Strength from Memory

The Elegance of the Hedgehog reminded me, bone and blood, heart and soul, of Anne-Marie. It was as if I could hear her saying to me, “Yes, Nina, life is hard, unfair, painful. But life is also guaranteed — one hundred percent, no doubt, no question — to offer unexpected and sudden moments of beauty, joy, love, acceptance, euphoria.” The good stuff. It is our ability to recognize and then hold on to the moments of good stuff that allows us to survive, even thrive. And when we can share the beauty, hope is restored.

People often talk about the importance of living in the here and now, and express envy at how children enjoy their moments of pleasure without dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. Fine, agreed. But it is experience — a life lived — that allows us to recall moments of happiness and feel happy again. It is our ability to relive a moment that gives us strength. Our survival as a species is linked to this ability to remember (which berries not to eat; to stay away from the big toothy animals; to huddle close to the fire but not touch it). But survival of our inner selves also depends upon memories. Why else do we have such acute noses? I smell an evergreen and swoon with delight. Why? Because of the many pleasant hours passed at the foot of a Christmas tree. And the smell of popcorn is so seductive because of the movies I’ve enjoyed while eating it. The taste of a good green olive makes me hungry, because an olive or two have accompanied so many delicious meals and flowing wines.

— Nina Sankovitch, Tolstoy and the Purple Chair, p. 35

Not Powerless

Coming to appreciate that we are not powerless over what we nurture in our minds, that we are, in fact, in charge of our thoughts, gives us the hope and the promise that we can feel however we want to feel. We can be as happy, as hopeful, or as miserable as we want to be. No thought can hold us hostage. No feeling can hold us hostage. No person can hold us hostage. We are as free as we want to be. This gives us all the ammunition we will ever need to know that all is well. Always, all is well.

— Karen Casey, Let Go Now, p. 60

Reconciliation

When our goal has been the recruitment of others to our way of thinking, we have often lost our way, valuing recruitment above reconciliation.

Our passion for recruitment lies in our desire to have others make the same religious choices we have made, thereby confirming our wisdom and good sense. In that sense, recruitment is a self-centered activity, valuing others primarily for their willingness and ability to confirm our decisions. But a church centered on reconciliation, not recruitment, begins with the assumption that others are our equal partners in loving work, not targets for our evangelism. When that is the case, we will no longer view those outside the church as mistaken, confused, spiritually lost, or damned. Instead, we will see in them the very potential and promise Jesus saw in those he encountered.

— Philip Gulley, The Evolution of Faith, p. 188-189

The More We Use, the More We Have

The accepted measurement of time allocates twenty-four hours for each day, and for now and the foreseeable future, that is it. Unable to convince the clock of the joys of generosity that could be experienced by its offering just a little bit more of its precious commodity, we alter our approach and try to squeeze just one more project into the day’s already bloated schedule.

The wonderful thing about patience, unlike time, is the more we use it, the more we have. Also, by its nature, patience creates a spaciousness that lets us feel as if we have more time than we have ever had. Thus, patience can alter our everyday experience from one of anxiety and deficiency to one of peace and plentitude.

— Allan Lokos, Patience, p. 18

Escaping Memory Fog

When you feel yourself drifting back into the fog of a memory, command your energy to return to the present moment by saying, “I am not going in that direction any longer. I release it once and for all.” And don’t make heavy weather out of the act of releasing. It isn’t always necessary to beat up pillows on the floor while screaming in rage. Release can also be accomplished with a bit of humor, such as, “You again? Beat it! I haven’t got either the time or the energy to think about you any longer.” Lighten up, and don’t allow your past to frighten you. Stop giving it power by clinging to the belief that things could or should have been otherwise. That is nonsense.

As you gain more control over your thoughts, try changing your vocabulary too. Speak more in the present tense about your life. You can certainly recall your past, but make it a habit to recall the good times. When someone asks you how you are, give them a positive answer; let that be your default setting. If you are genuinely coping with something that recently happened to you, go ahead and share that, but don’t dwell on it.

— Caroline Myss, PhD, Why People Don’t Heal and How They Can, p. 26

Breaking Down Walls

The future of Christianity will rest in our ability to make our spiritual boundaries more porous, welcome the wisdom of other faiths, and borrow the best from other spiritual traditions, even as we share with them the stories and insights of Christianity. This in no way dishonors the contributions of Jesus, but recalls his appreciation for those persons thought to be outside the circle of God’s favor. When searching for an example of faith, he lifted up a Roman centurion. When illustrating compassion, Jesus spoke of a despised Samaritan who stopped to help. His willingness to see the good beyond his own tradition is a clear reminder for us to do the same.

Christianity, from its very start, was an invitation to believe God was at work in the wider world, far beyond the parameters of any one religion. When the church has forgotten the expansiveness of God, it has descended into a narrowness of mind and a meanness of spirit. When the church has remembered, it has been a light to the world and a balm and blessing to hurting people everywhere.

— Philip Gulley, The Evolution of Faith, p. 181-182

Out of Our Control

Detachment is a loving act and quite often a very difficult one. Usually we have to consciously make the decision to let someone else chart their own course and thus define their own life. We mistakenly think that since we are traveling together, we should be able to influence the direction a friend or lover takes, but that’s not the case. Possibly, our opinion will be sought, and in some cases adhered to, but there are no guarantees. We travel side by side because of the lessons we share, and one of the lessons we all have to learn, it seems, is that we cannot control the actions, the opinions, or the decisions anyone else makes.

— Karen Casey, Let Go Now, p. 31