LOGAM

I recently read about the Swedish concept of “lagom”.  It generally means something like just the right amount.  Not too much, not too little.  It differs from “sufficient” or “average”.  Those words imply a bit of deficiency or lack or withholding.  Whereas “lagom” means exactly right…. do I really need more than three pairs of black pants?  Does this piece of clothing fit in every way?  Can I donate three blouses to Goodwill?

The article on Facebook went on to talk about how messiness is not really a problem of clutter, it is a problem of seeing too many choices…. “My office is such a mess I don’t even know where to start.”  The problem is not the messy office, it is a problem of not starting.  The Lagom approach might be to take one surface and spend 5 minutes clearing it.  Whatever can be done in 5 minutes is enough.  Do it.  Check it off and move on.  The next day tell yourself to respond to three emails you have flagged and not acted on.  Only 3.  It is a way of training yourself to START and to start small. Allegedly this will teach your brain to limit the overwhelm and just begin.

I can see the relevance of this to spiritual practice too.  We determine that we should meditate, so we decide to meditate for 30 minutes every morning.  That lasts about a week and we give up on the project.  Lagom might tell us to meditate for 5 minutes today.  Check it off.  You did it!  Maybe you’ll do it again tomorrow or maybe not.  What you will do is START.  And start small.  I am intrigued by this idea.  It’s not so much settling for the small steps as it is a way to begin thinking differently.  I think this could apply to a writing practice ss well.  We all want to write the great American novel.  But, real writers write bad drafts every day… and eventually they find enough good words in there to have a novel, or a poem, or an essay.  I think the message is something like Nike tells us. “just do it!”

Confession

 A piece of me has been sometimes envious of the Catholic practice of confession.  I don’t know too much about it, but Catholic friends have often regaled me with stories of confessions they made as a kid.  They didn’t really understand what they would have to confess, so they would make up things.  Or, they would keep track of very minor infractions and report every single one with great contrition.  I know that people are cynical about the idea that you confess your sins and then say a few “Hail Mary’s” and you’re on your way.  But I do like the idea of confessing.  In general, it usually feels good, though complicated, to confess the truth to someone or to yourself.  It seems to me it’s all about truth-telling.  Not in order to get an absolution or a punishment, but in order to have the weight of carrying guilt lifted even if slightly.  Not so much to be absolved, because only I can absolve myself.  But to merely let the light of day shine on a clearer truth.  The idea that this practice is institutionalized seems healthy to me.  Truth-telling without self-blame.  Truth telling to an anonymous “other”.

Couldn’t we all learn to act with the humility that comes from knowing we are finite, fragile, incomplete.  From knowing that we will all make mistakes, or be wrong, or hurt someone else.  It’s simply the truth of being human.  And the possibility of confession sort of means that we usually can get another chance.  And even if we mess up again, which we will, we can still belong.  We can be reminded that we are still part of the human circle.  Confession is not about being forgiven as much as it is about the opportunity to tell the truth and to hear it ourselves.  We have already given ourselves self-punishment.  To be able to say out loud to another our “sin”,  gives it breathing room.  Allows us to hear it from our own lips. 

Here's some advice from the poet Chelan Harkin;

TRY HUMAN

Forget perfection.

Go for messy, learning

tender, whole.

Forget brand new.

Embrace cracked,

broken open, worn,

rich with story.

Forget polished.

Choose rusted,

textured, nuanced, real.

Pease cease

this intimidating flawlessness

and become generous

in sharing your sacred wound.

Forget Divine –

try human.

~Chelan Harkin Susceptible to Light

Step Outside Tonight

I have a friend who told me of being at a retreat with the mystic, Jean Houston where the leader took everyone outdoors on a clear wintry night.  All the participants were standing in the cold within earshot of the conference center.  Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony boomed into the night air.  Jean invited the participants to “conduct the Ninth Symphony” imagining they were conducting the stars.  They were encouraged to assign to the stars the qualities they sensed they needed for their own life’s journey;  things like faith, honesty, playfulness, joy etc.  I can only imagine doing this… seems so powerful!

Then this morning I read Rilke’s poem. “Entrance” which I will copy at the end of this piece.  Both experiences seem to rely on the power of the outdoors to bring us closer to our own spirit… to find a way to listen deeply to what is inside us.  We are made by how we see the world.  It is too easy for me to forget or to resist going outdoors – especially at night, especially when it is cold.  And yet, I see the power in both of these described experiences – and I vow to overcome my resistance and to see what it’s like to conduct the stars, or to lift up a huge black tree and “put it in the heavens”…

ENTRANCE.  by Rainer Maria Rilke

Whoever you are:  step out of doors tonight,

Out of the room that lets you feel secure.

Infinity is open to your sight.

Whoever you are.

With eyes that have forgotten how to see

From viewing things already too well-known,

Lift up into the dark a huge, black tree

And put it in the heavens:  tall, alone.

And you have made the world and all you see.

It ripens like the words still in your mouth.

And when at last you comprehend its truth,

Then close your eyes and gently set it free.