Elements

the view from my bench

One of the many magical things I’ve discovered about Esquimalt is the wilder side of Victoria’s Inner Harbour – this lovely little part of the Capital Regional District features a coastline of tiny mountaintops poking up through the ocean, gusty winds at unexpected intervals, and an up-hill/down-dale topography that provides a better workout than anything I could probably get in a gym. And the same stunning view of the Olympic mountains is as readily available here as it was from the Ocean Room.

A recent flânerie took me, with my Canon, down to Saxe Point Park, the “over the bridge” version of Beacon Hill that features far fewer flower beds and a slightly less cultivated atmosphere than my former stomping ground. I walked the park’s perimeter with the ocean on my right and the urban forest on my left, until I rounded the point and came upon a wooden bench situated with a rock rise at its back and a stunning view of the water out front. By then a rest was welcome, so I sat down on the bench and took a minute to absorb the environment. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, let it out, and noted:

The sun’s warmth on my face;

The air stirring in my lungs;

The rock solid beneath my feet;

The sound of water gently lapping the shore.

In short, it was a perfectly pure mindful moment in which I was acutely aware of the four main elements that makes this world so beautiful. Wood and metal were also present in the bench beneath me, but this Virgo counts them with rock in the “earth” category.

This dimension is fraught with contrast. Life is not designed to be easy, but our loving, friendly and generous Universe has provided a glorious venue in which to find respite from the human experience. All we have to do is pay attention to it, and to ourselves. We are connected to the earth in ways we don’t fully comprehend, yet that moment on the bench at Saxe Point defined my connection more keenly than any book or documentary ever could.

It must have done, because I’ve remembered it.

Problem Solving

The late Wayne Dyer had an affirmation on his desk. Paraphrasing, it went something like this:

“Good morning! This is God speaking. Today, I am working on solving all your problems, and I don’t need your help. Have a spectacular day!”

It was a cue for him to live the moment and trust in a loving, friendly and generous Universe to work on the larger issues. When his action was required, he would be told.

“Surrender to Source,” advises the daily calendar in our kitchen. Yeah, right. Only “surrender” doesn’t mean “give up”. It means “get out of the way.” Meddling in the Universe’s process creates resistance, hinders the flow, and frustrates me into the bargain.

Problem is, I spend eight hours a day solving problems. Math problems, Sharepoint problems, policy problems, formatting problems, problems, problems, problems. It’s what I get paid to do. It often drives me crazy, but it’s my job. I’m also a Virgo, analytical to a fault and naturally inclined to solving puzzles. So how, after a day of solving other people’s problems, do I stop trying to solve my own? How do I let go of the wheel and trust all will be well without me figuring out some way to make it so?

The problem isn’t the problem. My attitude toward the problem is the problem. In fact, the problem may not even be a problem, it’s just that I perceive it as a problem. And, because I am already (constantly) in problem-solving mode, I feel responsible to, well, solve it.

But some problems are simply too big for me to solve. There are too many moving parts, or the solution will involve more people, or more information may be required before I can act. It may not even be my problem; it might only look like it because it belongs to someone I love.

I must develop an attitude similar to that of the work folks who trust me to have the answers. I must trust my loving, friendly and generous Universe to have all the answers, and to pass them along in the proper time (rather than when I think it’s time). I know life unfolds according to a plan that doesn’t always align with mine, but if I can “let go and let God”, as Dr Wayne liked to say, all will be well. I don’t need to get a grip. I need to relax my grip while the Universe does its thing without me interfering.

All is well now.

Problem solved.

Giving Up for Lent

I’m learning that being better and being different are not the same thing. I can choose to be better than I am, but I cannot make myself be different from what I am.

What I am is, as you are, human.

When Spirit Ru ordered her compostable container for this go-round, she chose the Virgo options package—the gory details available in any astrological writing, but the best description I’ve found being in The Secret Language of Birthdays by Gary Goldschneider and Joost Elffers. While reading the profile of those born on September 2, I wondered how two complete strangers could possibly have nailed every facet of my personality. At my mortal worst, I can be fussy, judgemental, cynical, moody, unyielding and/or explosive. Not pretty.

I can also be generous, compassionate, loving, fair and authentic. The pros might make a shorter list than the cons, but the items indicated on the former weigh more than those on the latter. (My story and I’m sticking to it). I suspect most of the pros came with me from Before. The real challenge lies in mastering my dark side. I can be brutally intolerant, and authenticity is not always a positive trait. Staying on top of my human is truly a practice and some days are doomed. I am especially harsh at fiscal year end, when the stress of balancing the books at work chisels away at my sense of humour, not to mention my patience and normally egalitarian nature.

So, for Lent this year, I thought I’d try to dial it back a bit. Despite neither of us being Catholic, Ter has been studying up on it, and her research suggested that, rather than giving up something like sugar or cigarettes, why not try to be better at something like, say, forgiveness? What a great idea! Don’t make it a sacrificial, negative thing. Put a positive spin on it and improve in a more spiritual way. I can do this, I thought, especially since I’m already working on being more Zen!

Alas, by 7:45 a.m. on Ash Wednesday, Ter had said to me, “There you go again,” three times.

Then I arrived at work. During our mid-morning check in, I burst out ranting about some hare-brained new policy and she said, “There you go again.”

D-oh! Recalibrating ...

I realized something in the following few days. Good bad or indifferent, Virgo Ru is apparently here to stay. I can practice improving on my human, but I will not be able to change it. Nor should I; it’s part of what I am, if not who, and the beauty of this life lies in its flexibility. Every day is a fresh start. The day before doesn’t count and tomorrow doesn’t matter. I’ll never be different from what I am, but by being more mindful, I can be better than I am.

Wish me luck.

With love,

Mutable Earth

A buddy of mine is plagued by Virgos. She has me, for one. Her preteen daughter, just morphing into the ugly years, is another. She’ll often tell me story of the girl’s attitude then say, “Must be a Virgo thing,” which I’ll either confirm or deflect to pubescent hormones.

She recently met a guy whose birthday is the day before mine. It started out great, but went a little weird after a few days, during which she was inclined to some action, but held off for fear he’d “get all defensive” on her.

“Virgos don’t get defensive,” I snapped.

Nonplussed at the interruption, she blinked at me—and burst out laughing.

…

What?

A Virtuous Life (Part II)

I no longer believe that I have a greater purpose beyond a) being happy and b) making others happy. Item b) isn’t actually my responsibility—it’s the individual’s—but if I can help to make someone’s day better, I’m game. Ever the fan of recipes with fewer than five ingredients, and thanks to Dr. Wayne Dyer, I was recently reminded of the four cardinal virtues as defined by Lao-tzu in the Tao Te Ching:

Reverence (Respect)

Sincerity (Honesty)

Gentleness (Kindness)

Supportiveness (Service)

I know; that looks like eight, but it’s not. The four virtues are so called because they originate with our divine natures, therefore it’s more natural for us to practice them in all their incarnations, i.e., “reverence” being interpreted as unconditional love and respect for ourselves, for each other, and for all living beings. You can include the planet in the last category, as the world and everything in it is made of energy on some vibrational level and is, therefore, alive.

You’ll note that patience is not listed, despite being hailed by established religions as one of the nobler virtues.

Well, maybe it’s there after all—filed under “Gentleness”. There may be four cardinal virtues, but like the four astrological elements, there are descending (or ascending?) variations of each. Secondary and tertiary virtues sprung from the original, if you will. Some have been decreed by religious dogma, but any quality that makes the world a kinder place is fine by me. The point being that, since the cardinal four actually come with us from beyond the veil, daily practice of same can and will enrich a person’s life as well as those whom that person encounters, and it doesn’t matter which god claims you.

This sounds simple, and it probably is. Humans do have a way of complicating things. Within the maelstrom that is daily life, simplicity is hard to come by.

That’s why it’s called “practice”. You may not get it right the first time. If you do, good luck sustaining it. But as long as you persevere, practice eventually becomes a way of life. Same goes if you choose to be a pin-headed rat bastard. Practice anything with regularity and you’ll achieve it. Even miserable sods have the power to increase their abundance. The Universe serves everyone.

Or tries to serve. I still get in my own way. I still grip the wheel with both hands and try to force my will on it. All I have to do is set the intention and step away from the helm, but can I do that???

Yeeeeaaaaahhhhh—No.

Virgo = Control freak. For someone who has no limitations, I have given myself limitations.

Four little virtues. Respect, honesty, kindness and service.

Practice, practice, practice.

With love,

The Day After

My desk calendar is hardly a forward thinker. It features no Buddhist wisdom or Zen images. Every quote is taken from A Song of Ice and Fire—I might be sour on the TV show, but I remain a loyal fan of the novels. Sometimes the saying is relevant, sometimes not, and it doesn’t really matter beyond the date. Each morning, I tear away the previous day’s page and flip it over to see the bonus feature. Mazes, word searches, sudoku puzzles, household hints, terrible puns, and the dumbest feature of all: the unknown holiday.

This would be a genuine bonus if it appeared on the back of the page before the date. Among other gems, I have missed Ice Cream Day, Name Your Car Day, Do Nothing Day, and the worst omission of all—Book Lover’s Day. This bibliophilic nod falls on August 10, but I didn’t know about it until August 11.

That August 10 also happened to be Duran Duran Appreciation Day is of little comfort. I am a ferocious book lover, perhaps even more than I am a Durannie, and while one might argue that every day can be Book Lover’s Day, it struck me as absurd that the notification was placed so as to be missed until after the occasion.

Doof.

The main purpose of a calendar, I believe, is to mark special dates ahead of time … though I recall a friend’s amusement at the notion of a Zen calendar. “A timeless watch,” he said quietly, poking fun with love at an attempt to incorporate some serenity into a crazy environment.

I’m a Virgo and it’s cheating to turn a page before the one you’re on is finished. I suppose it would be worse if the surprise holidays were statutory days off, but I’d have enjoyed the excuse to hit the ice cream shop on that day back in July … if I’d known about it at the time.

Butterflies

I dreamed of butterflies, last weekend. My room was full of them, in all colours and sizes, on every surface with more coming through the window, and though my mind was squealing that “they’re bugs!”, I let them land where they wanted. Eventually, I was surrounded.

The next morning, I asked Ter what butterflies mean in spirit lore. Off the cuff, they represent transformation, transmutation, joy and beauty. Deeper research revealed that they herald change, purport lightness of being, living in the moment, freedom in general, that sort of thing. All good things, really.

While Ter was hunting the info online, I came in and read her the Zen calendar blurb for the day: “The butterfly counts not days but moments, and has time enough.”

Chills ensued. See, I’ve been struggling (no surprise) with the novel. It has moments of brilliance, but overall, it’s not working and I cannot figure out what the effing hell is wrong. It’s just not fun right now. In fact, it’s become painful to the point that Ter accused me of being weighed down by it. “You’re grim,” she said. “Let it go, will you?”

Well, I’ve committed to finishing it, so letting go is a nice idea, but once committed, I have real trouble admitting defeat. So during my bedtime meditation, I told the universe that I’m setting it aside and getting out of my own way, hoping to clear the path for another story to be told. Then the butterfly dream happened. Then the butterfly quote appeared. Seems kinda obvious to me … now.

After our morning tea discussion, I asked Ter, “Why didn’t I see this before?”

“Because you’re a Virgo!” she yelled.

KAOS or Control?

The next time you’re driving somewhere, take your hands off the wheel and see what happens. I bet your vehicle will run straight for a little bit, then the tires will hit a bump or a curve in the road and suddenly you’ll be mildly—or wildly—off course. By taking the wheel again, you’ll be able to get back on track, but surrender the helm once more and you’ll be offroading before you know it.

The same thing happens when you let life run itself.

On the flip side, it’s possible to over steer, as well. Tighten your grip too much and you’ll be over-correcting the tiniest ripple, slowing in fear of an unforeseen curve, and generally depriving yourself of the pleasure in driving that long and winding road.

The same thing happens when you micromanage life.

I saw another Bradbury gem the other day: “Life should be touched, not strangled”. It struck a chord because I, the hundred-proof Virgo, am a control freak in the extreme. (A sick irony, considering that I dislike being micromanaged, myself.) By the same token, I have learned over the years to release my white-knuckled grip and let my life happen naturally, working with it rather than fighting to make it do my bidding.

It’s half what you get and half what you do with it. I’ve taken my eyes off the road on occasion, and that’s when my life has spun into chaos. Some control is required in order to keep to the map. Lately I’ve been reminded to trust in my partnership with the universe, that things beyond my control are being handled and I am to let them happen in due course. My role is to handle them when they happen. Everything we do is the result of a decision, a choice. Choose to do nothing and you’ll be at life’s mercy. Choose to act and you’ll be part of a team, you and the universe, getting it done.

You may also find that the scenery is pretty darned amazing.

KAOS or control. It’s always your choice.

Happy Birthday to Ru!

Ru at 52

Finally! My birthday is a statutory holiday! Of course it should be so every year, but once every 5 or 6 is better than never, and it makes up for the occasions in childhood when it landed on the first day of school. 

Birthdays don’t mean the same to me as they once did. As a kid, they were all about cake and prezzies. In my 20s, they were more about parties than prezzies. In my 30s, they were more about prezzies than parties. In my 40s, prezzies began to lose their power and the parties got way smaller. Now that I’m officially in my 50s, the parties are lunch with my parents and I only think about prezzies to placate the people who want to gift me despite my insistence that I haven’t thought about them. I’m lucky. I have more than I need and all I could want … except for that restored ’66 Mustang, of course. 

Along with a quieter celebration of what my dear friend, Treena, terms “Ruthie Appreciation Day”, I’ve come to view my natal date as my own personal New Year’s Day. Rather than wreck my winter holidays with short-lived resolutions on January 1, I use September 2 as a gauge to determine where I am against where I was and where I want to be. If I’m off the mark, it’s time to readjust. Compared to where I was twelve months ago, today I’m in pretty good shape and the future is lookin’ gooood. 

If life hands you no more than you can handle, I must be pretty fragile because I haven’t had to handle very much. Or maybe it’s just that the love of my family – which includes a friend so treasured that my parents call her “the adopted one” – has freed me to focus on whatever struggle has engaged me at the time. Childhood was easy. My teens were uglier than was fair because I had the bones to manage as well as stupid hormones and the horrors of high school. My twenties were more fun and educational than school certainly was. I got my mid-life crisis out of the way at 30 and spent the next ten or fifteen years writing more stories than I had produced in all the years preceding. I am now a bit past the halfway point since I’m unsure that I want to live to be 104, so I guess I’m experiencing a pair of late summers: that of the current year, and that of my present existence. 

My fifty-second year has dawned serene and peaceful. I recognize my good fortune and hope it will continue as I work on my present challenge of “letting go”. I have a terrible time believing (incorrectly) that I have to fix everything, that everyone has to be settled before I can relax, and that my happiness relies on the happiness of those whom I love. Make no mistake: I love more deeply and more loyally than I appear – my favourite Virgoan trait is the assumption that people know I love them so I don’t have to say it aloud. Fussing is not in my nature. It’s not to be confused with fretting, either. Fretting, I do, and very well, thank you. But I’m working on letting that go, as well. I can do so much more for the people I love if I’m at peace, myself. 

These aren’t resolutions. I am a work in progress, so every day is another step along the path to wherever I’m going. I don’t give much thought to the destination these days – I reckon I’ll get there whether I anticipate every move or not. I’m learning that life happens in the moment, not in the future, and whatever my purpose was when I set out in 1961 will find me rather than me having to find it. 

Today Ter and I are going out to peruse the produce at the farm stands in the rural part of the world. We’ll do lunch and drive back along the twisty-turny backroads where the trees are at their nearest to the road – I’m taking the camera to snap some pics of the late summer foliage. It’ll be a fun day. The perfect birthday, really. 

I have always loved September.