Walking each other home, with doing The Work together

Off I go on an airplane to the east coast to facilitate a retreat for three days in The Work in an unusual place for me: Poconos Mountains, Pennsylvania. 


I can’t wait. Fall leaves changing color. Crisp air. My bags are packed and I’m ready to go. (I’m leavin’ on a jet plane….)


And, I notice a few thoughts.


One of them, I did in my facebook live where I do The Work in person right there on my page on Mondays. You’ll find it here. (Scroll down a wee bit–it’ll be the first post you run into with me on video). Anyone who wants me to do The Work on a thought you suggest, send it to me. 
Those pesky thoughts. 


They shout: “don’t forget the passport!” “put some tylenol in just in case you’re getting a cold!” “I need to know what the layout of the lodge looks like…right now!” “bring your vitamins!” “what about your charger!”


Ay me. 


The mind just loves to imagine the future. 


It needs to know what the future will look like because….without knowing, we’ll have to “wing it” as they say. 


Which won’t be easy. Or good. It won’t be perfect. It won’t be relaxing. 


It’s really much, much better to know what will happen and what the lay of the land will look like. 


Right?


Are you sure?


I notice, I never know exactly what’s going to happen. 
Perhaps this means that knowing what will happen is notcommon in reality, at least not mine. 


And not required. 


How do you react when you believe you need to know what will happen, or make sure you don’t forget anything important? Or understand exactly where you’ll be sleeping on a night when you don’t know yet?


Anxious. 


(Visions of a memory come to mind of driving in the middle of the night trying to find a camping spot in Oregon in 1992 with my first husband, and being shocked that every single hotel and camp sight was entirely packed, in August.)


Maybe you go over the list several times. Maybe you see pictures of what terrible things will happen if it goes “wrong”. The unkindness of people, feeling lost, having to suffer because you didn’t bring x, y or z. 


But who would you be without the belief you’ll suffer in the future unless you do all the things you think you need to do in order to be happy….later? 


Who would you really be, right now, without the belief you need to know, or it won’t go well, or you can prevent something dangerous from happening, or that you’ll suffer in any way at all? 


WOW. 


Isn’t it exciting? 


I love not having the thought that I need to know more than I know. Or do extra planning (unless that’s fun). 

Without the belief, I imagine the hilarity of being somewhere with lost luggage and having absolutely nothing. I imagine something liberating about that. Only the clothes on my back. Nothing missing. Nothing lost. 


The wonder arises, if you’ve ever been in that wild and fun situation, of the kindness of strangers who show up and hand you things you need, or ask if you need help, or give you a ride or a bed for the night. 


Noticing the possibility of the friendliness of the universe.
Turning it around: I don’t need to know what will happen, the layout of the land, the details. I pack my bag, and the bag may or may not appear in New York where I’ll land–maybe. 


I don’t need to know those things right now. 


Right now, I’m here in my sweet living room, getting ready to jump on the phone with the Year of Inquiry people and share in The Work (amazing group of people, I notice). 


Right now, I hear wind chimes blowing and a fly buzzing in the room. 


I get to join with myself in this quiet moment, and then shortly with others voices, as we “walk each other home”. 
That’s what someone in Year of Inquiry just said last Friday. 


It’s a quote from Ram Dass: We’re all walking each other home, step by step, supporting each other, listening, sharing, opening up, presenting our thoughts, getting other perspectives, hearing The Work. 


If this is the deep feeling in Year of Inquiry, couldn’t it be the very same in the whole wide world? 


“We’re all going to the same place, and we’re all on a path. Sometimes our paths converge. Sometimes they separate, and we can hardly see each other, much less hear each other. But on the good days, we’re walking on the same path, close together, and we’re walking each other home.” ~ Ram Dass

And today, another treat of someone whose path has converged with mine, and I’m so glad for it: Jodi Patisner.

We had a lovely talk about The Work in our lives, and Jodi shared her story of finding The Work in 2004 and all she’s encountered with it along the way. 

Best picture ever, right?

Speaking of sharing and retreats: I have one cot available for a woman in Pennsylvania at the gorgeous “amish-style” retreat lodge. You want to jump into self-inquiry this very weekend and walk home with us? 5-4-3-2-1 Join us! We begin Thursday 10/17 evening and end Sunday 10/20 noon. Hit reply and let me know, I’ll send you the scoop. 

Much love,Grace

P.S. In the winter months ahead, come join me for inquiry and sharing The Work:

  • December 5-8 I’m with the good Tom Compton as we co-facilitate a winter retreat at Breitenbush Hotsprings in Oregon (filling fast)
  • Eating Peace Retreat January 15-20 in Seattle is a wonderful adventure in freedom from eating concerns, eating thoughts, consuming thoughts, worries about fatness or thinness–a few more spots (retreat house is full with the exception of a shared room for a woman–you would have a twin bed)
  • Divorce/Breaking-Up/Separation Is Hell: Is It True?online course co-facilitated with the delightful Nadine Ferris France, begins again January 12-March 8 Sundays 11:00am-12:30pm PT.