Introduction to 100 Days of Giving...An Exercise in Hope

Introduction

I always believed that I would be the best person to win the lottery. Not just the ten million dollar lottery - the really big one - sixty million, one hundred million or so. And not for the obvious reasons - although paying off all of my bills would feel pretty good. No, I am the best person to win the lottery, the really big one, because I love to give. I was born to give. My fantasies about winning the lottery are the car payments I would make for my family, the food I would buy to fill the food shelf, the foundation I would create and head to provide funding for micro-lending and sustainable industry and agriculture projects, the schools I would build in Africa, the budding artists I would support through their starving days, the community theatre I would patronize... the list goes on and on.

Interspersed in those fantasies are the visions of helping my husband fulfill his dream of spending an entire winter on the ice fishing, my children becoming world humanitarians and every once in a while - the thought of me walking on the beach in Hawaii comes through just to ground me. I am ninety-five percent altruistic and the rest is selfish. I am accustomed to writing off the guilt about being selfish by reminding myself that I have to give to myself in order for me to have anything to give to others. And so I ended up here - in this new giving experience. And an exercise that was designed to help me get out of a dark slump has challenged me in ways I never thought possible and has given me more than I dreamed. I would get from winning the lottery - the really big one.

I was born with the life mission “To Serve, Create, and Bring Joy”. You may not believe in life missions but I do. Every time I take the opportunity to check in with what I am about, in answer to why I am here, this mission statement comes pouring out, “To Serve, Create, and Bring Joy”. It does not matter whether I do the visioning exercise in a facilitated group, individually while meditating, in a business meeting, or while showering (my best thinking time) - it is always the same, “To Serve, Create, and Bring Joy”. I hear that mission in words, in song, in male and female voices, I see the words, I taste the words and understand the words down to my core. When I choose not to pay attention to those words and stray from my mission with that deep understanding, my heart hurts.

When my heart hurts, it really hurts. Not in a way like I am having a heart attack, but with a heavy, pain soaked, hard to breath, unyielding, weighty, and formidable pressure that takes my breath away slowly. It is a distinctive pain that appears whenever my core purpose is challenged or ignored. When my heart begins to hurt, I can usually shake it off pretty quickly by adding movement to my life - breathing, running, writing, finishing a project that has been bugging me, by doing whatever it was that had me stuck and the pain passes, the pain simply sneaks away. But this time it was different. This time it just wouldn't go away. This time the heavy darkness that surrounds my heart when it hurts spilled out into my body and seeped into my very being. My pores, blood vessels, and brain were filled with this heavy darkness which obscured my every moment.

In part I owe this pain to Dr. Phil. Dr. Phil McGraw is a television psychologist who “gets real” with people. He lays it on out the line and asks questions like, “How’s that working for ya?”. I am a big Dr. Phil fan. I often thought that I would make a terrible psychologist because I would be way too directive and just lay my opinions out on the table, instead of employing subtlety and metaphors into my craft. And so, I am not a psychologist, but I think if I had become one, I would be like Dr. Phil.

Several years ago Dr. Phil was waging a war on fat. I love his fat shows and last year taped his show every Monday so I could follow the thirteen fat people that he was helping with lifestyle changes. I loved watching the concepts of “no fail environments” and “dealing with toxic relationships” playing out right in front of me with real people that I could relate to - or kind of relate to. Although I have become rather complacent with my life since moving from Boulder, Colorado to the Midwest and have gained a significant amount of weight - I was still not as fat at the people on the fat shows.

Our move from Boulder is one that my husband and I revisit many times in a year. We do not revisit it in regret but to remind ourselves about how we make decisions when we are following our mission, following our right livelihood.  To remind ourselves that we have made decisions that on the outside seem daunting but within ourselves felt like the only sane, clear choice. When we talk about the decision to move we talk about that stream of energy that swept us up and everything in the universe streamed in the direction of the Midwest making it impossible not to get on that wave of movement and ride it home, ride it to our next adventure, follow it to our purpose. While this may sound rather metaphysical (and probably is), it is also very physical. Thinking back on it I visualize doors banging open to ensure that we were going in the right direction. Every time a barrier or challenge to the move came up - doors banged open from hallways previously unnoticed and we were swept though those doors into the light, toward our purpose - toward what we were supposed to do.

I mention this wave of purpose, or the energy that drives me when I am in line with my core mission because when I stray from my purpose for an extended period of time it feels like this wave of energy is pushing against me - fighting me, crushing me. I feel like my feet are stuck in the mud of a stream bed while the white water waves crash over me and squeezing the breath right out of my body. So how does Dr. Phil fit in this stream bed?

Well, in February, for some unknown reason both my husband and caught a small clip of the Dr. Phil fat show. I still can not explain why we were both at home at that moment, because we would both normally be at work and I would be taping the show. But here we were watching it. During the show Dr. Phil introduced his “Booty Camp” for people who wanted to lose about twenty-five pounds and unveiled his new book that outlined how we could do just that. Stan and I jumped at the opportunity. I went right out and bought the book and on the following Sunday we began the “Dr. Phil Plan”. We loved it, we loved having a common family goal and we loved the results we got. The lifestyle changes we made were easy for us because they moved us more in line with the lifestyle we had led for a long time prior to moving here. Three months later we had both lost over twenty-five pounds each, were exercising regularly, doing yoga and had dropped eight sizes between both of us.

Although I was feeling physically better than I have in years, I was feeling a growing sense of unease. I felt raw and vulnerable, no longer protected by my fat, no longer able to use my weight or lack of physical well-being as an excuse. The darkness crept in. The suffocation of energy pressed against me and clogged my throat. And, the assault of the non-profit industry by the political leaders of the state in which I live intensified.

Each morning I woke up in darkness, unable to breath, reluctant to face the day, unwilling to endure yet another assault to my psyche. When it got so bad, I just stayed in bed. After several days I realized that I needed to do something, I had to figure out a reason to get up and out of bed, I had to get back in touch with my core mission - “To Serve, Create and Bring Joy”. But how could I do this when I felt empty, dark and filled with scarcity?

I appealed to the universe to help me find an answer to my angst. Although I would like to say that the answer came to me like a lightening bolt, it more settled in like an awakening of what I needed to do. A light shined in the dark hallways of my mind and I new what I needed to do. I needed to give. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply give. I asked no questions, I had no rules, I just knew that everyday I needed to wake up, get out of bed, and give.

That was the beginning of this incredible adventure which lasted three months. During this adventure I have given and received more than I ever thought possible. I began journaling about my experiences and got as much from the writing process as the giving.  “Simple Gifts” was birthed.