego (and butt) on the other.  My friend, smartly wearing his shoes, tried offering a hand and I didn’t take it. For some reason, rather than accept help, I’d rather look like a character out of a bad Three Stooges skit, flopping around in the water trying to maintain some sense that I was keeping it together.

After sending my friend away, I independently clawed my way onto the large, dry rocks, and spent some time drying out.  After almost an hour, we had to leave by crossing the stream… and my shoes were on the bank.  In my mind I was determined to try this jaunt solo again.  Some of us learn the hard way.  I sat on a rock and buried my feet deep into the algae cover rocks unwavering in my attempt to find a way to cross without falling and without asking for help.  I could not find stable footing to stand and cross to the bank.  I tried for a few more moments until the thought of hiking in wet pants and terrible chaffing prompted me to ask my friend for a hand. I couldn’t do this one alone and knew I needed to ask for help.

Later that evening my friend kindly stated, “Just an observation. You’re not very good at asking for help.”  Clearly.  Sometimes we all need a friend to give voice to what we already know and extend a helping hand. When I was crossing the river, the only person I was letting down or hurting by not asking for help was myself.

I think there is something in many of us that believes the more we rely on others the more we appear vulnerable.  There is a fear that if we are vulnerable, there is a chance of getting hurt, being judged, being let down, or letting others down.  In truth, asking for help creates a sense of empowerment.  When we can communicate to others that we may not have the answers or know how to do something, we are sharing the gift of our authentic self with our friends, family, and co-workers.  We are showing that we are open enough to seek out answers and accept support from others.  When we can accept help from others it demonstrates a sense of confidence that we don’t need to know how to do everything to be good enough.

In the balance of life, when we can receive, we are better able to give knowing, without judgment that we all need help from time to time.  Sometimes we’re on the giving end.  Sometimes we’re on the receiving end.  It’s part of life.

The next time you feel struggle in your life (maybe you need help carrying the groceries, you need someone to watch your kids for an hour, or you need to figure out how to put filters on your social media) challenge yourself to put a voice to what you need and ask for help.  You’re giving others the chance to be helpful, you’re building a sense of self-empowerment, and you’ll be better equipped to assist when someone asks you for help.

Spring Renewal

“And then the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to Blossom.” – Anais Nin

Spring is a funny thing here in Wyoming.  It vacillates between snaining (snow/raining) and hot…and then one day, in May or June, it stays hot for three months.  Spring is a tough season in Wyoming.  Naturalist and writer Bernd Heinrich states:

Trees only have three short months in which to produce leaves-their photosynthetic machinery- and them use it to make an energy profit. . . . There is, however, a major caveat in trees’ race to grab light: the new leaves are vulnerable to frost damage.  Buds, as long as they are dormant, can, like hibernating insects, survive winter’s lowest subzero temperatures.  Once they awaken and begin to draw water into their tissues, however, they are at risk. . . . The buds need to open as early as possible, but not too early. . . . It’s a dilemma.

In some ways, everything is a risk: what we choose to eat, the words we choose to speak, whether or not we choose to go to a workshop in Wyoming in the spring.  This Saturday a group of local souls ventured outside to take part in the unpredictable mood swings of Mother Nature.  A cloudy and cool day, sandwiched in between two of the most beautiful sunlit days this month, provided us with an oddly perfect setting for our time together.   I have to thank those participants for making this Spring Renewal workshop such a success.  Taking a risk, opening up to receive, and sharing the beauty of their blossoming spirits.  Thanks again!

The Best Thing You Can Do for The Earth…and You

There is a great deal of talk these days about saving the environment. We must, for the environment sustains our bodies. But as humans we also require support for our spirits, and this is what certain kinds of places provide. The catalyst that converts any physical location—any environment, if you will—into a place, is the process of experiencing deeply. A place is a piece of the whole environment that has been claimed by feelings. Viewed simply as a life-support system, the earth is an environment. Viewed as a resource that sustains our humanity, the earth is a collection of places.

We never speak, for example, of an environment we have known; it is always places we have known – and recall.  We are homesick for places, we reminded of places, it is the sounds and smells and sights of places which haunt us and against which we often measure our present.  From A Sense of Place by Alan Gussow

Alan’s got a good point.  A lot of us have good intentions: we recycle, we change our light bulbs, we want good things for the earth.  I’m not convinced these are the best ways to help.  Good, yes, but not the best. I think the best action we can take in helping the earth is cultivating our sense of place.  We’re so busy we rarely experience our moments and places deeply; overlooking the millions of miracles and blessings surrounding us in each moment.

Go out your front door, walk around your neighborhood, visit your local park or wilderness area.  Be still for a moment.  Close your eyes.  Smell the air.  Take in “the sounds and smells and sights of places.”  Let them become the backdrop for time spent with your children, your partners, your friends.  Let the place seep so deeply into your cells that the smell of wet grass reminds you of the summer of your first date or the sight of a Gold Finch reminds you of your best friend.  Our spirits are comprised of these memories; these places.

Help the earth.  Help your spirit.  Experience your Place.

The simple act of sitting outside with a good friend. Good for the Earth. Good for us.

We Are Not Meant for Suffering

Recent backpacking trip in the desert. Courthouse Wash, Arches NP

“Take off your shoes and walk towards the seas, walk towards the deserts. But know, we are not meant for suffering.”

Ask any good Buddhist and he can tell you the Four Noble Truths, the first, “Life contains suffering.” We as humans get suffering.  We suffer through school, maybe even more school, followed by jobs, chores, money issues, Thanksgiving at Aunt Betty’s, etc.  Sometimes getting out of bed in the morning qualifies as suffering.  We do like our suffering.  But is suffering what we are truly meant for? I don’t believe it.

I’ve got to give Buddha props.  Ultimately, he found a way to be with, acknowledge, and move beyond suffering to find peace on his path. I’ve got to give nature a shout-out because she gives us the playground for working the suffering cycle: each time, giving us an even greater glimpse into that sacred space of peace and comfort in our own skin. (You may recognize my suffering cycle prominently displayed in my mid-mountain meltdowns from an earlier post.)

Sweet Nature.  She can lead us right into the depths of suffering.  Oh, we can keep suffering, wishing we weren’t walking through a field of cacti, that we weren’t lost, that it wasn’t black fly season, that we weren’t covered in poison ivy in places that haven’t seen the light of day in decades. Is all this resisting and fighting making it easier? I can guarantee you it’s not.  It just makes us suffer.  I say this with a humbleness born out of systemic poison ivy reactions and serious coming-to-Jesus moments with the wind in Casper, WY.  You can’t fight Nature, she’ll win…if it were even a competition.  What I realize in these moments of struggle and resistance is that we’re fighting ourselves.

Take a moment to think about what’s causing you suffering right now: co-workers, family, Aunt Betty’s cranberry surprise.  Can you create space around it?  Can you accept it for what it is and soften the resisting?  It’s the resistance that causes the pain.  It doesn’t mean that we don’t incur discomfort or sadness, because those are inevitable parts of life.  It means we don’t have to have to make it harder.  Breathe deeply, surrender, and trust we aren’t meant for suffering.

We are not meant for suffering

Like traveling across the desert lands

Spikes and harshness all around

The softness of our soles pricked raw

We are not meant for this suffering

The toughened pads of our earthly connection

Calloused by the hardness of time we create

We are not meant for this suffering

Take off your shoes and walk towards the seas

Walk towards the deserts, but know

We are not meant for suffering

Delicate Arch, Arches, NP