Lynne Fairchild, Author at Wayfinding Coach

Dance of the Falling Yellow Leaves

August 30, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

I’m sitting on my screened porch, enjoying the first day this year when the air feels like fall.

The dry, cool air is noticeably different than the humid days of summer. I can literally feel the change in the air.

The thick humidity has been sucked out of the air, for the first time all summer, and the leaves and flowers are crisp and clear. Every leaf stands out now, instead of blending into a homogenous backdrop.

A brisk wind comes up and the dance of the falling yellow leaves begins.

There is a huge walnut tree in the back yard. We call it The Goddess Tree, because its presence is so dominating and feels so sacred. The strong presence of The Goddess Tree can be felt in every season, and in any kind of weather.

One day, every year, sometime in August, a wind arises and the air is filled with yellow leaves, dancing and drifting down from The Goddess Tree. The tree still looks green, but there are yellow leaves tucked in amongst the green ones, and they are ready to let go.

These kinds of days inspire me to jump into life, to re-engage at a fuller level. I can feel the passage of time in the wind. Life feels more precious on days like this, and I feel more alive.

It’s like life isn’t just sauntering lazily along, and it certainly isn’t pausing to give me time to catch up.

The dance of the falling yellow leaves heralds a different, more changeable rhythm of life. It is so very different from the slow, relaxed days of summertime.

I need to quicken my step, to keep in time, to sense the rhythm of the change, and embrace it.

These days dare me to come more alive. It is not just an invitation; it is a dare.

In this dance, all of life is a demand to wake up.

What do you want to wake up to?

Choosing Who We Want to Be (In a Tough Circumstance, Over Which We Have No Control)

August 8, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

Harper and I had a bit of a traumatic thing happen to us on our evening walk a few days ago.

I was walking him on the road that we walk at least twice a day, almost every day of the year, when two loose seventy-pound dogs charged us and attacked him. I don’t know how long it lasted; time felt suspended to me. Some seconds, or a couple of minutes perhaps.

I yelled at the dogs. I implored the people responsible for the dogs, who were standing in their driveway, to call the dogs off. They stood by and did nothing.

I finally must have summoned up enough Alpha Dog energy to scare the dogs, and they backed off, but not before they sank their teeth into Harper in a few places.

Before I go any further, Harper is going to be fine, which is a miracle. He got away with a deep puncture wound and some soft tissue damage. He has very thick fur, and that helped him. He couldn’t get up or walk the next morning, but the vet’s check-up revealed nothing more serious, and he just needed an antibiotic and some pain meds. He’s already on the mend, albeit a bit skittish about going out.

As I process the event, it has been the gift of a big learning for me.

I thought: What do I do with this? My dog was attacked, and could have been killed. I could have been injured. The people responsible did nothing to control the dogs or to help us.

There are so many times in our lives when something happens to us that we have no control over, and that doesn’t feel fair or right. Countless people have experienced much tougher things than I did the other night.

At first I was scared and furious. My friends were asking me what I was going to do; would I report the incident? Or speak to the people responsible for the dogs?

Then I meditated. A lot. Meditation is my go-to for honoring the fear and anger, but eventually being able to let them go. I want to respect my emotions; they are part of my humanity. But if I remain in outrage or anger, those people and those dogs have hijacked everything that matters to me. Then I am saying “no” to life, rather than “yes”.

I asked myself what matters now. Here’s what matters:
●   That I love Harper through this.
●   That I do as much as I can to keep him safe.
●   That I restore my peace of mind.

It was pretty clear immediately that I couldn’t do those things from a mind that was addled with fear and judgement and outrage.

So I kept meditating, and I asked myself my governing question: Who do I want to be, here?

Viktor Frankl said: “Man’s last freedom is to choose his attitude and his way.” He was writing in the 1940’s, about his experience of living in a concentration camp.

I get to choose who I want to be here.

I get to choose who I want to be in any circumstance, even (or maybe, especially) in those situations that I wouldn’t choose or wouldn’t want or that seem unfair.

I choose to be peaceful. I choose to be grateful. I want to be loving and clear.

When I find myself drifting off of that “home base,” I’ll meditate, as a first step to restoring my inner peace. I’ll focus my attention on what I can genuinely appreciate. Then, love and clarity are more possible.

This might be a lot more difficult if Harper had been more seriously injured, but the principles are the same. I’ve been given an invitation to continue to release my fear, frustration, and outrage, and to return to my inner feeling of well-being, from which I can be loving and clear.

I’m not going to speak to the people with the dogs. In my clarity of mind, I can see that they don’t feel responsible for the dogs, and they have absolutely no interest in controlling them. If they had, they would have called the dogs off.

I’ll speak to my friends in the neighborhood to let them know that there are some unstable dogs around, so they can be alert.

I’ll carry pepper spray, to protect myself and Harper in the case of further incidents.

And, I’ll change our walking route, to avoid contact with those people and those dogs.

At first, I didn’t know what to do, but when I had restored my peace of mind, I knew what was right, for me. I remembered to ask myself: What matters now? Who do I want to be? The answers to those questions were my guides.

What matters now?
Who do you want to be?

Fog and Fungi

August 6, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

I’m out on my morning walk with Harper, and we are immersed in a dense fog. The fog is obscuring my vision and I’m enjoying the feeling of being closed in. It feels somehow comforting.

Things seem to blur, as if in a relaxed focus, and unfamiliar shapes take the place of things that I see and know every day.

Fog invites me to slow down and savor what is right in front of me, within my limited range of view.

As a metaphor for my life, fog is a relief. I don’t have to seek clarity. It will come naturally, when the sun gets bright and the fog lifts.

Today I am also noticing lots of different kinds of wild mushrooms. There are red ones. There are tall slender ones, with narrow caps. There are short creamy ones with big wide caps.

These fungi remind me that summer is beginning to draw to a close, and that soon, Autumn will grace us with its presence. Autumn is when mushrooms are most prolific around here.

The sounds of crickets and cicadas have replaced the fullness of morning birdsong.

The days are noticeably shorter than they were a month ago, both in the morning and in the evening.

I welcome the transition from summer to autumn. I love the cooler days, and the dark green colors, turning eventually to vivid reds, yellows, and oranges.

What I don’t always welcome is the passage of time, which feels to me like it is continuing to accelerate.

The only wise response to the passage of time, for me, is to savor more.

When I bring all of my attention into the present moment, and savor something, and really behold it, time seems to stop its relentless forward march.

So I stop to savor the fog, and to behold the mushrooms, and to just appreciate life, right here in this moment. And, for just this moment, time seems to stop and widen.

What are you savoring today?

Prayer for the New Moon

August 4, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

I wrote a prayer for the New Moon, and I offer it to you, in case it resonates for you.

New Moon….

Let me immerse myself in your darkness.

Let me rest in the dark and the cool.

Let me gather my wisdom and my strength for the journey ahead.

And, finally, New Moon, let me be open and receptive to what is emerging from your fertile void.

Water Under the Bridge

August 3, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

I haven’t written on the blog for ages. I made a commitment to myself a year or so ago that I would only share my words when I am inspired to share, rather than writing just because I haven’t written in a while.

My commitment is to be open and receptive, and what comes will come in its own timing. I wish for all of us that we live our lives in the flow, rather than pushing against it.

Speaking of flow, there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since I last wrote.

Our dog Cinny passed away, after 12 years of fun, frolic, and feistiness with us. We feel so blessed that she was such a big part of our lives for so long. This picture is of Cinn with one of her favorite toys, Hamilton. Be free, sweet Cinnamon; we miss you every single day.

I created and led an experiential workshop called Bringing the Sacred into Everyday Life. Eight of us gathered to spend five mornings together, creating altars, walking the labyrinth, drawing mandalas, communing with nature, and painting blessing flags. It was a rich week of fun, deep sharing, and profound learning.

I have begun another virtual pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago in Northern Spain. I feel called to be a pilgrim when I find myself in Not Knowing Land, in various aspects of my life. I have done two other virtual pilgrimages in the last five years, one on the Camino (the same route), and one to Ireland.

Being on a pilgrimage helps me remember that it is OK to Not Know, that sometimes Not Knowing is the most powerful place to be, and that all we really need to know is our next step.

At its essence, a pilgrimage is an inner journey, so it is not necessary that we actually set foot out our doors (although a real pilgrimage walk is a very powerful and luminous experience; ask anyone who’s done it).

I believe that our lives are pilgrimages, when lived consciously and with intention.

When I look back at the last few months, what I see is my commitment to pay attention to that which is precious in my life.

What is the water that has passed under your bridge, in the last 3 months?

What is precious to you?

What do you want to pay attention to?

Welcome Them All

April 30, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

The Northern Cardinals are in their nesting season right now.

They are famous for aggressively defending their territories during nesting season.

Today, a cardinal has posted itself outside one of our windows, and it keeps flying right up to the window, and attacking its reflection. It has mistakenly seen its own reflection as a threat, an intruder.

This is life, reflecting to me, what I do sometimes. When sadness, anxiety, frustration come up, from within, I sometimes see them as intruders, and I want to attack and banish them, to force them out.

If you have never read the poem The Guest House, by Rumi, you can see it here. It is definitely worth a read.

Rumi poetically describes how, every morning, there is a new arrival.

And that we might “meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.”

Invite them in? How radical would that be?

He goes on to say that we could choose to “be grateful for whatever comes.Because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.”

I happen to agree with Rumi, that all of our emotions are important messengers, and that they have something important to tell us. It won’t serve us to dwell on them, but what if we welcome them, as honored guests, and find out the reason for their visit?

The cardinal wore itself out today, knocking on the window, before I could get out there to cover the window with paper. It is exhausting to fight ourselves.

I’m grateful for the visit from the cardinal today, because it reminds me how important it is to be kind and compassionate with myself, and to welcome all parts of myself, as if they are important guests. And, how important it is to give up the inner fight. It’s exhausting, and I can choose to drop the rope.

What would you like to welcome in, today?

Ripples

April 23, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

It’s a rainy day, and I am noticing the beautiful, circular ripples that the raindrops are causing on the surface of the pond.

It is like a drop of energy hits the surface of the water, and then it radiates out in circles.

This makes me think about how important it is for me to always be, as much as I can, the person that I want to be in my daily life.

I may think that it doesn’t make a difference, or that it isn’t worth paying attention to, but I realize, when I look at these ripples, that my energy, my intention, my attitude, goes out in ripples, just like these ripples on the pond.

When I’m snarky, that’s what goes out. When I’m loving, that’s what goes out. It is truly as simple as that.

It is a miracle, really, that we get to choose.

What ripples do you want to send out today?

Signs of Joy

April 12, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

My dog Harper and I have ducked outside for a quick walk, in the moments between rain. We are slogging through mud and soggy ground. It is dark and grey and the sky is thinking of raining again.

There has been so much kvetching about the weather in the last few weeks. It is April, and a transition time, and people are weary. They are wanting for sun, and are having difficulty seeing anything beyond the howling winds and the grey. It seems to have gotten to even the most optimistic of us.

Yes, it is true; we’ve had snow, sleet, hail, and more in the last few weeks. And a lot of wind. There is so much water that it seems like the land doesn’t know what to do with it.

I have to keep consciously pulling myself back into the realization that there are also signs of beauty and joy and aliveness everywhere.

Trees are filled with flocks of singing birds, passing through on migration.

The honeysuckle are leafing out.

There are geese feeding in the fields, and ducks in the pond. The frogsong is going almost 24/7.

A small songbird, newly arrived from its winter migration grounds, is walking down a tree trunk, looking for bugs to eat.

Daffodils are springing up and blooming by the side of the road.

Delicate blue flowers are taking over the woods.

The world is awash in aliveness. Nature is getting on with the business of Spring.

Sometimes I must train my eyes what to see again, and what to focus on.

I need to pull my ears away from the prevailing stream of kvetching, and turn my focus to the other truth: that there are beautiful gifts for the eyes and the ears, everywhere. When I do that, I see a pair of Cardinals building a nest, and I forget about the raindrops.

What is the joy that your world is showing you today?

Wandering Aimlessly, Fully Present

April 6, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

Walking with my dog Harper could be a frustrating experience if I let it be.

I love him dearly, but he’s a challenge to walk. When he was a pup, and I was not as good at being Alpha Dog, he pulled me over and I broke my ankle, on a walk. He’s a strong dog. And a willful one sometimes.

Nowadays, the challenge is more about where he’d like to go vs where I’d like to go. I’m a lot stronger and I have developed more command presence, at least with my dogs. 🙂

Tonight, on a sunset walk, we were in our usual push-pull dynamic when I suddenly realized that I can choose not to enforce my will in this situation anymore. It was a classic Duh Moment.

It is only a push-pull because I have an agenda when we walk. I have a plan about where we’ll go and how fast we’ll get there.

What I realized tonight was that there is no reason for me to have an agenda when we walk. It seems like I have agendas for a lot of things in my life, and I’d frankly like to be freed of some of them.

Apart from starting and finishing at the house, and having an approximate time frame in mind for our walks, I can let go of my agenda, and see where it takes us.

We have to be safe, but Harper sits by the side of the road when cars come by, so that isn’t a problem.

I realized that as long as I stay fully present, I could give into Harper’s wandering aimlessly.

This was a revelation, much like what I discovered in Harper Time.

We noticed a crocus bloom, with a honey bee collecting the nectar.

We visited the pond. There were ducks there. They had just arrived from their winter migration area. The frogs were singing.

We went by the stand of blue spruce, where some red-winged blackbirds and robins were serenading us as they settled in for the night.

We made a pass by the lone tree in the school yard, to check for new scents.

And when we reached the end of the lane by the school, Harper was ready to turn around and head back. Easy; he didn’t pull at all, because I wasn’t resisting.

When we got home, I sat down to think about where in my life I am making things more challenging than they need to be, just by virtue of my habits or beliefs, and where I can lighten up!

Harper just wants to enjoy his life, and I can take a page out of his playbook.

Stay tuned to see if we end up in the middle of a muddy cornfield on our next walk! 🙂

Where would you like to lighten up in your life?

The House Where Pete Lived

April 4, 2016 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

Cinnamon and I were on our evening walk tonight as we passed the house where Pete lived.

The new owners were busy nailing some drywall up on the wall in the back bedroom. You could see that they are doing a lot of renovation to their new home.

When Pete lived there, he used to come out and visit with us as we walked the dogs by his house. He was a funny guy, and smart, and he liked the dogs.

He and his wife Bea were our role models for what we wanted to be when we are a little older.

Bea used to drive the two of them around on various errands and adventures. They would speed by us in their car, waving wildly and smiling ear-to-ear. Sometimes they would stop to talk, but most of the time, they were getting on with living, and they had fun places to be. They were always filled with spirited energy.

Bea died last summer, and Pete could no longer live there by himself, so he moved away. Bea’s death shocked me, in the way that deaths do, when someone who has lived so fully alive dies. Some part of me always expects people who live so robustly to go on forever.

I was sad tonight, as I remembered how much I loved seeing Bea and Pete, and how much I miss them.

It made me remember how I want to be as I get a little older. And that made me remember how I want to be now, so that I can always feel like I have lived my life fully, like Bea and Pete showed me.

How can you live more alive?

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