Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

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cashews, watermelon, & ancient stoic wisdom

Do you ever wake up and think, Man from now on I will live off of cashews and watermelon. Just send me outside, that’s all I need.

Summer is taking hold here now, and I have these moments often. My heart opens generously, my mind is pliable and calm and trembling with ideas, all at once, and my body’s needs simplify.

Sometimes the chickens eat breakfast out of watermelon rinds.

Cashews, watermelon, and limitless hours of sunshine. Okay, maybe also some lake running and trail hiking, a few excellent mugs of dark coffee, a big clean swimming pool, and thin cotton pajamas for wearing after a very good, scrubby shower, which you take only after a long day of gardening and running. Maybe a stack of books and journals. Oh! Also friends and family for bonfire conversation and the new Top Gun movie with greasy popcorn and sticky red Twizzlers.

And suddenly I am Steve Martin’s character Navin Johnson from The Jerk who leaves with just this ashtray, that’s all he needs! I feel so sad every time I think of him lugging around his miscellaneous treasures, dog nipping and barking, but really wasn’t it wasteful to have a disco room in his mansion? And I am very thankful for our modern consumer protections which will hopefully keep us all from going cross eyed from wearing new inventions like his.

I digress.

Wait, also, in addition to Top Gun, what other movies were you excited to see this summer, that are being released late thanks to the pandemic?

There is something else I want to talk to you about. I came across it while soaking up some ancient stoics’ teachings, and I think it is so useful anytime, but especially now: “Amor Fati,” translated from Latin as “a love of fate.” This is, “the state in which one is in friendly acceptance of fate… the consummate achievement of human life, and the only path to happiness.”  

How does this strike you? Let me expound just a tad, then answer again, in case at first blush it feels too much like, “bloom where you are planted,” which I know has some negative vibes surrounding it, as if we are resigning to something we don’t choose for ourselves. Okay:

Marcus Aurelius is one of the stoics credited for loving the concept of Amor Fati. He had a perspective that demanded we use all of our circumstances, the good and the bad, the ugly and unexpected, as kindling for our inner fire. A podcast on this topic offered that analogy. On Daily Stoic, I heard the host say, “Everything you throw in front of a fire becomes fuel for the fire. A person who is hungry, who can make use of everything that happens to them, that’s the person who gets better and better.”

Another echo I am hearing for Amor Fait is the ever so soothing encouragement, “Smile at the thought.” I first heard this through a running blogger’s mom, who told her daughter to deal with anxieties by literally, physically with her face, smiling every time a negative situation presented itself in her mind. Over time it rewires your thoughts and emotions to connect with that problem in a more positive way. This is a great tactic, and I use it often, though I will admit that at first it feels a bit maniacal, ha. Stick with it.

None of these are exercises in resignation or abandonment of our own drives and ambitions. I am so not into promoting self-flagellation. To me, it’s feels like the exact opposite. Amor Fati feels like taking control of our attitude, intentions, and energies and using every circumstance in life to our advantage, accepting as gifts all that what we are given and putting those gifts to work. It feels like an invitation to make something beautiful out of what might be seen as scraps and obstacles, throwaways and even dead stops.

The obstacle is the way.

Friendly acceptance, not begrudging compliance. This tweak provides such a lift!

Starting over, employing our ingenuity and tenacity, building and rebuilding as often as necessary to design ever more beautiful mosaics from shattered pieces rather than forever mourning the broken plates. This is a transformative approach to the inevitable problems and disappointments in life. Nothing is wasted. We redeem everything, especially time. Waiting for something becomes an invitation to learn or practice something else.

With this approach, the possibilities for growth and improvement are limitless. We are limitless.

I hope that when we are met with roadblocks and disappointments, we cope with them more gracefully than Navin Johnson did. I also hope that we have plenty of cashews and watermelon, if it happens in summertime. It’s the small comforts, after all.

“The obstacle is the way.”
XOXOXOXO

BE ULTRA podcast

Friends!

I recently had the most luscious opportunity to chat with my extraordinary friend Shanna, and our recorded conversation became an episode on her podcast, Be Ultra.

Shanna and I met by chance just a little over a year ago at the inaugural meeting for a new local running club, a club which, it bears mentioning, neither of us joined. But we have been running together, just us!

We enjoyed an instant connection. It has been one of those rare friendships where we only cross paths once in a blue moon, but when we do the time is well spent. We dive deep and fast, and (because we are running friends) the sweat is a great conductor of good vibes.

Something I love about Shanna is how genuinely interested she is in other people’s stories. It’s her vocation, sure, being a suicide prevention therapist, but clearly it is also her nature. And she shares as well as she listens, which is why I think you’ll love this podcast episode. It is less of a Q & A about me and much more an authentic exchange between two people just living life and grappling with the universal stuff.

I hope you’ll give it a listen, friends!

We talk about this farm and our evolving purpose here, a little bit of our history. We also cover family life and raising daughters, trauma, spiritual guidance and discerning God’s voice and finding peace day to day, running injuries, human resiliency, the Law of Attraction and Mitt Romney and contradicting energies, the healing power of nature, and more. Toward the end, we begin assembling a recommended reading list, but it’s incomplete. You can look for that to be shared here soon!

Shanna is so fun to just be near (at a safe distance this time, ha!), I wish you could feel her personal energy. Ok. If you listen let us know what you think. And we will talk again soon!

Shanna, I know we will run together again, eventually. And I really hope that once the covid-19 quarantine is winding down you will visit the farm for an especially long dinner and bonfire and many more hours of deep conversation. You and her husband and your kiddos will fit in here so perfectly!

UBUNTU:
I am because we are.
XOXOXOXO

recalling the powers of “what if” & a reminder to choose joy

Following several days of pure bliss, I succumbed on Sunday to a few hours of good ol’ fashioned What If Anxiety. I kept forgetting to breathe, as my husband calls it. It was a trifecta of external stimuli: a couple of failed side dishes I had cooked for beloved friends (minor in the scheme of things but disappointing); a rouge, really violent hailstorm that did some mean damage to my beloved vegetable and flower gardens; and (the biggest What If of them all) waiting on health news regarding one of our most beloved young people.

I definitely kept forgetting to breathe. My mind kept rolling over the worst case scenarios for each of these, projecting into the future all the most terrible extrapolated consequences: They’ll never come to the farm for dinner again and probably think I am a kitchen fraud. I might as well give up gardening. I am definitely a fraud. She has something very wrong with her health but won’t reach out for help. Then I’d furiously resist those negative thoughts and scold myself for the struggle, because I know better than that by now. And that resistance created more tension. So I ate a second helping of dessert and got mad at myself for that too because vacation is over ma’am and you are so weak and also not a very good runner. Healthy living fraud.

Wow. Only one of those external stressors really mattered to life; but worry has a way of sneaking in through tiny openings to crack open the door and let the big stuff in. Have you ever been in such a tailspin?

As Sunday evening drew to a close, the biggest What If was silenced, and we went to bed thankful and exhausted. We were happy to be home and safe and ready to approach the threshold between all those previous days of bliss and the fresh, brand new work week. I muscled my thoughts back into the light. And I finally remembered to breathe.

?

Monday morning after Handsome left for the Commish, I plunged into all kinds of chores around the house, allowing the physical activity and sweetness of domesticity to drum up more positive vibes. Eventually Klaus and I walked around the farm, just to survey the storm damage with calmer eyes. The weather that morning was much more like early October than June. Bright and crisp, soft breezes, mellow. I could barely relate all of that crystalline brilliance to Sunday’s low, black canopy, woolly humidity, and violent wind and hail. I noticed a clarity inside myself, too. The storm had passed and everything felt fresh and good again.

The facts followed suit. Once I had the fortitude to really examine my gardens, I found only minor damage. Some broken vines and torn leaves, sure, and a few marshy beds that were begging for a stretch of warm sunshine to dry out. But all of it was more of a shakeup than a tragedy. And I had to laugh at my Yesterday Self for being so devastated at nothing. I also had to stop and give lots and lots of thanks for all the good news we had received concerning the much more important worries in life.

So I walked around correcting small injuries to various plants and re-threading tomato vines, harvesting slashed-off zucchini blossoms and deciding that the fallen stone fruits (still unripe) would be great to crush and feed to the hens.

I recalled so many other times in life when my worries turned out to be far scarier than reality. Often the anxiety can be quieted with just some time, some breathing, and lots of deliberate trust. Things really do tend to work out. But resisting fear is different than choosing faith.

Choosing Joy.

How wonderful to remember all of this. The mental games of What If are powerful. It is up to each of us moment by moment to choose to put that power to good use. We can funnel our vast imaginations into fears and worries and extrapolate terrible future chains of events; or we can harness the same exact power inside ourselves and project incredible future outcomes.

We can visualize and aim for beauty, strength, success, progress, healing, connection, abundance, and miracles. We can see the damage and exaggerate it with our dim perspective; or we can see the damage and give thanks that so much can be recovered, that circumstances, just like the weather, can so suddenly turn around.

Choosing our thoughts matters, in case you need the reminder today like I could have used it on Sunday. Our thoughts can steer our feelings and our behavior. They can literally shape both our perspectives and our circumstances along the way.

Choose Joy. It won’t always come easily, but it is always available.

Choose Joy over and over again, no matter how things look and especially now matter how you feel, temporarily.

P.S. This blog post is dedicated to two of my best friends, who could not be more different from each other: Mickey, who had the presence of mind on Sunday to assure me that, in fact, some stress can strengthen plants and trees (so true). And Brittany, whose already gorgeous life is suddenly brimming with some mammoth What Ifs. I am down here in Oklahoma sending up magical possibilities and promises for you friend!

Choose Joy.
Magic is Real.
The Gardens will be Fine.
So Will She.
XOXOXO

more new than ever before

I find myself wondering whether this springtime is among the most luscious of all my life or my eyes and heart are simply more open than ever before. Everything feels new, but more than new; everything has a wet, trembling quality, and it feels like more than just the abundance of rainfall.

When seeds germinate and break through the topsoil lately, they seem to do so with music playing. When the chicks run across their flight pen, they return the other direction a full size bigger. And have you heard the news that one of our young hens has learned to quack, no doubt by living with two ducks? The skies are probably the same colors as before, but more crystalline, more kinetic. The pine trees are growing arms and fingers and reaching for brand new ideas, learning new languages I think. Walking around the farm, you can smell fresh energy like it’s incense or very good cookies and bread baking.

Old thought patterns are falling apart like charred wood, burned (I believe) by truth. And I can leave them where they fall or sweep them up and replace them with better thoughts, stronger ones, more loving ones, more exciting ideas about life and God and all of our complex human relationships. Fear is almost fully edged out now, and the Worry Door has not cracked open in so long.

A new friend recently loaned me her treasured paperback copy of Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. Somehow this author had been completely foreign to me, and now I want time to stop so I can gobble up all of his work, because his term “Christian spirituality” is right on target for my life. Here are a couple of passages that have struck me beautifully this past week:

I believe the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather to have us wasting time. This is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man’s mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God.”

I love that. And it speaks straight to me, because I am such a creature of habit. I thrive on not only physical daily routines but also meditative practices, which certainly have value. But when little interruptions ruffle my feathers or when I am so cemented in habits that I am wasting time, it all has a kind of soundproofing effect between God and me. Don’t get me started on excessive volunteering or millions of obligatory social connections.

Okay, and then this:

Passion is tricky, though. because it can point to nothing as easily as it points to something.

Somewhere around that sentence in the book, Miller describes his thought process around what he would die for and what he is living for. It’s all kind of the front burner for me now. The moments when we might be asked to die for someone or something may come rarely, if ever, but every hour of every day we are actively or passively exchanging both our time and our life force, our God given human energy for something else. We give ourselves away in pieces, big and small, over and over again, and I wonder how many of those transactions are beneath us, how much of it is waste. A lot, you know? Maybe unintentionally? But so very much is exchanged for good, too, for strong, solid, worthwhile purposes. We trade our time and energy and human life force for love of family and friends, for personal passions that are linked directly to some aspect of our creation that leads us right back to God. How thrilling to see that our intrinsic passions can be connections to God and thereby pipelines for more abundant life. I love that we are all created in such unique ways and that He can draw us near and put us to work based on our passions. I want to find more ways to facilitate exactly that.

So. The farm. All of these nine acres are pure joy to me. The creatures who live here, even when they frustrate me, the plants, the wildness, the work and creativity, our romance and our human fabric, all of it. It has become my home and sanctuary, classroom and temple. And for all of the physical, sensory pleasures here, I know in my bones that the real magic is unseen. The real magic and power and drama can easily be extracted and reinvested elsewhere, should that time ever come. This is just the stage.

This is how I know the shimmer and pulse of our current season is owed to more than the mild Oklahoma springtime; God is doing something here with us that brings it all into focus for me. The old fears and worries are burned up and crumbling; worldly distractions are falling back and losing their noisy power in favor of birdsong in the morning and frog symphonies at night. More beauty than I have ever seen is front and center, both for the physical senses and for that part of me that can’t find the words. Hope, joy, belief in the power of Love, compassion for the weird things we all need and chase, patience, silliness, healing. Lots of healing. So much more.

I’ll take the flowers and the vegetables and even the snakes. I’ll take the skies changing and the air tasting like candy, as temporary as it all is. They are outward proof of an unseen Power. For me, this is something worth living for, day after day. Our lives are filled with more goodness than we can manage, despite our efforts to soak it in. And the shifting details just press me to live attentively, to find balance in movement too. It’s all constantly changing and never-ending. Such magic!

Thank you for introducing me to Donald Miller, Stefanie. My mind is churning from it all. Happy weekend, friends. I wish you magic and Love and clear vision.

“You have found the life underneath your life situation.”
~Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now
XOXOXOXO