Harry and the Peach Seed

Here’s a favorite blog I want to share again...

Harry is my dear friend and “adopted brother” who is a master storyteller. He has many tales of his beloved “Nannar,” his mother’s mother, who doted on him as her only grandchild. I especially love his peach seed story and I use it often with clients when I’m illustrating a point. It goes something like this…

One day when he was about eight years old, Harry was visiting Nannar in her rural Virginia home. As usual, visits to Nannar included time in her kitchen and on this day they were enjoying the juicy goodness of a fresh summer peach. As the seed started to emerge through the plump peach Harry was eating, he got an idea.

“Can we plant this peach seed?” young Harry asked.

“Of course,” Nannar replied. “We’ll plant it in the back yard where we can watch it grow through the kitchen window.”

A great plan Harry thought, so off they went to plant the seed. A suitable spot was found and under Nannar’s watchful gaze, Harry dug a hole, deposited the seed, covered it with dirt and added water. “Now we wait,” Nannar said.

Just a few days later, Harry asked his grandmother if they could dig the seed up and see how it was doing.

“You don’t want to do that,” Nannar cautioned.

“But why not?” Harry countered. He was an inquisitive lad and as an only child, was used to getting his requests quickly met.

“You planted the seed and watered it,” Nannar said. “Now you must wait and let it grow. It’s started to sprout under the dirt and when it’s ready, the plant will poke through the ground and you’ll see it grow into a beautiful tree. We’ll eat peaches from that tree one day,” she said.

“But I want to check on it now and make sure,” a stubborn Harry replied.

“OK, but if you disturb the seed, it’ll stop growing,” the wise Nannar said. “You have to trust the seed is doing what it needs to even if you can’t see the progress.”

“I want to dig it up,” Harry said.

“OK,” replied Nannar. They went into the back yard and she supervised as a determined Harry carefully dug up the seed to discover it had indeed sprouted.

“Look! It’s growing!” Harry said.

“It was,” his grandmother countered. “Now it has stopped growing,” she said.

“I’ll just put it back and it’ll be fine,” Harry said.

“You can put it back in the ground, but it’s too late for this seed to grow,” Nannar said. “When you plant a seed, you must be patient, wait and trust the seed is doing what it needs to even if you can’t see it.”

“It’ll be fine,” Harry said as he replanted the delicate sprout. “We’ll have a peach tree soon!”

For weeks afterwards, Harry would visit Nannar and run to the back yard to check on the progress of his peach tree. He’d water the spot if it looked dry.

Nannar would observe this ritual with a smile and say, “You have to trust the process Harry. You can’t dig up the seed and expect to grow a tree.”

Of course Nannar was right, and the seed never grew.

Harry told me that for years later, he would be sitting with his grandmother in the kitchen and she’d motion out the window into the back yard and say, “That’s where your tree would have been if you’d given the seed time to grow. That tree could have produced thousands of peaches by now and hundreds of new trees could have come from that single seed. When you plant something, Harry, you have to nurture it, be patient and trust in the natural process.”

WOW. Using a simple example from nature, Nannar beautifully explained a powerful life lesson. I love this story.

I’ve often wondered how many times in my own life I’ve planted a “seed” only to have been impatient with the process and “dug it up” before it had time to grow properly? I’ve done that with relationships, jobs and countless projects over my lifetime. Wish I’d had Nannar to advise me. But thanks to Harry, I do have her wisdom.

What “seed” have you planted lately? Do you know how to nurture it while you practice patience and trust it will grow?

Awake at 4 A.M.

4 A.M. Yep, that’s what the clock showed as I looked at it for the third time this morning. I was awake. Fully awake. The “I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of going back to sleep” kind of awake.

“I can beat this,” I thought as I adjusted my pillow and took a deep breath. My mind was buzzing. Thoughts whirled inside my brain like leaves on the winds of a hurricane.

I gave up around 5:30 A.M. and got up.

What had my mind racing, you wonder?

The idea of living a more joyful life. I don’t mean being super happy, but living from a place of real joy. I’d been thinking about this a lot lately when I found the perfect book to help in my quest. It wasn’t what I expected.

“The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: the Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing” by Marie Kondo isn’t the type of book I usually buy. But it had been recommended by a couple of my “metaphysical” friends who raved about the spiritual transformations possible by “tidying up” as Marie describes.

“I bet,” I thought sarcastically.

Don’t misunderstand. I’m a big fan of a clean, decluttered house. And while I always feel better in an organized space, I had my doubts that this method would greatly enhance my spiritual progress. I was wrong. It works.

I urge you to read this little book to learn the particulars, but the essence of Marie’s message is simple. In your personal environments, only surround yourself with items that “spark joy.”

The premise is brilliant. How could you help but feel grateful, abundant and productive when everywhere you look sparks joy? Not just nice, not just neat, but sparks joy? Wow. Guess that would qualify as life-changing and certainly transformational.

I’ve started the process and it’s nothing short of amazing. I feel lighter, happier and more peaceful. Incredible. We totally renovated our home last year, so I’d already donated or thrown out boxes of “stuff” and the remaining items had been carefully organized. This method goes even further. And now the bar has really been raised.

When considering a purchase of new clothes or household items, I take the time to ask myself, “does this spark joy?” If possible, I hold the item in my hand to see how it feels, or rather, how I feel about the item. It sounds crazy, even to me, but something’s working. I feel more joyful during the day. I’m dancing while I do the laundry. I feel grateful for the job each item has in my home and how it contributes to my life.

I know, it sounds nuts.

I’ve told my clients for years that “your external world reflects your internal world” and I believe it. While I wanted my external world to reflect joy, I never imagined I could have EVERYTHING in my personal environment do that. I’ve always had certain possessions that made me happy, but never a roomful. Thanks to Marie, I now understand how to do that. I even know how to tame the piles of paperwork that plague me. After I finish my tidying project, however, that won’t be an issue. How much more joy could I then experience?

That’s what I was wondering at 4 A.M. this morning.

My Angel Encounter

I’ve always love the striking images of beautiful angels found in Renaissance paintings. The detailed, graceful beings seem to exude love, peace and serenity. Ahhhh...I feel calm every time I see one. Those artistic images, and the angelic figurine that stood atop our Haworth family Christmas tree, were really all I knew about angels. Until I met one.

I became sick during my first pregnancy and delivered my baby girl 12 weeks early by emergency C-section. She weighed only two pounds. Her condition was serious and she struggled for life in the hospital’s neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) as I fought to recover from severe pre-eclampsia and aggressive infection.

When she was less than 48 hours old, I was resting in my hospital room when two stone faced young doctors came in. I’ll never forget the expression on their faces as they glanced at me, but stayed focused on the charts they held.

“Uh, oh. Why were two interns here? Why do they look like that? Why aren’t they looking at me?” I thought. I knew it was bad news, but how bad?

I was told my baby had experienced a "bleed in the head" and that this wasn’t uncommon with preemies born this early. They said everything could be fine. Or not. They explained she could be blind or severely brain damaged. They just didn't know. They mumbled “we’re sorry to disturb you” and hurried out of the room.

I’m not sure what was worse; the shock I felt, or the fear for my baby daughter. Since I’d been admitted, my then husband and family were in and out of my room all the time. But at this second, I was utterly alone and thoroughly terrified.

I began to sob uncontrollably when a lovely lady appeared at my door. She was a pretty brunette about 30ish, dressed in jeans and a top with a beautiful smile. She said she was from Roanoke and she'd seen me in the NICU when she was visiting her own premature baby boy. I'll never forget what happened next.

Never leaving my doorway, she said, "Don't worry, everything will be alright.” She smiled deeply, gazing into my eyes and continued, “Just take things day by day, and when that's too much, go hour by hour. When that seems like too much to bear, just take things minute by minute."

And she was gone.

I immediately felt a deep sense of peace that my baby would be fine. It’s hard to describe the ease that flowed through me when only seconds before, I’d been in a complete state of panic.

My husband returned to my room and after telling him about the visit, I asked him to take me to see our baby. I wanted thank the beautiful mother who had just given me the gift of peace. He quickly found a wheelchair, and off we went.

Guess what? Although I was on the NICU floor no later than 30 minutes after the young mother had seen me, I couldn't find her. None of the nurses knew who I was talking about and there was no baby boy there from Roanoke.

That’s when I knew.

I had been visited by an angel – the real kind. She had visited me to let me know all would be well and to teach me how to keep trusting. Over and over during the two months Stephanie was in the NICU, I found comfort in her words:

“Don’t worry. Everything will be alright. Just take things day by day, and when that's too much, go hour by hour. When that seems like too much to bear, just take things minute by minute."

Everything did turn out alright. Stephanie is now 30 and is a beautiful, loving soul with no physical issues. I still refer to her as my “miracle baby.”

When I’ve told this story over the years, it’s obvious not everyone thinks I saw a “real angel.” No matter. I’m forever grateful for the visit and words that gave me peace, strength and taught me to trust. That’s another miracle as far as I’m concerned.

Celebrating My Baby

My baby girl turns 30 this week. Thirty. I remember my mom telling me that time with your children flies by, but I didn’t believe her. She was right.

As I look at my beautiful, accomplished, loving daughter my heart overflows with gratitude. I’m grateful she chose me as her mother, I’m grateful for the adventures we’ve shared, and I’m forever grateful to be close and watch her as she continually grows and evolves.

We had a rocky start. I had issues with my pregnancy almost from the start. I developed severe pre-eclampsia and was admitted to an unfamiliar hospital an hour and a half away from home and was tended to by doctors I’d never met. My condition was critical and we both almost died. After six nerve racking days, my little Stephanie was born by emergency cesarean section. She weighed only two pounds and was 12 weeks early. My little preemie had an uphill battle to survive. She did more than that. She thrived.

That was my first indication of her spirit. She’s smart. She’s a fighter and a survivor.

Life has given her many challenges that people twice her age have never faced. She’s faced each hurdle, and come through stronger than before.

In the last few years, I’ve noticed something else. She’s becoming softer.

She married a wonderful man and through her marriage, I’ve seen her blossom into a loving wife, attentive hostess and thoughtful friend. All the while, she’s remained my beautiful baby girl.

As in any family relationship, it’s not all giggles and girl talk. Sometimes we “butt heads.” We’re both passionate in our beliefs and interests (although some family members interpret our passion as stubbornness). No matter. Regardless of the issue we’re working through, the underlying love is always there for me.

She’s taught me so much. I first understood unconditional love from holding her as a tiny baby in my arms. I marveled at her determination and spirit as she went through school and college. I admire her dedication to her family and her work as I now see her navigate the world as an adult. I’m looking forward to the day I see her as a new mother. I know she’ll be much better than I was. She’ll be awesome.

The next 30 years will be quite an adventure for our entire family. One thing’s for sure. I know it’ll be a great ride for my baby girl and me.

My Messy Bits

I set my intention to live love. I really do. I want to be fair, loving, supportive and all things good and true. My life just doesn’t always work out that way.

I love to read British blogger Hollie Holden, who also strives to be an example of love as she raises her young children and runs a busy household. In “Hollie Holden’s Notes on Living and Loving” on Facebook, she not only gives her unique perspective on daily life, she does something very brave. She shares the “messy bits.” She shares the days her house is a wreck, describes sticky spills all over the kitchen floor, the days she’s too harsh with herself and even the massive crack in the wall that needs to be fixed. Regular life stuff. But the stuff we seldom post on social media amid our positive quotes and beautiful vacation photos. Recently, she did something radical.

She wrote, “Wouldn't Facebook be more interesting if it were called realbook? ‪ #‎lessphotosofkaleandmountaintopyogaposes ‪#‎morephotosofthemessybits #‎whatlifeactuallylookslike ‪#‎weareallinthistogether”

WOW. She’s gutsy. I love how honest she is when describing the “ups” and “downs” of life. I find it refreshing and helpful. But could I do that? Could I share my messy bits? I’ve shared some, but I’m private and most of my messy bits stay deep under cover.

I decided to give it a go.

In the last month: I broke a tooth and got my first crown, had mild food poisoning, found a six foot black snake in my house (two feet from my face when I was on the floor looking under the couch), lived through an “unexpected appliance death” and had to buy a new washer and dryer, had my 25 year old son recuperating at our house for five days after having four impacted wisdom teeth removed, whined to my sister that I feel stuck and really don’t know what hell I’m doing, forgot to meditate a few days and was mad at myself for needing to wear my “fat jeans.”

There. I’ve said it.

Now I know how the Wizard of Oz felt when Toto pulled back the curtain.

I don’t like it.

I don’t like showing my vulnerable side. It’s not that I want to hide that I’m, um, human…it’s that when life gets crazy, I do my best to see past the messy bits. And that’s what I want to focus on.

I look to see what I have to be grateful for in each situation. I do my best to accept any lessons or new learning opportunities that are presented. I notice what my triggers are so I can move past them. I strive to allow love to guide my reactions. That’s my intent anyway.

OK, that didn’t work out too well with the snake thing. I screamed. A lot. My brave husband did catch the snake and return it unharmed to the woods outside our house. He did that out of love for me. And because he was afraid I was going to have a heart attack.

When I calmed down, guess what I discovered about seeing a snake? According to several spiritual texts, snakes are a symbol of rebirth, new beginnings and healing. Hmmm. Not a bad sign if it hadn’t been real and in my face. Maybe I need to spend a bit more time experiencing the messy bits, to fully understand what wisdom is there for me? Maybe by acknowledging and sitting in the mess, the real treasure of it is revealed. Thanks to people like Hollie, I’m a bit more comfortable exposing my messes.

I‘ve gained new perspectives from each of the little challenges I’ve shared here and for that, I am grateful. Even for the snake. DISCLAIMER: I’m still hard at work on being grateful for the fat jeans.

Here’s to celebrating all of life, every beautiful little messy bit.

How a Shark Taught Me to Control My Thoughts

If you know me, you know I love Discover Channel’s annual SHARK WEEK programming. In honor of these magnificent creatures, I’m offering this excerpt from my book, “How to Choose Love When You Just Want to Slap Somebody” that details my own shark encounter and the lesson I learned from it. Enjoy…

Consider this Buddha quote: “We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.” You are what you think. If you think your day will be a disaster, a disaster it is. If you think your day will be a happy one, you’ll be right again. Industrialist Henry Ford said it this way, “Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t - you’re right.” According to philosopher Soren Kierkegarrd, “Our life always expresses the result of our dominate thoughts.”

So if you think you’re a failure, you will live that truth. If you think you’re a kind person, you’ll demonstrate kindness. Are we doomed by our thoughts? Not at all. Norman Vincent Peale said, “Change your thoughts and you change your world.” Award winning singer songwriter Willie Nelson is quoted as saying, “Once you replace negative thoughts with positive ones, you’ll start having positive results.” Willie gets it. All these people understood the power of the mind to create reality. And they understood everyone has the power to change their reality by changing their thoughts.

I know, I know – you’ve heard about the power of changing your thoughts to change the experience of your life and have probably read books demonstrating to consciously create your life with your thoughts. And you believe some of it. I believe all of it. I’ve seen countless times how the energy of my thoughts not only crafted my life experience, but absolutely affected those around me.

Several years ago I was learning to scuba dive in the Bahamas. On the second day out with my instructor, I was still awestruck by the beauty at the bottom of the ocean. The coral, the spectacular array of sea creatures, and the vastness of the sea - it was all just incredible. And I could see it all because I was breathing under water! It was unbelievable. I remembered my television hero, Jacques Cousteau, and could hear his powerful voice in my head eloquently describing the breathtaking underwater scene that enveloped me in his beautiful French accent.

We were diving near a large coral reef when a brightly colored school of fish silently glided by followed by a trio of six to eight foot reef sharks. I watched with amazement and noted the group was only about ten feet away from me. What? The sharks were only ten feet away from ME! In a flash the theme from JAWS started playing in my head as did each brutal bloody scene from every single shark movie I've ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot. The tempo of the song increased and as I became completely terrified, one shark broke away from the group and began circling me. I could see the shark's dead eyes staring through me and I became even more horrified. Quint’s famous line in JAWS flooded back to me, “You know the thing about a shark, he's got... lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eye.” It’s true.

As the shark got closer and closer I was forced to drop down on my belly between two coral shelves where I was trapped. I was breathing hard and using up oxygen fast when I realized there was at least 50 feet of ocean straight up between me and the boat. The more scared I was, the more aggressive the shark got. I remembered hearing that sharks could sense fear and were drawn to any creature that gave off "victim" vibes. Even in full panic, a small voice inside me realized I have to calm down. I forced myself to breathe deep and slow. I began to repeat "I am safe, I am safe, I am safe" over and over in my mind. As I felt my body start to relax, the shark began to lose interest and as I completely relaxed into the calm, it turned and swam away. The only thing that changed in this scenario was my thought pattern. You think I believe our thoughts matter? You bet I do!

“Who am I?” The answer revealed!

“Who am I?” is a question that comes to my mind often whenever I think about developing a new business service, want to write a blog or even just spread my wings a bit.

I really do wonder.

Who am I to think someone’s interested in what I have to say? Who am I to stand up and teach anything to anybody? Who am I to write a book? Who am I to offer life advice when I don’t have my own life totally together?

My girlfriend and I met for lunch this week and in the midst of telling me about an exciting new venture she’s undertaking, her fear snuck in. She stopped talking for a minute. She shook her head gently side to side and looked straight into my eyes.

“Who do I think I am I to do this?” she said.

“There’s only one response to the question “Who am I?” I said meeting her eyes. “You are a Divine child of God. A child of God can do anything.”

The words just rolled off my tongue.

I have every confidence in my beautiful friend. She’s brilliant, has a huge capacity to see the truth in any situation and most of all, she’s a living example of someone who chooses to live a life of love. Of course she’s not perfect, but she is an inspiration to me and an example of the embodiment of love.

I absolutely believe what I said. Although the words came out of my mouth, they didn’t come from me. The words came through me.

The only true response to the question “Who am I?” is “a Divine child of God.” I know it’s true for my friend.

Now I just have to allow myself to believe it’s true of me too.