A Horse With No Name

Every man is divinity in disguise.
It is God playing the fool.

~Emerson

“I See You” by MHopkins © 2014

Now I’ve been up close and personal with some animals—dogs, cats, monkeys, raccoons, bears, even some endangered species like the lynx and bobcat that visit my land—but never a horse...in the middle of the road...on a dark and snowy night.

I suppose stranger things have happened.

‘Twas the night before the night before Christmas, and I was on my way home from a holiday musical extravaganza sponsored by the Unity Church of Boulder.

With a new moon rising and snow clouds hanging low in the sky, visibility was limited as I wound my way up the familiar stretch of Boulder Canyon toward my home. Sticking close to the canyon wall, I drove through the snow, all the while contemplating the meaning of “Unity.” What does it really mean—this concept of oneness?

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I came upon a horse running wildly back-and-forth across the narrow, two-lane road, sliding as she maneuvered uphill in the snow. The unexpected sight of her scared me half to death; she was scared, too. So I stopped and turned on my hazard lights, not sure what to do next, but this much I knew: Boulder Canyon is no place for a horse, especially at night when it’s snowing.

For a brief moment I watched her and, she, looking over her shoulder, watched me. And then I did the only thing I could think of to do: I rolled down my window and talked to her.

“Don’t be scared . . . I’m not going to hurt you,” I said softly. “Please, you have to get out of the road before you cause an accident.”

She stopped running, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Please, come here . . . you have to get out of the road,” I pleaded.

Slowly, she turned and walked toward me.

“Come here, girl, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you,” I continued, coaxing her with promises of safety while holding out my hand to her through the open window.

She approached my car, towering high above it, and lowered her head to meet me at eye level. As I reached out to touch the side of her face I saw something in her eyes that moved me. In that moment, I caught a glimpse of her spirit and I understood with acute awareness what I had only intellectualized until then—that the same life force that moved through her flowed through me. The same vital energy that animated her form, gave life to mine, albeit in different packages.

It was as if time stood still for me and that horse on the canyon. I whispered, “I see you.”

Just then a car came barreling around the corner and slammed on the brakes. My new friend freaked out and started running around my car. She had no bridle or halter to grab, so there was little I could do but work out a plan with the man in the car behind me to get the horse out of the road. We agreed—he would stay with the horse and warn oncoming cars with flashing lights, and I would drive the remaining three miles up the canyon and get the local police to help us.

The rest of the story played out like a scene from The Andy Griffith Show. I ran into the police station and exclaimed with excitement: “There’s a horse in the middle of the canyon.” To which the officer replied, “Yeah, what does the horse look like?”  

Four legs a tail and a gorgeous mane?  So I described the horse and told them of the man I had left behind on the canyon waiting for help, and I discovered that the officers knew the horse—or at least they knew the horse’s guardian—and they followed me out to remedy the situation. The horse was rescued. Crisis averted. It was surreal.

Later, as I pulled into my driveway, I could not shake the intensity of my experience with that horse—the moment of connection with her living spirit. What a precious gift to see and truly understand the essence of this spiritual principle, which reminds us that we are all unique expressions of the same Creative Source, interconnected with everyone and everything else. Call that Source whatever you like—God, Allah, Great Spirit, Creator, the “Big C”—it matters not, because there is only One from which all things flow.

You are at once a beating heart

and a single heartbeat in the body called humanity.

~Dr. Wayne Dyer

Oneness is a concept emphasized by many, and has been, perhaps, one of the toughest ideas for me to wrap my mind around. It is simple enough in theory to say that we’re all one, but when I see my neighbor in his yard shoveling snow and I’m standing across the street in my own yard—physically separate from him—it’s hard to make the connection. It is especially challenging for me to find the common thread when I look at the most vile criminal offenders—rapists, murderers and child molesters—for it is here that I am most keen to distinguish myself in every conceivable way. It’s even more difficult to conceptualize my oneness with the creek flowing through my back yard or the horse in the middle of the canyon, particularly when I consider the differences in our physical constitutions.

To grasp this concept requires that we open our minds and see beyond our physical limitations. Analogies help. For instance, if I pour wine from a bottle into your glass, what do you have? A glass of wine—the same wine that’s still in the bottle, only now a portion of it has been transferred to another container. The same is true of me, the horse and the vital energy that flows through us, bringing our “containers” to life. True, our containers are quite different and come with unique bells and whistles—in that way, we’re definitely not the same—but we come from One, which makes us all related in a wonderfully abstract way.

Spiritual teachers and mystics across time have urged us to consider that what we do to one we do to all; that we cannot hurt another without also, in some way, hurting ourselves. And while many of us may find it easy to extend that thought pattern and courtesy to a handful of people we're close to (our immediate family and loved ones) how often do we reach out to help strangers or animals or the environment in the spirit of unity and oneness?

And so this was my Gift of the Magi—wisdom and recognition shared between a girl and a horse on a dark canyon road, and now I pass it on to you.

As we begin a new year, may you connect with the peace that comes with understanding your connection to the One.

Seeds of Change

You know how if you plant seeds,

it takes time for the fruits of the seeds

to push up through the ground’s surface?

Same goes for the changes you want to manifest.

They take time to see.

~Karen Salmansohn

The thing about seeds is that they don’t grow overnight. You can plant them, water them—even talk to them—and you get nothing, or at least that’s how it seems. But there’s business going on underground: roots are forming, intertwining with others for mutual support and growth, while decisions are being made about how many flowers, or apples, or tomatoes will grow from that seed. Then one day, just when you thought nothing was happening—BAM! Signs of life emerge from the ground, reaching for the sunlight. Suddenly, it all makes perfect sense.

So it is with you and me.  Dreams are our seeds of change.  Words are also seeds, and when dropped into the ether, whether spoken or held deeply in our spirit, they grow and bring forth their kind.  Nothing grows without a seed.  Nothing changes without a dream.  And as we move deeper into fall, I’m reminded how temporary it all is. Seasons change. People come and go. Time marches on, waiting for no one, yet moving us forward in rhythm with the silent longings of our hearts.

Just as the Aspen leaves turn green, then gold, falling to the ground with winter’s early warning, I’m reminded that we, too, must first die to one life before experiencing the new growth of spring.  We must clear space; shed a part of what we know and make room for what we want to create. We know it’s coming; we’ve longed for it.  Yet so often we fear the change we seek.

Consider the Aspen—do you think it spends the winter fearing that it will never again experience the joy of having beautiful leaves adorn its branches? Questioning the essence of its being? Wishing things were different? Regretting having done what is in its nature to do? I think not.  It’s rather like they are hibernating, conserving energy for the new cycle of life that will emerge come spring.

Why should it be any different with people? Consider what you do between cycles of change, waiting for your seeds to grow. How do you fill your time? What do you give your energy to?

When you’re moving through change, yet you can’t quite see the end result, do you live in fear that where you are is all your life will ever be? Or do you get busy doing what you can to organize yourself, energize your thoughts, and develop a good plan to support your change as you move forward?

All changes, even the most longed for, 
have their melancholy;

for what we leave behind is part of ourselves;

we must die to one life before we can enter into another.

~Anatole France

Even when change comes from a conscious choice to restructure some aspect of our life—to let go of a dead-end relationship, change careers, start a family, create a new business or embark on a great travel adventure—it is tempting to spend our time in an anxious state, questioning our decisions, worrying that it will all go horribly wrong; expecting signs of new life to emerge immediately on the heels of our decision to change, just after planting the seeds.

But if we could step back and observe ourselves from a distance, we would see that we aren’t done yet: We are still moving toward a destination that we can’t quite see because we’re consumed with the day-to-day experience of our change, slowed by the natural timing of things; like watching seeds grow underground.

Remember: To everything there is a reason, a season, a cycle and right timing. Work with the energy of change, not against it. Be patient and mindful of life’s rhythms.  Use down time to improve where you can, turning weaknesses into strengths.  And prepare yourself, for a bright new tomorrow will emerge just as surely as the snow falls on changing leaves.

Will you be ready?

What If . . .

There isn’t enough room

in your mind

for worry and faith.

You must decide

which will live there.

(unknown)

Tortured - MHopkins - Trim Castle, Ireland © 2014

I passed a neighborhood church with a sign that read:  “Worry is the dark room where negatives develop.”  Something in its message resonated to my core, not because I’m a worrier by nature but because, when I do, the train of “what if’s” can carry me to a dark and fearful place in a flash.  It’s not logical.

Like one of my students who, after nearly making herself sick with worry, suffering from insomnia and a whole host of physical symptoms that mirrored her chaotic mental state, confessed that she was worried that if she didn’t do well on the LSAT she would never be able to buy her own home.  What?  Let’s unravel that thought process; break it down for me.  I insisted.  She explained that if she didn’t rock the LSAT then she wouldn’t get into law school.  If she didn’t make it to law school she would never realize her dream of being a lawyer.  If not a lawyer, she wouldn’t make enough money to support a mortgage payment.  In a world full of homeowners who are not lawyers, it was easy to see the fault in her logic.  But it wasn’t logic that cast such a dark shadow on her thoughts. 

It reminds me of the parable about the young business man traveling along an unfamiliar road in rural America when he was stopped by a flat tire.  He couldn’t find a jack in his rental car, and it was impossible to change a tire without a jack, so he set off on foot for the closest home or business where he might ask to borrow a jack or at least a phone to call for help since his cell phone didn't have service.  As he walked, he imagined his conversation with the homeowner ending in rejection.  “No I don’t have a jack.”  “No you can’t use my phone.” And so on.  At one point, he even had an argument with the man he had yet to meet who had yet to refuse him help.  By the time he arrived at the nearest house and knocked on the door, he was so bent with anger and frustration that when the homeowner opened the door he screamed, “Never mind!” and walked away in search of someone who would help.

Worry, at best, is a misuse of the imagination!  At worst, it is the shackle that keeps us trapped in self-doubt and defeat.  Either you have some control over the situation or you don’t.  If you don’t, all the worrying in the world won’t make it so.  So next time you find yourself chasing that parade of horribles, ponder this:  What if all went pleasingly well?  What if you realized your greatest success? What if most of the things you’re worrying about never happen? 

What if…

Stepping Into the Future

The future is something which everyone reaches

at the rate of sixty minutes an hour,

whatever he does,

whoever he is.

~C.S. Lewis

Mooghaun Hillfort - Dromoland, Ireland
(MHopkins 2013)

People speak of “putting the past behind us”.  But where else can the past be put?  It has only one place it belongs and, once there, can only be a reference point for the future.  Yet we make it a part of our present by clinging so tightly to our experience.  We go round and round in our heads, remembering some conversation, slight or injustice, real or imagined, and we stay stuck in that feedback loop reliving it again and again, often exaggerated and out of context because now we’re focused on some isolated aspect of our otherwise fading memory, giving it life, meaning and a whole host of expressions that perhaps never were.   Imagine what we miss while running around the same tired circles!

Can you see it?  How clinging to an aspect of our past might prevent us from seizing something wonderful that is available to us in the here and now?  Consider this: 

A new form of clinical psychology known as acceptance and commitment therapy (ACT) stems from the understanding that a great deal of our psychological pain comes not so much from the experience itself, but from the words we use over and over to describe our experience.  Instead of getting stuck in our heads and avoiding any real forward movement, ACT encourages acceptance of the situation, conscious choice of direction and action, bringing more meaning and psychological flexibility into our lives in the process.

In his book Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life, author and ACT co-founder, Steven Hayes, suggests that we can actually repeat a troubling word or concept over and over until it loses meaning and power in our lives.  Take the word grass, for instance.  Hayes recommends repeating the word over and over for 49 seconds.  Grass, grass, grass, grass, grass, grass…  The theory is that at some point, your mind will stop associating ‘grass’ with the luscious green stuff and observe it as a meaningless noise.  This disconnect between words and reality will allow us to drop those mind movies that have been tormenting us.  Why not give it a go,  beginning with ‘grass’ or some other word of your choosing and then moving on to the more emotionally charged descriptors that unnerve you, like ‘rejection’ or ‘failure’ or ‘broke,’ or any other parade of horrible that you can conjure.  The idea is to rub out the sting these words carry so that you can deal with life free from the fear created by your internal dialogue from the past.  Sound feasible? 

Diagnosis, they say, is half the cure.  But we’re best careful with how we use our diagnosis lest it becomes the story we tell about our life, the reason for why we can’t have or be or do what we want.  For just as understanding the root of our problem paves the way for setting it right, so too can it provide a ready excuse for not living our best life.

Is there something that you’re ready to put down, let go of, and leave behind?  Are you ready to reach for something new and make it real in your life?  As you move into a great new year, now is a perfectly fine opportunity to trade what torments for something more solid and real so that it becomes part of your future.

Wishing you all the best in 2014!

LOOK WHERE YOU WANT TO GO

Why would you give your precious life energy . . .

to something you [don’t] want?

~Dr. Wayne Dyer

The Road Less Traveled
Connemara Region, Ireland © 2013 MHopkins

While learning to ride her motorcycle, my mother decided to practice in their neighborhood.  Having made the loop, she topped the hill and came to a stop, preparing to make a left turn.  That’s when she saw it—the neighbor’s mailbox just across the way—and though she tried not to look at the mailbox and, instead, focus on the road before her, as she turned left, eyes still on the mailbox, she veered off course and crashed…into the neighbor’s mailbox; the very thing she wanted to avoid.

There is a golden rule of motorcycle riding that says “look where you want to go.”  Though she knew it in theory, my mother learned this the hard way.  There are many long and complicated theoretical reasons why this rule of riding might be true, but none that make any real sense except the idea of target fixation, which says, in essence, that what you focus on expands. 

And so it is in our every day lives.  How often do we repeat some aspect of the past or dwell on the negative parts of our situation and then find ourselves faced with more of what we don’t want, instead of giving attention to what we would most like to create and then taking small steps each day to make that vision our reality?  Maybe we’re unhappy in our relationship or we dislike our job or we don’t like the extra weight we’re carrying around like a spare tire, yet instead of creating a positive plan of how to get from here to there we focus in on what we don’t like, complaining or feeling sorry for ourselves, repeating the same bad habits, or avoiding the discomfort of change, and so we keep driving our proverbial motorcycles around and crashing into the same mailboxes. 

It is impossible to be angry and laugh at the same time.

Anger and laughter are mutually exclusive

and you have the power to choose either.

~Wayne Dyer

Choice is the essence of our free will, and it is through our choices that we direct the course of our lives.  While we may disagree with the actions of others and even dislike our own circumstances, we have the right, power and opportunity to make choices every day—the attitude we adopt, how we respond to the world around us, where we place our attention, the thoughts we entertain, what we take responsibility for, the meaning we give to the events of our lives, and what or to whom we give our power.  It’s all energy, and the lightness or heaviness of that energy determines much about our physical, mental and spiritual health. 

Take another look down the road you're traveling.  Do you really want to go there?

The Bright Side

Promise Yourself . . .

To be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.  

To talk health, happiness and prosperity to every person you meet.

To make all your friends feel that there is something in them. 

To look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.

 

To think only of the best, work only for the best and to expect only the best.  

To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others are you are about your own.

 

To forget the mistakes of the past and to press on to the greater achievements of the future. 

To wear a cheerful countenance at all times and give every living creature you meet a smile.  

To give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others.

 

To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

~The Optimist Creed, Optimist International

I once quit the Optimist Club because it was too negative!

New to the Gulf Coast of Florida, I had looked for a good civic group to join that would be meaningful, engaging, and helpful in learning about my community while meeting like-minded others.  Hey, I’m an optimist, I thought; what better group to join than the Optimist Club!  Then one day, a few months in, the President of the chapter came up with this “brilliant” idea to increase membership:  we would take turns carrying around a brick until each member brought in at least one new member.  Now I’m sure this doesn’t represent all chapters of this wonderful club, but WOW!  What a heavy load!  I barely knew anyone in town—part of the reason I had joined the group in the first place—and after an unsuccessful attempt to get a waiver from this dismal approach, I quit.

Not entirely surprising because I tend to run from the negative, choosing instead those friends and associations that lift me up and inspire with positivity.  A bit of a dichotomy, really, when I consider the way that I have to approach my work as a lawyer—looking at the contract, deal or business strategy with a critical eye, which allows me to consider all potential outcomes—good and bad—and advise my clients of the consequences of their decisions.  Yet for much of my life, when making personal decisions, I brushed aside anything negative, focusing only on the great and wonderful outcomes that would surely follow my next great step.  This is a poor business plan and a terrible life strategy because when things run amok, as they sometimes do, instead of working out as I envision, I have a tough time adjusting to the reality.

I read somewhere that having an over-abundance of optimism in the “it-won’t-happen-to-me” sort of mindset can be detrimental to our sense of wellbeing, and as harmful to longevity as high blood pressure and cholesterol!  In fact, studies have shown that those who operate with extreme optimism experience more difficulty rebounding from set backs, which I have experienced first hand, because we get stuck on a mental track of “I can’t believe that happened to me!  Why me?”

So a little worry can be helpful when channeled into productive action, like having a Plan B or creating a Will or making peace with getting older while you’re still young, or allowing your thoughts to follow the chain of "what if" while maintaining faith that no matter what happens, you're going to be okay—all great building blocks for our peace of mind; and very different from dwelling in the negative, which we know causes excessive stress, impacts our health and affects our mind and spirit in often undesirable and unintended ways.     

What kind of bricks are you carrying?  

What Remains

“All I have seen teaches me

to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

What nobody says about faith is that even in the most idyllic, peaceful of circumstances—when you somehow find a way to stand firm in your belief that you are where you need to be at any given time experiencing what you need to experience—having absolute faith in a process for which there is no guarantee can be a tumultuous proposition at best. 

 

Something good happens.  Let’s say you land your dream job with a little elbow grease but, in all honesty, not much effort on your part.  Perhaps they sought you out (the job literally fell in your lap) and you’re certain that it’s divinely inspired.  Your income and notoriety is on the rise, shining star that you are, and you are certain you are where you need to be.  Your faith is unstoppable! 

 

Then something bad happens.  Let’s say you find yourself on the receiving end of a cancer diagnosis.  Though aggressive, there are some good treatment options and so you roll up your sleeves and embark on the journey of a lifetime to beat that cancer and say YES to life!  But not before you go through a vigorous round of "Why me?" and "What did I ever do to deserve this?", spinning out in your mind with those counterproductive questions for which there are no immediate answers but which are, nevertheless, inevitable given the circumstances of your Life. 

 

Some people want to know that nothing happens by chance—not without their prior consent anyway (in this or another life)—a belief that puts us in the driver's seat and makes us responsbile for what happens to us because somehow in someway we had a hand in creating that experience, karmic or otherwise.  New age philosophies champion this concept, fending off skeptics who quesiton "Why in the world would I ever choose that?" with a quiet, confident reply:  you chose to have that experience before you were born, while still in spirit form, to further your soul's growth.    

 

Others say, “Well, it was God’s will...” when something bad happens, or "God was really looking out for me!" when forturne favors us, which, on some level, allows us to resign responsibility. But what does that really mean?  That it was God's will for you, his lovely and perfect creation, to get cancer? Or that God was looking out for you when you narrowly avoided that car crash, but not so much looking out for that child in Cambodia who was sold into slavery by her parents or that person you know battling cancer?  Why not?  Why would God so randomly distribute good will, selecting who gets to be happy or sad, healthy or sick, advantaged or disadvantaged and so on?  Weren't we all created equally and loved unconditionally?  How are those decisions made?  That one person is faced with a fight to live and another gets chosen for their dream job?   It hardly seems fair.

 

Either way, it seems to me that Life doesn’t much care how “in control” we think ourselves to be.  We’re all tested in one way or another, and if we are faithful to whatever process or situation we're going through we will discover our strength, deepen our faith, and learn something about how well we cope with the obstacles and struggles that come our way.  If we want to be rid of the latter we need only accept that it’s not only impossible but completely unnecessary to hold on so tight in an effort to control that which we have so little control over.  For the only thing that most of us have any real control over in this life is how we think, what we do on a day-to-day basis, and how we respond to the story unfolding around us.  

 

Perhaps that's why they say that struggle is sometimes necessary but always optional.

 

Consider, for instance, the quiet, detached faith it takes to grow something—anything—like a walnut tree, a process that can take 40 to 60 years to fully develop from planting to harvest. Depending on when you plant that seed you may or may not live to see it become all that it was meant to be. Mostly, I think, folks don't spin around with thoughts about whether that tree will grow or harbor feelings of persecution if it doesn't.  You plant that tree with every faith in its life and growth, maybe to benefit your children or grandchildren; perhaps for a lucrative harvest.  And if it doesn't work out?  Maybe you plant another tree.

 

In the end, whether you’re there to witness its final glory or simply rest in the knowledge that you had a hand in creating its beauty, the shade and loveliness that drapes the next generation is evidence of your fearless faith in the process of Life. That might just be the key.

What Are We So Afraid Of?

Fear is the cheapest room in the house.

I would like to see you living in better conditions.

~ Hafiz

Along Came A Spider.

A few weeks ago while working my volunteer shift at Children’s Hospital Colorado, I received a special request to sit with a little girl in one of the  9th floor rooms.  Her parents were working and couldn’t be there; she had been alone for most of the day.

From the minute I sat down in that rocking chair, she curled her little body into mine and looked up at me with those big eyes that seemed to say, “what now?”  I suppose it didn’t matter because she already had what she most wanted in that moment—human touch can heal in ways that medicine can’t—and so I searched my repertoire for anything that might entertain and amuse.

I sang a few songs (amusing); recited some limericks (entertaining), and then I came upon Little Miss Muffet floating around up there in my memory bank.  Remember that old nursery rhyme?

Little Miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet,

Eating her curds and whey;

Along came a spider,

Who sat down beside her

And frightened Miss Muffet away

~ Songs for the Nursery (1805)

I’ve known this rhyme for years, but as the words formed on my lips, for the first time, I thought about the implications.  The spider merely sat down beside her and it frightened her away.  Really?  Arachnophobia aside, are we that easily scared of possibility? 

It made me think about the way we all carry fear in our hearts of some kind--real or imagined--for things that may never come to pass, yet in everyday ways we let those fears direct our course.   Like when we withhold our opinions for fear of rocking the boat; or stick with something or someone that may not be best for our lives because we’re afraid of change; or when we choose not to try something new because we might not like it.  But what if we loved it?  What if it changed our lives in amazing and unforeseen ways?  What if that spider became Miss Muffet’s best friend and side-kick?

I once read that lurking behind every fear is an all-pervasive thought of “I can’t handle it.”  Yet we’re so much stronger than we think--we CAN handle it--and sometimes by facing into our fears instead of running from them or avoiding, we learn more about ourselves and what we’re capable of doing, creating, becoming.

What are we so afraid of?