Thank You Readers From Other Countries

I want to acknowledge and thank the readers of this blog from other countries. I am very grateful that you find my blog worthy of your time and thought.

Such countries are: Spain, Poland, Ukraine, Brazil, Germany. France, China. Finland, Iran, Lebanon, England and of course, all of you in the USA.

Thank you for reading Life Opening Up!

Cecily Stranahan

Captivated By A Classic

A week or so ago I found myself watching the movie, Lassie Come Home. I had no idea why.

The movie was filmed in 1943. Elizabeth Taylor, who played Priscilla was ten years old and Roddy McDowell, playing Joe Carraclough, owner of the collie, Lassie, was fourteen.

I case you don't remember, the story goes like this:

Set in Yorkshire, England, the Carraclough family is hit by hard times and forced to sell their collie, Lassie, to the Duke of Rudling who has always admired her. Young Joe Carraclough grieves the loss of his companion. The Duke takes Lassie to his home in Scotland, hundreds of miles away. There, his granddaughter senses the dog's unhappiness and arranges her escape. Lassie sets off for a long trek to her Yorkshire home and the boy who loves her. Along the way she faces many perils, but also meets kind people who offer her assistance and comfort. By the end, when Joe has given up hope of ever seeing Lassie again, the weary Lassie returns and is joyfully reunited with the boy she loves.

The story of a dog's journey home: her determination, the trials along the way and the helpers. I'm a sucker for the hero's journey, and this story has all the elements of a classic mythological tale, as in The Hero's Journey, by Joseph Campbell. But this time the hero is a dog.

When a ferocious black dog attacks a rain-soaked, half-starved Lassie, I was relieved that the worst of the fight was filmed as hidden behind some bushes. At the end we see the black assailant, its face streaming with blood, whining and running away.

The owners of the black dog, a pair of sheep men, decide not to shoot Lassie--seen as a possible sheep predator-- because they grudgingly admire her spirit in the battle.

"That collie is going somewhere," muses the tall, rugged sheep owner with a half smile, as he shoulders his gun.

Right. We know that, don't we? But still . . . the sheepman's recognition of the dog/hero is satisfying.

Another part I loved was the old couple in their cozy cottage hearing "something" in the night and, wrapped in shawls, running outside through the bucketing rain to find Lassie, nearly dead from wounds and starvation. Together they carry the dog into their cottage and lay her on the oval rag rug in front of the fire.The woman, her gray hair twisted into braids and wrapped around her head, kneels and spoons warm milk into Lassie's mouth.

Of course Lassie recovers. By then the old couple have fallen in love with Lassie and want to keep her. The husband scouts about the village and hears nothing about a lost dog. They are jubilant. "she is ours!"

But as they days pass, Lassie becomes increasingly restless, trying to squeeze out of narrow open windows, pawing at closed doors.

Sadly the woman tells her husband, "This dog has a purpose. She is going somewhere," the woman says. "We have to," she sobs,"let her go." And they do.

Freed and standing at the end of their path, Lassie turns her head back toward them--one last look-- as they stand in the doorway, their arms around each other. Then Lassie romps away.

Lassie and Joe are reunited. The Duke and Priscilla come by searching for his missing dog and, realizing that Lassie belongs with joe, they pretend not to recognize the collie.

The last scene in this movie is ideal. A beautiful, long-haired Elizabeth Taylor and a fresh-faced Roddy McDowell are riding their bicycles side by side, followed by a healthy, brushed-out Lassie with a slew of collie pups trailing her.

OK. So this is an old-fashioned, sentimental and predictable  movie. Nonetheless, Lassie's determination to pursue her goal of home--in spite of the unknowable and perilous distance--is heroic.

Her's is a goal of home and love. One way or another, isn't that everyone's story? Aren't there always obstacles? Some of them are gut-wrenching: poverty, cancer, divorce, loss of a child and post traumatic stress. And yet we persevere. We, with help from others along the way, pick ourselves up and putting one foot in front of another each day, we head, we hope, toward home.

Unlike Lasie, however, home for us on our hero's journey is not usually a physical place, but instead a place of renewed love and forgiveness, a peaceful home within our own hearts.

Memory Wipe Out?

I confess that I do not own an I Phone. In fact, I don’t own an I Anything. I know; I know. I am so out of the loop---as obsolete as a four-on-the-floor, stick-shift car. But there we are.

The phone could happen; I think it probably should happen. It just hasn’t. I do have an old, fold-over cell phone for emergency purposes—in case I should drive into a snow bank and need help. It works fine.

 Although I am not at all interested in “selfies,” it might be nice to have one of those phones that does just about everything but empty the dishwasher.

 Still, I am cautious. Recently a much-younger friend told me that she often finds herself trying to remember the name of something and, unable to do so, she immediately reaches for her cell phone.

“It has become a part of me, an extension of myself,” she told me, “I don’t have to remember anything anymore; I just grab my phone. My phone is my memory,” she said, her voice shaded with concern.

I got to thinking about that. What happens to those neural-pathways in the brain that we are supposed to keep free of cobwebs? I’ve already got some of those pathways going flimsy on me even without a cell phone. If we don’t use our memory, insist that it drag information up from its depths, will those pathways become even more narrow and rigid than we might normally expect?  If we don’t use our memory, will we lose it?

Long term—I am thinking of evolution here--will the parts of the human brain that store and retrieve memory shrivel from lack of use? The way the invention of fire eliminated the need for hair on our bodies? Because smart phones haven’t been around all that long, I suspect the impact of these phones on memory function has only begun to be imagined, much less analyzed.

I’m in favor of creating new neural-pathways whenever we can. Breaking up our patterns. Taking a different route to the grocery store, brushing our teeth with our left hand if our right is the usual choice, saying, “yes” to something benign that we have habitually said “no” to--acquiring any new skill.

I am no scientist but I can tell you this: when the day comes that I do buy a smart phone, while I am learning how to use it, I know I will be blasting new neural-pathways through my brain—or at least awakening flabby ones--and I will be grateful.

I will also make every effort not to surrender my memory to that phone.

A Note To Ukrainian Readers

From the New York Times this morning:

"While the United States and its allies cheered the ouster of Ukraine’s pro-Moscow president, Viktor F. Yanukovych, who fled Kiev on Feb. 21 and is now sheltering in Russia, Moscow deplored his removal as an armed putsch led by fascists."

Ukrainian readers:

We continue to cheer for you and pray for you in your determination to maintain your independence. You are a brave country. 

Looking Past The Bumps In The Road

 “As the holy weeks of Judaism and Christianity come to an end, we ask: How do you picture God? How do you pray? How does your belief in God connect to your daily life? Karen Armstrong, Krista Tippett, Mark Epstein and the Rev. James Martin join us for this special family meeting.”

This was the introduction to The Brian Lehrer Show, God and You, Monday, April 21, 2014.

I caught only some of Lehrer’s remarkable show. I was heading for the store and, turning the ignition key of my car, the radio immediately caught my attention as I recognized the well-spoken, English voice of theologian, Karen Armstrong. So intent was I on what she was saying that I almost drove past the entrance to Stop and Shop. The Brian Lehrer Show on WNYC (93.9) can do that to you.

 Once having parked, I sat in my car to listen further and heard Armstrong tell us that---I am paraphrasing here—only the modern world separates religious beliefs from culture. In the ancient world all cultures were imbued with religious beliefs. To be a politician was considered a sacred act, Armstrong said. Imagine! Politics as a sacred activity?

I was loath to leave my car but . . . time to go!

On the way home, Fr. James Martin, Jesuit teacher and writer, was discussing various forms of prayer: centering prayer—a Catholic, God-centered form of meditation---and “imaginative” prayer—a form of Ignatian contemplation in which one uses all four senses to place oneself inside a gospel scene. I’ve done this practice; it can be very moving.

 Along with Lehrer, Fr. Martin responded to people who called to share what prayer means to them. It seemed every point of view was expressed: from “I don’t believe in a personal God, so I never ask God for anything”—Fr. Martin disagreed---to expressed belief in God’s fatherly and personal presence.

One caller said something I thought wonderful. (Again, I am paraphrasing.) The man said that he knew that life was full of bumps in the road. He knew also that if he focused on each possible bump he would surely hit it. Therefore he prayed daily that God would guide his vision in order that he might always be able to see past the bumps to the clear path ahead.

Every spiritual teacher I have encountered, from Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, (The Power Of Positive Thinking) to more recent teachers, Fr. Richard Rohr, for example, (Everything Belongs) agree that remaining as positive as we can—even in the face of adversity---and not focusing too intently on the bumps in the road, helps us to get through the difficulties of life more easily.

Let’s face it. Not one of us wants to be seriously tested. But, simply put, a positive attitude can make life more enjoyable in every way. Let’s look where we want to go. Let’s look past the bumps toward the clear path ahead and pray in gratitude each day that that path is revealed to us.

***

 For the Karen Armstrong interview, click on Social History of God: and/or for the whole show, God and You: A Two Hour Special at http://www.wnyc.org/shows/bl/

No Simple Steps

The theologian, Karen Armstrong, has been wise with her book, Twelve Steps to A Compassionate Life. Instead of one of her customary tomes, she has produced Twelve Steps as a handy read that you can easily tuck into your bag. Furthermore, the words “Twelve Steps” resonate throughout America and if I can become a compassionate person in twelve steps, I’m all for it. Buy the book!

Begin reading and you find yourself in the company of a theologian who knows more about the history of religion than perhaps any one in the world. You will also discover that there are no simple steps to becoming a person of compassion. But then there wouldn’t be, would there? Developing compassion is a complex business.  Nonetheless, one can, guided by Armstrong--who is guided by the historical greats--make some major moves in that direction.

I think we are far more able to be compassionate toward others than toward ourselves. We are pretty quick to show up with the chicken soup for a friend in need. We are perhaps less compassionate with strangers and certainly with ourselves. Self-compassion lies buried beneath the layers of “shoulds” and “have tos” that direct our lives. When did you last cut yourself some slack?

Only last week I had to catch myself as I waited while an elderly and infirm couple ahead of me in the checkout line, slowly and carefully lifted each purchase out of their cart. A laborious process for both, it took them ages to empty their cart.

 I thought because she-- his wife, I am assuming-- was standing behind the cart, that she was in charge of pushing it forward as they progressed.  Not so. The cart did not move forward and therefore, I could not begin to empty my own. The husband was standing ahead of her and their cart. When he had finished fumbling with his credit card and they were finally checked out, he reached back to pull the cart gently forward while his wife, her fingers clutching the rail, her feet somewhat dragging, moved haltingly along behind him.

I watched them leave, the man pulling the grocery-laden cart, the woman, leaning forward, supported by the rail.

My head? I went from annoyance and impatience: why did I choose this line? I am going to be late if they don’t get moving. To curiosity: is there something the matter with these old people? To a kind of sadness: They are both so very old and wobbly. To, ultimately, a surge of respect for their enormous effort, their heroic steps to forge ahead in life. They had left home and safety to purchase their food.

In a few minutes I had shifted from being an absolute crank to having a heart full of compassion for those two people.

Perhaps some of you move to compassion more swiftly than I or possibly inhabit compassion 24/7, in which case, God bless you, you are healing the world. I can be a bit slow sometimes, but these days, instead of berating myself, I thank God that I do get there, most of the time, and that I am aware of my process as I move from one emotional state to another.

 Over time, I have learned to be gentler with myself and I am grateful for self-compassion when I allow it to arise.

***

American compassion continues to flow to the Ukraine.

***

Looking To Develop More Self-Compassion?

Check out Unleash Potential, offering personal growth groups in Fairfield on the first Thursday of the month. Experts, Caroline J. Temple and Lisa Jacoby, are the compassionate leaders of Unleash Potential and my companions on this journey of reflection and self-discovery.  Click here for more: http://www.unleashpotential.us/events/

A Quick Note

Good Morning Readers: 

FYI:

 I am pleased to report that as of this morning there are now eleven readers of Life Opening Up in the Ukraine. Not a word from anyone, but I continue to hope.

At least the eleven are receiving from us---thanks to your comments-- our prayers and hopes for resolution and peace in their country.