“Feathers” and Wisdom from the Talmud

I’ve always enjoyed this Eastern European Jewish folktale.  Perhaps you will, too.

It’s a story about a man (it certainly could be a woman) who goes about the town telling  stories and lies about Rabbi.  Eventually the man realizes the wrong he has done and feels remorseful. He goes to the Rabbi to beg the Rabbi’s forgiveness. He tells the Rabbi he would do anything to make amends. The Rabbi tells the man to take a feather pillow, cut it open and scatter the feathers to the wind.  When he is done with the task, the Rabbi tells the man to return.  It seems like a strange request, but since it is simple to fulfill he decides to do it. He returns to the Rabbi the next day. The Rabbi tells him, “And now your job is to go and gather all the feathers and bring them back to me.” The man knows that this is an impossible task. They have been scattered far and wide. “And such is true of your damaging words, lies and comments,” says the Rabbi. “You can no more take back the damage that your words have done to me then you can collect the feathers.”

So true. No wonder the things we say about others have been likened to an arrow. Once the words are spoken, like an arrow, they cannot be retrieved. The damage they do can’t be stopped. The harm they cause can seldom be predicted because words, like arrows, often go astray.

Judaism, like Buddhism, is intensely aware of the power of speech. Consequently, it has some very strict rules about speech because of the harm that can be done through the things we say.  It even suggests that the harm done by speech is worse than the harm done by stealing because money loss can be repaid, but the damage done by speech can never be repaired. It calls the one who speaks disparagingly or who distorts the truth, the lowest of the low; and considers the one who listens to it even worse than one who tells it because no harm could be done by a gossip if no one listened. Pretty strong words.

Disparaging speech kills three people: “the person who speaks it, the person who hears it, and the person about whom it is told.” (Talmud Arachnid 15b)

Yep.

I gotta think that this is why the Talmud describes the tongue as being so dangerous that it must be kept hidden from view behind two protective walls–the mouth and teeth–to prevent its misuse.

And no wonder Buddhism suggests we ask ourselves these three questions before we speak (and to only) speak if the answer to all three is “yes.”

Is it kind?

Is it true?

Is it necessary?

And I’ve decided to add a fourth question:  Is the information I have accurate and complete?

A memory that still puts a smile on my face

It was a Monday morning. My son Johnathon had just begun high school. Since the fifth grade he had been a student of the California Virtual Academy (CAVA. An on-line charter high school). He was a great student and was used to the discipline necessary with an on-line school program. But high school was different. It was much more rigorous and demanding than elementary school was.

We were driving from our home to The Unity Center where Johnathon had an office that served as his classroom. It was a short drive. Too short a drive this particular Monday morning for him to share all the frustration he was feeling about the workload and demanding schedule in his freshman year. I listened and tried to be reassuring, telling him that things would get better. It was just the beginning of high school and it was going to take some getting used to. But by the time we pulled into the parking lot, it was clear he was still in a bad mood and needed to talk.

So I started to drive around our parking lot in circles. Round and round. I told him we were going to do what it took to shift his mood. He talked. I listened and drove in circles. He talked. I tried my best to reassure him. But we weren’t making any progress shifting his attitude about school. And I was getting a bit dizzy.

And then I had a crazy and fun idea.

I stopped the car. Put it in reverse. And started to drive around the parking lot in circles backwards!  I told him we were going to reverse his energy and change his mood. It worked.  A smile crossed his face. His mood started to shift. And he started to laugh.

But his laughter wasn’t nearly as much fun as the look on the faces of my staff when we walked into the office. Seems they had been watching us from the window. Must’ve been a pretty strange site.  Clearly they were puzzled and asked us what we were doing. Wanting to enjoy the fun little longer, I asked them to guess.

My favorite guess was: It’s the way you recharge the battery on your new hybrid car, right?

No, it’s not how you recharge the battery on a hybrid car, but it is how you can recharge an interest in learning or change a sour mood into happier one!

Still puts a smile on my face and helps me shift my mood even without the driving!

P.S. The next day my daughter insisted on the same driving/mood changing experience!

These are the times . . .

The father of one of my son’s best friends died suddenly…and at a much-too-early age. Both father and son were members of my spiritual community. Both held a special place in my heart. Still do.

My son’s friend was like an extended part of our family. Still is. From piles of BBQ ribs eaten around our pool to plates of pesto pasta consumed around our kitchen table. From summer sleep-overs at our home to winter ski trips near our cabin. From the Rite of Passage we designed for him and my son when they were just twelve to the pride we felt for them when they both got accepted to Cal. Such special memories.

Twenty-one years old is too young to lose your father. These are the situations for which the statement, “Life is not fair” truly fits. These are the times for which there are no easy answers, only questions. These are the times words are inadequate and one remembers that nothing can take the place of the healing power of simply being there for one another. These are the times that our faith is tried and stretched and we hope it will be enough to carry us through.

But most of all, these are the times that invite us to reflect–deeply reflect–on what really matters. The stuff we all know, but so often forget in the every-increasing busyness and complexity of our lives.

So, last night, after enjoying a huge plate of pesto pasta and spending hours simply being together, remembering and honoring his father in simple and sweet ways, we gave our son’s good friend a big hug good-bye knowing we will be there for him in whatever way we can.

Worst thing I ever made!

I love to cook and I’m a pretty good one. At least I’ve been told I am by more than a few people. Sesame Encrusted Seared Ahi with Dipping Sauces. Fillet Mignon with Cognac Cream Sauce. Roasted Acorn Squash with Mushroom Risotto Topped with Seared Scallops (drizzled with truffle oil). Homemade Ravioli. New York Style Cheesecake. Fresh Blueberry Pie. Still haven’t mastered homemade Gnocchi, but I think you get the picture.

Not so last night.

Had two beautiful spaghetti squash. Was going to steam them like I usually do, but this time I thought I’d trying something different. Rather than using my homemade summer tomato sauce and parmesan cheese to top it, I’d use my homemade pesto sauce. My family has always been game to try whatever I make; that’s what makes it fun and safe to experiment. In fact, we have a little tradition when trying out new recipes. “Do again!” means we all liked it and it goes on the Purcell’s menu list.

Not this one!

Bright yellow spaghetti squash plus pesto has got to produce the absolutely ugliest shade of green I have ever seen in my life! Made the color of split pea soup or camouflage green look attractive.

Though it didn’t taste terrible…and both John and Jennifer asked for seconds (they must have been really hungry!)…there were no “Do agains!”

Lots of truth to the saying, “We eat first with our eyes.”

I think I’ll keep the bright yellow spaghetti squash away from my deep green pesto from now on. Some things just aren’t meant to go together.

Hmmm….there’s a philosophy lesson in that ….

It makes me smile…every year!

I have always been attracted to a person’s smile. I know most folks say you can tell a lot about a person by their eyes (and I agree), but I also think that a person’s smile reveals a lot about themselves as well.

Got to thinking about smiles and smiling quite a bit a week or so ago. In a most unusual place…and while all alone. I was in my backyard working on my square foot garden.* My husband had done all the prep work the week before with his usual attention to detail. Filling the boxes with the best soil, marking off each square foot and being sure the drip sprinklers were working properly.

Everything was ready for me to start planting…the easy part. Planted my usual herb garden: dill, chives, oregano, rosemary, thyme, tarragon, sorrel, Italian parsley, cilantro and sweet basil…lots of basil! Then I planted all the tomatoes: about 8 different varieties and a total of about 3 dozen plants. Yes, I know that’s probably overkill for a suburban, backyard garden, but if you know how delicious homegrown tomatoes taste, I know you understand.

After everything was planted, I gave it all a good sprinkling of gray water (faithfully collected from our showers every morning) and stood back to admire it. It looked beautiful. I could already taste my fresh caprese salad of sliced tomatoes, topped with fresh mozzarella di buffalo, a few perfect leaves of basil and the tiniest sprinkling of kosher salt and good balsamic vinegar!

And I smiled. A big happy, childlike smile of simple, pure joy.

What makes you smile…even when you are all alone?

* If you’d like to learn more about the “square foot gardening” technique, check out the following website:

www.squarefootgardening.com

Okay, I think I’m likin’ it!

Went out for my early morning jog the other day. It sure is dark at 6:00 in the morning and pretty quiet, too. At least three times a week since the beginning of the year, I’ve sat on the antique chair in our entryway to put on my running shoes all the while trying to convince myself that I really wanted to go for a run when what I really wanted, I am embarrassed to admit, were the benefits of running without having to do the work. You know…the benefits of increased endurance, a trimmer body, better health…those things.

But this morning was different. For some reason, I didn’t have to talk myself into it. I just put on my shoes. Went out the door and started jogging. I had only gone a half-mile or so when I noticed I was actually having a good time. Unlike nearly every other previous run, I wasn’t thinking about how much further I had to go before I was done. I was enjoying the feel of my feet hitting the ground in a steady, rhythmic beat. The sound of my breathing. The fluid swing of my arms. This time I was having fun. And this time I decided to run longer and farther simply because I wanted to and because it felt good.

The experience underscored for me the importance of self-discipline and consistent, steady practice whether in running or anything else. It also made me remember that breakthroughs don’t happen at the beginning of a process; they can’t. Breakthroughs come because you’ve been working earnestly at something for a while and haven’t given up even when it you might have been tempted to.

So the compliment I was given today was especially delicious. Sort of a “treat” from the Universe. As I walked past one of the members of my spiritual community she pulled me aside and said, “You know, Wendy, if you ever decide you don’t want to be a minister anymore, you could be a leg model. I’m jealous!” Her compliment made me smile and made me think about my jog just the day before.

I am likin’ it now…the jogging as well as the benefits.

Would it be better and more fun?

Had a really great time skiing the other day.  Skied better and faster than I ever have. Started wondering about what made the difference and was surprised and delighted by what I discovered. It had little–if anything–to do with the mountain or the conditions. In actuality, I forced myself to ski on every type of snow that was available to me–from a bit of fresh stuff (which I love) to nicely groomed, really fast stuff (which I’m learning to love) to what I call “noisy snow” (wind-swept snow that is so hard-packed and like corduroy that you hear yourself skiing) to maneuvering through crud on top of icy stuff. So, what was the difference this time?

Trust.

Trust in myself. A recognition of my ability to handle anything on the mountain. A conscious decision not to hold myself back. To simply let myself go and flow and have fun doing it.

Made me pause to wonder further…in how many other places and at how many other times…have I held myself back. How many times have I not trusted myself or given myself credit for lessons learned and experience gained…often thinking another is better, smarter, wiser. And….could it be…that if I did trust myself more, that not only would I do better, but I’d have a heck of a lot more fun as well?

I think so.

Perhaps you can relate?

The important work of forgiving

Today I spoke on the topic of the power of forgiveness. As a spiritual leader for more than thirty years, it was certainly not my first time speaking on the topic, but I believe it was my most powerful time. The response I got from my community seemed to bear that out as well. I am confident it was because of my own evolution and growth through a few tragic and painful personal events.

I spoke about forgiveness being something we do for ourselves. It is not an act of condoning that which is wrong. In fact sometimes, if the wrong is serious enough, legal action may need to be taken and justice served.

Nor is forgiveness about letting the wrong-doer off the hook as some mistakenly think. It is about letting yourself off the hook. Freeing yourself from the pain of the past and the emotional bond that you have been maintaining with the wrong-doer through your anger, hatred or bitterness. It is about taking your power back and reclaiming your life.

It takes time. It is a process. It is hard work. It requires…as Dr. Fred Luskin, Co-Director of the Stanford Forgiveness Project says…two steps. The first step is grieving. Allowing yourself to feel the original trauma with all its original hurt and pain and anger while dealing with what has been lost. And no one has a right to rush you through your process of grief, doing so will likely only prolong your grieving. The second step is letting go and moving on. Yet, even though we know how harmful it is to stay in that pain indefinitely, it takes work to get to that place of letting go. Sometimes we have to begin with the prayer, “Spirit, I know I need to forgive and move on for myself. Help me want to want to forgive.”

That second step is definitely easier to take if the one who has wronged you acknowledges the seriousness of his act and is genuinely remorseful. But that doesn’t always happen. And even if it doesn’t, eventually…for your own well-being and those you love…you will need to let go and move on.

That “moving on” piece is one of the most important lessons I have learned. I now understand that forgiving someone doesn’t mean I have to let them back into my life. It may not be physically or emotionally safe to do so. But even if I can’t let them back in my life, I can still pray for their happiness and well-being. I can pray that perhaps one day, they will see things clearly and change. And meanwhile, I have my life and my power back.

It’s raining outside and I’m smiling

There’s no question that I feel blessed living in San Diego with near-perfect weather year round. For more than forty  years now, I’ve been spoiled by this beautiful city and the great people who live here. Nonetheless, there is a part of this native New Yorker that still loves to experience some “real” (meaning non-perfect) weather every once in awhile.

So I love that it is raining outside right now. I’m imagining how much greener it will look outside tomorrow. And I am praying that some of this precipitation is falling as snow in my beloved Sierra mountains.

But I’m smiling, too, because I’m reminiscing. Two special and vivid rainy-day memories coming easily into my mind. Both celebratory occasions. One was Ash Wednesday, 1993. It was raining. We had finally closed escrow on the purchase of our church building. It had been a looooooooong and difficult process. My husband, John, and I were excited and exhausted. But we were determined to celebrate this huge success just the same. So, despite our fatigue and the rain, we popped open a bottle of champagne, climbed into the jacuzzi in our backyard, held an umbrella over our heads and celebrated. What fun! How special!

The other was a different, but equally sweet memory. It didn’t mark a major milestone in my professional life, but it did mark a special moment in my life as a mom. My daughter, Jennifer, was about five or six at the time. She loved to play and dance and had a vivid imagination. It was a rainy day. And what did she want to do? She wanted to dance in our cul-de-sac outside in the rain. My first thought. I’m going to get wet. I’ll have to redo my make-up and hair. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. But, thank God for second thoughts. Second thoughts that plop into ones mind like raindrops falling on the sidewalk. Second thoughts that say, “But what could be more fun or meaningful than entering into the carefree, playful world of your daughter and dancing with her in the rain.” Not sure who had more fun that day. Jennifer. Me. Or the drivers that passed by us honking their horns, cheerfully waving and nodding with smiles of approval as we danced and splashed and giggled about.

I love the rain. How about you? What memories does it bring up for you?

If I’d ever been a guest on Oprah

Like many teachers in the consciousness movement, I had often hoped for a chance to be a guest on The Oprah Winfrey Show. Of the many topics I could have spoken on, if I’d only had a few minutes on her show I would have told her about the questions I asked my children every night at bedtime while they were growing up.

I’m not exactly sure how it started, but when my son was about six or seven years old, I started to use our bedtime routine as a time to check into his little world more deeply. Rather than asking the usual “How was your day” question that usually got no more than a one word response, I started to asked deeper, probing questions which grew in complexity as he got older. One question was always geared toward the positive: What made you feel happy inside today? Or, What made you feel brave today? The second would open up conversation on the tough stuff that children sometimes deal with: Was there anything that frightened or embarrassed you today? Was there anything that challenged you? And the third question would be one that would help reinforce personal awareness and responsibility such as: Was there anything you did today that you wish you had handled differently? Or, What did you learn about yourself today?

But one evening a very different question popped out of my mouth. It had been one of those days in which I felt overwhelmed by all I was juggling at work and questioning the job I was doing as a mother because of it. (If you are a working parent–mom or dad–I’m sure you can relate.)  Was I doing a good enough job? Did my children really feel like I was there for them? Was I an “askable” parent? Could they, would they, come to me with what might be on their minds?

The question that popped out was: Is there anything you’ve been wanting to talk to me about that you didn’t know how to bring up or that you thought I might have been too busy to hear?” A pretty vulnerable question for a parent to ask, when you think about it! But that question–and the willingness to listen to the answer–opened the door to some of the richest, deepest and most important conversations I ever had with my children.

That simple, daily practice helped to create a sacred and safe place for my kids to openly share whatever was on their minds which still exists in my relationship with them today.

That’s what I would have shared with Oprah and her viewers.