Grateful for The Power of Now

There’s a lot of free-floating anxiety around lately. The stock market plummeted 777 points in one day, then rebounded much of that the next. Money is becoming harder to come by for mortgages and other loans. People are moving what’s left of their portfolios to safer investments. It’s hard to navigate gratefully through the rocky shoals of this crisis and the maelstrom surrounding it when your retirement fund looks like it is disappearing faster than the polar ice cap.

But I take comfort in the knowledge that as sure as the market falls it will come back again. It may take years to get to the levels we became accustomed to seeing. Growth in our economy may stagnate further since businesses and banks are closing up shop, and lending requirements are tightening. After a time things will settle down. Retirement accounts may not look quite so comfortable. Things may cost more and be less available. Jobs will return slowly to the market. Our housing will be worth less. Heck, that may not be so bad across the board. Real estate skyrocketed to ridiculous levels that are unaffordable by most. We’ll get through this the way we’ve gotten through other difficult times. Being grateful helps.

I remind myself that I am grateful for the roof over my head, and for the meals on my table, grateful for my friends and relatives who listen to my fears and who share their thoughts, grateful for the women who write with me each day on this blog for they keep me focused on what matters. I'm thankful I can connect with other people and not just the nightly news. I’m most grateful that I can switch off the television and turn to other things. All around me are things of beauty and acts of kindness that give meaning to my life. The golden light of autmum is stunning from my window. It stops me in my tracks several times a day and beckons me to be still for a few moments and breathe. Life is within and without.

Lately I’m also grateful for the lessons of Eckhart Tolle. I don’t read self-help books usually, but his book, The Power of Now, was recommended by a friend. Tolle lays out strategies for finding inner calm and suffusing your life with it. He's great for reducing stress, great for allowing you to become you by shutting out the constant hum of thoughts. Staying present in the now and not slipping into the past or the future, definitely is a good idea at any time, and is even more of a challenge for me right now when birth and death hover on the horizon. Thank you Eckhart Tolle. You’ve managed to help me find restful sleep many nights, managed to help me to shift my focus to what matters. Read this book! You will be amazed at the simple and pure lessons it teaches and I bet that like me, you too will be grateful for his wisdom.

Chaos Theory. by Patresa Hartman

Today, while dressing for the treadmill at the gym, I heard a newscastor on CNN say that the economy discussions and the Presidential debates will yield consequences for "every man, woman, and child on the planet."

That's a pretty big deal. That's an umbrella of a deal, a mushroom cloud of a deal.

Everything feels big big big in this global, political climate. The newspaper is enormous and should weigh 1000 pounds with the weight of the stories it tells. TV news broadcasts life-size through a pixilated screen. I don't think my eyes or my brain are spacious enough to handle all of this giganticness; I watch with only one eye open. My skeletal frame is not designed for world weights.

And so I feel it is no coincidence that I have been noticing butterflies everywhere.

It is September, and the year's last generation of monarchs are migrating south. The last of spring and summer, this population is tasked with the trek to warmer weather to mate and lay more eggs. Preparing for their journies, they flutter across roads, spiral through parking lots, bob zigzag in the backyard. And they are beautiful.

I have developed a new habit of thanking every butterfly I see. I thank winged lovelies for all they add to the world. By this, I refer only peripherally to the butterfly effect in chaos theory. And I refer only marginally to the idea of metamorphosis and breaking free from tightly wound cocoons. These are charming details about the butterfly, but what I find most intriguing is that it lasts in butterfly form for as little as fourteen days. This intricately painted winged insect -- such marked grace, peace, and beauty -- occupies only the tiniest of space in the physical and chronological world. (If I had more space, I would suggest our human world is no larger when you boil it down to proportions.)

How can this small creature carry such large significance? While the rest of the world talks bailouts and international economy -- while two men debate for the role of next world leader -- why do I concern myself with insects in the driveway?

It is no trivial concern to be grateful for butterflies in September. They bring me focus -- a reminder to zoom lens into tiny glimpses of loveliness in a world so weighted by conflict.