Lost in Glass -- Presence in Creation

Last week I started a class in stained glass. I signed up for the class for a few reasons. I was feeling the need to expand my creative outlet.  I wanted exposure to new people.  I am interested in a stained glass screen for our over-sized (I mean seriously over-sized) fireplace and was wondering if I could make it myself.  What I got was presence – I was literally lost in glass.

Over the years the best description I ever have come upon for the experience of presence is being lost in doing (or being, of course).  When I think back to experiences when I have been totally (and seemingly effortlessly) present, it has been in the doing of some creative process.  I could tell an outwardly horrifying tale of a time when I melted down all the drywall in a hallway with a wallpaper steamer.  In the moment, the looming disaster never bothered me.  I simply stayed in creative motion by refinishing and then painting the wall.  I never fretted about the outcome.  I never noticed the time.  I was crazy into the doing – and totally present.  I celebrate the memory. 

And there are other presence experiences I recall: writing speeches all night, designing new fitness programs, making drapes . . . in each case I have tapped into my creative self . . . and in each case the common experience is losing track of time.  I become so absorbed in doing that natural curiosity overtakes self judgment.  I am curious in the process and less interested in the outcome.  When I finally do notice the time, it likely is later than I expect.  What joy pure presence releases.   And that joy hangs around like a healthy echo once the doing is done.

I know people who labor toward presence like it is some elusive, mythical creature.  The harder they look, the more perplexed they become in the not finding.  My best advice: instead of pursuing presence, try recalling it.  When in your life have you become so involved in an experience that you lost track of time?  Knowing that presence experience may help you to recreate it at times when you seek grounding and peace. 

When I meditate this week, I’m going to grind glass (in my mind's eye).  I’m going to see the color, feel the vibration of the grinding wheel, enjoy the gentle rhythm of the arc of glass smoothing to fit snuggly into my design.  I am going to celebrate presence in the joy of creating.  And I just know . . . I'm going to lose track of time.

Thought for the day:  “If you are in a state of intense presence you are free of thought, yet 
highly alert. If your conscious attention sinks below a certain level, thought rushes in, the mental noise returns, stillness is lost, you're back in time.”  ~ Eckhart Tolle

After ten years, Mark Greene still dies . . .

My husband and I are re-watching the old television series, ER.  He gave me the series in a DVD set for Christmas two years ago and we pull a season from time to time on a rainy day, when we just want to lose ourselves in a story, and re-live the events of the characters' (incredibly) rich lives.  This weekend we finished season eight.  I knew we would come to it eventually.  I was dreading the episode in which Dr. Mark Greene finally succumbs to brain cancer (the original season eight aired in 2002).  But there it was on Sunday afternoon.


This time -- ten years later -- I was able to view the story line from a somewhat more objective place (though still through tears) -- and heard more of what good Doctor Greene had to say.  One line that really resonated for me came from Greene's departing words to his nemesis, Dr. Kerry Weaver.  In the series, both Greene and Weaver were hardworking emergency room physicians who sought (and found) solace and refuge in their ER work through some of their greatest personal trials.  As Greene leaves the hospital for the last time -- too ill to work any longer -- he can be seen closing his locker in the doctor's lounge where only he and Kerry are present.  He turns to Weaver and warns her not to let her work become her life (as his presumably has -- until it is simply too late).


It's a heart wrenching scene -- and one that would leave many a professional, executive or leader squirming a bit uncomfortably.  I know it did for me ten years ago . . .


Both history and legend are rife with eulogies of people who (to the detriment of their family, health and values) gave everything to their work and tales of people who died (too) shortly after their work lives ended.


I can think of no better argument for living a full life inclusive of a variety of practices that enrich one's life and the lives of others.  You don't get a "do-over" on this one.


So, for the Greenes and Weavers everywhere, I encourage you: do not let your work become your life.  Give credit to your peers and colleagues, both by acknowledging their contributions and by empowering them to share the load.  Your success is symbolized by an organization that easily navigates your wake rather than drowns in the whirlpool of your departure.  Enrich your organization -- corporate, service, non-profit or community -- by exposing yourself to new ideas outside of work that can ignite your imagination for new solutions and inspire and excite your team.  Make time for what's important -- and work is part, but not all of it.  Be a role model in the way you give attention to your personal relationships, serve your community and attend to your health and fitness.  Your wellness will contribute to the wellness of others -- and to a better world.


After ten years, Mark Greene still dies -- because in the recorded history of television, his fate as a "workaholic" is sealed.  Yours is not.  You can make change . . . starting now.

The Being of Doing

I call myself a "doer" -- and had to wonder recently if that somehow is different from who I am (be)?  Can I be a "doer" or do I simply do?  Am I the entity or am I the action?  When change is the process (the doing) have I become a new me at the end of my doing?  One can get into that whole "to do is to be" versus "to be is to do" and who said what and what does it all mean anyway business.   Augh -- too much!

I've decided it this way.  I am a process.  I can be/do still and reflective.  I can be/do motion and action.  When I am being I am doing.  I make choices, take direction and see change -- I am still me, still doing.  I choose to be a doer of stuff.  Big stuff, little stuff, important stuff and less important stuff.  The distinction in it all, I think, is CHOICE.  If you want to tune in to choice, I welcome you to join the community of doing -- where you can do, or choose not to.  Just understand, it's a choice either way.

"Make the most of yourself for that is all there is of you."   -- Ralph Waldo Emerson