Walking in my chosen highway

Friday morning the morning air was full of ice crystals--a million tiny crystals floating haphazardly in all directions like a frenzy of insects, wings sparks of sunlight in motion. The blue shadows of trees arced their long, willowy blue arms across a bed of freshly fallen snow. Outside the wind's percussion played through the branches of bare trees. Snow slowly melted, dripped, re-froze--a tiny drumbeat of ice to water to ice.

Later in the afternoon as shadows began to pull chunks of heavy hues between buildings, I made my way downtown to my favourite German bakery, Leonhard's for a hot drink and some time to write in my journal. Leonhard's is all fairy lights and birch trees. I settled in a corner seat and watched as the soft flakes that had been wet against my cheeks a moment earlier on the pavement began to fall heavier and more steadily. I was thinking about joy. About how to hold it close in my mind and heart most especially when things are not going how I think I would like them to go.

I came across this story recently that described some advice that Abdu'l-Baha, the son of Baha'u'llah, Founder of the Baha'i Faith, gave to Lua Getsinger, an early North American Baha'i during one of her visits to the Middle East. He told her: "Thou must be firm and unshakable in thy purpose, and never, never let any outward circumstances worry thee. I am sending thee to India to accomplish certain definite results. Thou must enter that country with a never-failing spirituality, a radiant faith, an eternal enthusiasm, an inextinguishable fire, a solid conviction, in order that thou mayest achieve those services for which I am sending thee. Let not thy heart be troubled. If thou goest away with this unchanging condition of invariability of inner state, thou shalt see the doors of confirmation open before thy face, thy life will be a crown of heavenly roses, and thou shalt find thyself in the highest station of triumph.

Strive day and night to attain to this exalted state. Look at me! Thou dost not know a thousandth part of the difficulties and seemingly insurmountable passes that rise daily before my eyes. I do not heed them: I am walking in my chosen highway."

I love this quote because it is quite clear from it that Abdu'l-Baha was very definitely walking his chosen highway both during the tough times and the joyful times. He was walking in his CHOSEN highway during the tough times. It is hard to recognize that we are always walking in our chosen highway whether times are happy or sad, stressful or relaxing, easy or hard. It is easier to believe that when we are walking through tough times we are not on our chosen highway -- that somehow God or fate or some other power is dragging us, kicking and screaming down a highway that we most certainly DID NOT choose--a highway that is NOT our will. What I realize in reading the quote above is that Abdu'l-Baha can honestly say that he is always walking in his chosen highway because he has recognized and fully accepted a truth that I will be working on for the rest of my life: that the only way to know with absolute certainty that one is walking one's chosen highway is to bring one's will completely into line with the will of God so that there is no separation, no distinction between what we want in our lives and what God wants. All that is left for us to do then is to find and share the joy that is always within us with those around us irrespective of the circumstances we are living through. I am not saying that is easy--it is hard as hell. But there is something beautiful about being able to align one's will with a larger will, and step back from what is happening around you and see it for what it is: a passing state that need not influence your inner joy or peace.

I have been working on all of this the past couple of weeks. I arrived on Prince Edward Island in Atlantic Canada on December 28th hoping to find a way to stay. It may happen yet. I am praying it does. But in the meantime I have a departure ticket for February 14th and a great deal of uncertainty about what comes after that date. In the past this reality would have caused me a great deal of anxiety. But in the light of this quote above, which I have been reading multiple times throughout the day over the last week, whenever I notice myself starting to get anxious about all of the uncertainty in my life right now I am able to consciously focus on letting it go....focus instead on the only thing I really do have control over: how I respond. It is an interesting process, but what I am finding is that being more conscious to remain joyful even through the uncertainty is helping me to realize how ridiculous worrying about whether I manage to stay or not is, because no matter how hard I work on finding work here, ultimately the outcome of this adventure I am on is completely and utterly out of my hands, and no amount of worry is going to put my fate in my hands. Fortunately (for me and everyone else!) I am not in control of the fates. That is for a power much larger than me to take care of.

I am sitting here by the fire typing this. My hosts have gone to bed. The house is quiet. The streets in this part of town are also quiet at this time of night. The silence of a cold winter night has settled upon the street. Soon I will head up to bed and lie in the stillness listening to the wind outside. Being here is like being enveloped in a very long, very good dream. For however long it lasts -- a few more weeks or longer--I feel incredibly blessed to be here on this beautiful island surrounded by so many people I love. What a gift this winter journey has been. What a blessing it continues to be with every new day!

Have a superb week, friends!

In the beginning

In the beginning of anything new it takes a lot of hard work for very little reward, sometimes for a very long time. Last week I planted seeds in the youth garden that I volunteer in. And yesterday, after I finished a morning on the farm teaching 6th graders about tomatoes and peppers and harvesting with them, I walked over to the bed that I had seeded last week to see how everything was doing. From a distance, nothing. But up close:

This week I worked on three tea descriptions that will be printed on packages of tea for a small company back on Prince Edward Island, in Canada, and a story about a local artisan chocolate producer here in Sacramento for Artisan's Table, an online site that connects customers to artisan producers all over the country. I know my food and travel writing is slowly improving, but it feels like I am taking such incredibly small steps towards my goal at times that it is hard to imagine my writing career reaching maturity and bearing fruit in the way I envision.

Fortunately I have farming. Farming gives me hope that all the attention and energy I am putting into my writing will pay off in the long-term. That I will complete my research and finish a first draft of my novel, and that it will someday be published, read and enjoyed.

When I got down on my knees on the earth path between rows and saw the tiny seedlings pressing up out of the soil I felt my entire body breathe a sigh of relief. Somehow the growth of the plants made all the uncertainty in the rest of my life right now alright.

The pump was down yesterday, so I hand watered everything, watching the soil get dark and the water pool in the areas where the bed was slightly lower than the rest. The sun shone through the spray, radiating rainbows into the hot air.

Being able to see progress in the garden tells me that there is undoubtedly progress happening on all fronts, even though I cannot see it.

Last night my dad and I walked home from a restaurant we had gone out to dinner at. It was a lovely evening, the sky was crisp and clear, and the moon was big and luminous, spilling her light through the oak trees, over the black asphalt, the cracked pavement and the wet lawns in front of every house on the street. Watching the moon I felt this deep sense of peace and rootedness. I was on the pavement in Sacramento, but I was also sitting inside my own house back on PEI looking out my huge windows on new year's eve two years ago making a wish that led me west while the moon flooded the living room, and climbing the terraces on Mount Carmel in Haifa, Israel on the last night of my pilgrimage with the cool stone beneath my bare feet and the sound of fountains bubbling, water streaming past me down the mountain, the call to prayer from a nearby mosque and the pale moon the colour of sun-lit wheat above me, keeping watch as I climbed up towards the Shrine of the Bab.

It is Friday afternoon. Many of my friends are attending a conference this weekend in Moncton, New Brunswick. I did not realize how much I wanted to be there until today, when I started noticing that my heart was just not in my work, and then found myself checking out plane tickets to Moncton -- leaving today. Yeah, I know. Flying across the continent for a weekend with one day's notice...totally unrealistic. I spent the rest of the day struggling through my work, and challenging myself to stay present even though I so wanted to be on the last flight that would have gotten me to Moncton by tomorrow morning. It left at 2pm this afternoon.

This year has included a lot of sacrifice of good times. Travel. Conferences. Dinners out. But more importantly it has included lots of opportunities to learn that in order to succeed, my body and my mind and heart all have to be in one time zone. For example today my heart really wanted to jump that 2pm flight to Moncton. But it would have been leaving my body behind, and how enjoyable would my company have been all weekend with my heart on the opposite side of the continent?

So instead I am staying put. Watering the garden. Going to a devotional gathering. Doing yoga in the park. Talking a walk with a friend, and doing some reading and writing. My life this year has none of the international jet setting that is my norm. Most of what I do fill my days with right now falls way below the socially exciting radar. But there is growth happening. Humble, ordinary, gradual and slow, but growth nevertheless. And I am thinking that is what I need right now, as much as I fight it.

Beginnings require a lot of focus and energy. A lot of TLC. They are a lot like these seedlings, really. Lots of potential, but none of it will be realized if we stop watering them daily at this point. 

Are you working on developing something new in your life? A new relationship/career/journey or even Fall garden? How do you go about nurturing it and staying committed in the initial phases of growth when the proportion of energy going into it is much greater than the perceivable results? 

Have a great weekend, friends! See you on Monday!