Bad things happen.

Is it so that in all things, there is a purpose?

I would guess that a sage of the very highest level of sagery will see purpose in every act of man.  For the rest of us, there are things that will remain irredeemable.

When we are in that place of despair in the aftermath of unthinkable acts, without answers, as there is no sense to senselessness, we have something more than hope.  We have opportunity.  Always.  Even when we cannot imagine how there could be.  It may take courage to find that light within and let it guide us.  I promise you, it is there and it will.

Lately I’ve been getting my eye care at a school of optometry.  Student clinicians having their first stab at patients man the clinic, ever alert to anything that could be going wonky with the eyes.

I do have something wonky with my left eye, I knew it when I first came there, having had that wonky thing since birth.  Something about how an artery curves instead of going straight into the retina.  It was a real hit with them, and as they saw potential for further wonkiness, they insisted a battery of pictures of the back wall of my eye be taken to “establish a baseline.”  In case that artery had decided to curve in an as yet unknown direction the next time they take a look, they’d have something to compare it with.  My baseline.

Since my eyes have been given their baseline, a new experience for both of us, I’ve noticed folks are fond of establishing baselines in other care-giving situations.  Again, as a way to gauge if things are swerving off course, or maybe crashing.

I like this baseline idea.  I can see how it can be put to good use by applying a bit of creativity.

We could give ourselves a good feelings baseline.  Not to monitor if one day was low compared to our baseline of good feelings and so to recognize it as an ugly, irredeemable day, but to go with the idea that we have one in the first place.  Then–this is the creative part–to do things every day to build up that baseline.  Incrementally, with one small good feeling at a time.

There’s endless options for making good feelings–internal, external, mind-focused, body-focused, others-focused.  Let me get you started:

• Count your blessings, as they arrive.  The blessing of a new day, the blessing of being loved, the blessing of food that nourishes, the blessings in challenges, in laughter, in opportunities.
• Give gifts.  Of time, of caring, of sending good thoughts, of help, of things.
• Hook up with the highest part of your being.  Breathe slowly and fully, connect to the light within, sing, dance, take yourself to a beautiful place on our earth just to be with it for a moment or two or twenty.
• Let good feelings come into you.  Let yourself be loved, appreciated, vulnerable.

The thing that differentiates a good feelings baseline from all other baselines is, first of all, it can  be directly influenced.  When that is done, when it is built up, overall well-being is built up as well.  Because when we feed our hearts and souls in this way, our level of wellness shifts as well.  And that could only be a good thing.

My Jewish friends see this week as the beginning of a new year.  I am on the outside of the celebrations, and since I don’t really know what’s going on, I’ve made my own completely unorthodox, and unblessed version And as a new year beginning now is not a part of my heritage, I feel free to take liberties with its significance.  I make a choice to see it as less of a shared event and more of a time to take a breath, to be with what the passing year has brought.

To say it another way, rather than celebrating the out with the old and in with the new of January First, I love the thought of a year beginning with the harvest, with gathering all the goodness of the passing year and using that richness to launch forward into what is to come.

I look as well at what I choose to leave behind.  Enmities in all their forms, unforgiveness, regrets, losses, fears.  In doing this, I see them for what they are–burdens that do not serve.

I’m remembering when Steve Jobs left Apple, started a new company and called it Next.  Was it arrogance or bold expectation?  I’m guessing people in silicon valley are still scratching their heads over that.  As things turned out, “Next” took Jobs right back to Apple.

And the moral of this story could be: When you are considering what comes next,

• In the end, making a choice to go in a hopelessly foolish direction will not be the cause of your downfall.  Rather, it will offer you chances to grow that you would have missed out on if you hadn’t.
• Believing in yourself is not only a very powerful thing, it is your guiding light.
• The best time to leave is when everything that seemed unresolvable has been resolved and you can see yourself staying.

With wishes that your next is rich with everything you hoped it would be in unexpected and most wonderful ways– Maureen

I remember someone once saying that 90% of getting anything accomplished is in just showing up.  Whoever you are, I’d like to thank you for that critical piece of information.  Because people who’ve done great things rarely start out expecting to be so fabulously successful.  What got them to great things was doing their 90% and just going from there.

I share with you three treasured stories which fit my unabashedly liberal soul.  They are useful to remind myself why I will do my 90%:

Rosa Parks, years after her decision to take a seat on the bus lit up the South and began the movement to end the injustice suffered by souls too numerous to count, said once in an interview that she wasn’t looking to start anything, she was just tired and wanted to sit down.

Joan Baez began performing on campus steps because she wanted attention, with no expectation her voice would carry her so far.  Or that the ballads she chose because they suited her voice would set her up for the freedom songs that would become her trademark.

Pete Seeger retreated to schools and sang songs for children when the Weavers were black balled and couldn’t find a venue that would book them.  That would be the Pete Seeger who wrote “Where Have All The Flowers Gone”, taught us This Land Is Your Land,” “Kumbaya,” “We Shall Overcome,” and in his retirement years organized the effort to save the Hudson when it had become more of a cesspool than a river.

I’d be pleased if you’d like to borrow them.  What would please me more would be you finding your own treasures to spark you when showing up feels like it couldn’t possibly be enough.