Why Journal

Salty Snipppit   November 14, 2020      

   Something is happening across the street as I pass my wide living room window.  I stop in surprise.  Large golden-orange leaves scintillating in the morning sun are fluttering down, scattering with the wind, tumbling off across the grass.   They look like big colorful sparkling snowflakes!   I cannot move on but must sit down and watch this show of miniature fireworks. On my neighbors’ roof there’s a circle of leaves spiraling around as if they’re dancing and laughing together!  I cannot not-smile while watching all this.

   The German Protestant in me whispers desperately “Get back to work!”  But the real and wise me sits facing the window, breathing with a deep smile as I enjoy this final awesome autumn performance.

    Now the air is calm, only a few flutters happening.  The sun cranks up a notch and the low bushes by my window wave back at the sun.  The shadows of the great trees intensify and then fade, lengthen and shorten as the sun plays on this ever-changing scene.

   “Dead falling leaves” are often a metaphor for what we no longer need in our lives, but dead scintillating colorful leaves, dancing away – there’s a different spin!  Treasures!  Not to be tossed thoughtlessly but to be released with awareness and gratitude.

   This real-life metaphor says “Stop!  Say thank you.”  Journaling is one way to do this, to be aware of all experience as gift.  Every one of these forms/moments fed my life, made me bigger, as every leaf fed the tree. I may not have liked them all equally, but they all fed and made me into what I am. The Earth takes them back, making them food for other life. The Sun and Wind leave me free like a sleeping tree, soon to grow more and new and bigger.  The Sun and Wind and Earth continue to shine on us all, with love and joy and peace and beauty.

Buchenwald is Everywhere

Salty Snippet October 2020

I introduce to you Jacques Lusseyran and Jeremy Regard, who have come to live in me through Jacques’ writings.   In his autobiography And There Was Light  (Parabola Books.com), Jacques tells how he was blinded as a child, lived a rich and normal life until the Nazis entered Paris, and in January of 1944 at the age of 19 he was taken to Buchenwald concentration camp because of his work in the Resistance.  He also wrote a collection of essays, Against the Pollution of the I, and it is one of these powerful sharings I’d like to briefly describe for you.

    Jeremy Regard, known in the camp as “Socrates,” was a welder from a mountain village.  A small older man, Jacques heard of him and expected he must be highly intelligent, wise, or saintly, given the awe with which people spoke of him.  When Jacques finally encountered Jeremy, he was astounded to sense that Jeremy wasn’t really a thinker:  he told stories.  Jeremy walked through this barracks of a thousand men living where four hundred would have been crowded, men terrified, furious, confused, desperate, and Jeremy was calm and genuinely present with himself and with you.  He actually exuded joy!  To be near him “brings you back to yourself when you are about to disappear.”

   He was a Christian Scientist but never expounded on ideas.  In fact, Jeremy said many of these men would die from ideas.  Jacques saw this happen, especially those who thought they were in hell.

 Jeremy’s view was so different.  He was not a dreamer.  “The rest of us were dreamers: we dreamed of women, of children, of houses…We weren’t at Buchenwald.  We didn’t want anything to do with Buchenwald.”  …”His eyes were solidly fixed on all our miseries and he did not blink.” Nor did he have the air of a hero. 

   As Jacques tried to see with Jeremy’s eyes, he gradually saw that “Buchenwald was not unique…also that our camp was not in Germany…Buchenwald was in each of us.”  It was anywhere and everywhere when people live with a willingness to succumb to fear and to stop living fully where they are.

   Jeremy found joy in Buchenwald!  To be with him was to feel it inexplicably rise up inside one’s self again. “The joy of being alive in this moment, in the next, each time we became aware of it.  The joy of feeling the lives of others, of some others at least, against us, in the dark of night.” 

   Jacques:  “What I call supernatural in him was the break with habits.. of judgment which make us call any adversity “unhappiness” or “evil.””  Judgments which make us angry, complaining, feeling entitled to something better.  He had chosen to stand in “that which does not depend on any circumstance.”

Jacques ends this sharing by suggesting we all “put memory in quarantine.”  (a poignant turn of expression for us today!)  Images and ideas we hold onto of things that are not present now, judgments of comparison, standing in the past – these pull us out of the joy still possible anywhere.  However, a memory that nourishes, strengthens us to be present here – such as an inspiring person – this type of memory increases our presence now, allows the joy of being alive to arise anywhere.  Just as Buchenwald can arise in us anywhere if we choose the view of being deprived.

                                      -1999, Parabola Books, New York. “Poetry in Buchenwald” is another marvelous essay there of how sharing poetry helped people survive.  His autobiography is magnificent.  He was one of a very small number who survived Buchenwald – blind!  He actually survived because he was blind.  He learned that he received guidance all the time as long as he didn’t cloud his knowings with “anger, fear, or competition”!   -Marti Matthews

Go Where You’re Sent

                 Salty Snippet, August 2021     

  As news of problems all over the world becomes as available to us as our daily bread, perhaps others feel like me that we wish we could augment our influence to “make a better world,” to take away some of the endless unnecessary suffering, improve structures, eliminate greed, leave the world a better place when we walk on.  From the time I was an idealistic teenager, this is what I wanted to do.

  And yet, Life has its own weird ways.  As I stepped forward on my path, I found myself doing things similar to what my mother had done – raising a small family, helping neighbors and relatives as needed, I occasionally held jobs that influenced a few for the better in a larger community.  I’m tempted to feel disappointed in my small accomplishments against a large desire.

   By chance I’ve discovered the life of a Civil War hero named Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain and find him inspiring.  Joshua Chamberlain seemed ordinary but was raised with a fine combination of caring for others, thoughtfulness, and self-discipline in the service of whatever seemed his highest duty. When war called him to serve in the cause(s) of concern in the Civil War, he left his job as college professor and quickly became a leader of a small group of soldiers from his native Maine. Under his leadership of courage, spontaneity, and complete service of their lives, altogether they did extraordinary feats which saved the day at Gettysburg and later left the South with honor and respect in the final surrender at Appomattox.  Actually, the whole picture of what ALL soldiers were giving in this extraordinary and costly war is an inspiration to me.  Chamberlain received the Medal of Honor; some of his men just died a terrible death.  The image I see is of duty wherever it leads one, discipline, courage to do as asked to the utmost.

  I also think of the amazing life of Nelson Mandela.  Twenty-seven (27) of the best years of his life were spent in a small prison, hidden away from the world, suffering much with a few friends.  Mr. Mandela stepped up to the plate and lived those years with the best strengths he could find inside himself.  When this test was finished, he stepped out strong, with enough self-discipline and dedication to duty to lead an entire country.  To CHANGE an entire country’s direction to the better.

   A third image guides me through my life– my grandfather.  He served his local small town in rural western Michigan running the local grocery store, founding a bank, serving on the School Board and the County Welfare Board, teaching adult Sunday school.  The local Republicans (including Gerald Ford) asked him to run for the state Senate during the Great Depression because they wanted someone who would stand up for education.  He agreed, ran, and became a State Senator. I was told that as chair of the Senate Education Committee he saved both Eastern Michigan University and Western Michigan University from being shut down by the Governor because of the depression.  At that time Senators were paid $2 a day and only when in session, so he continued to work in the family store when at home; but his brother who shared the store had begun drinking.  His brother said he would stop drinking if Grandpa left the Senate, and so – Grandpa did this (after 10 years as Senator).  There was no complaint as he returned to being a small-town grocery store owner.  There are many other stories I could tell you of seeing his humility and gladness to serve and help in any way that opened.  My mother told me that he took (free) groceries every week for many years to an old Black man who lived alone somewhere and no one knew he did this but my mother.  All his life, Grandpa kept himself in service to something larger than himself.

   Lastly, I am always awed at the life of Dag Hammarskjold, probably the greatest Secretary General the United Nations has had. Mr. Hammarskjöld suffered a great deal of loneliness in the diplomatic service to which he felt called. But in his diary, Markings, he expressed his commitment uniquely:

I don’t know Who – or what – put the question, I don’t know when it was put.  I don’t even remember answering.  But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone – or Something – and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal.  (Whitsunday, 1961)

    I hold onto the images of these people as I turn back to my own “duties.”  I have an immediate family to nurture forward in their lives.  There are various people who look to me for support, encouragement, some people suffering or lacking resources.  There are organizations I can participate in to help my local community.  Service to a few individuals, a small area, does not seem like it will change the course of history, but this is what My Life assigns me to do.  If I were or will be called to do more, I will hope like Mr. Mandela and Grandpa and Joshua Chamberlain and Dag Hammarskjold to step forward and be as big as asked.  Or else to trust that what I do that appears small is still an important part of a larger movement of the world toward better and kinder and healthier for all.

   In my Quaker meetinghouse I love our very old carpeting:  The pattern is of beautiful octagons of a variety of designs, all touching each other, building a whole.  As I scan it all before me in the silence of worship, I see how we are each individual but are all a part of Something Larger that’s going on.  All we are required to do is to step up to whatever our life brings to us; this is our part in making the whole beautiful.

                      *******

Post Script:  Another life story comes to my mind that inspires me; she is the polar opposite of these above great people – Helen Keller.  You know who I mean, right?  Every American knows her. In the depths of our souls we carry her image of just Being what we are born to be, and sharing what we can.  Living her life heroically, she has affirmed the least among us.

The First Step in Writing Your First Book

Salty Snippet, July 16, 2021     

     What a plush job!  All I had to do was think of subjects to talk about so he could practice his American pronunciation.  His last name was Gustafsson, his sister’s last name was Gustafsdotter, which caused problems when they arrived at immigration to visit here together.  But I cannot remember his first name.  His grammar was perfect, and I learned many amazing facts about Iceland.

   For example, I was intrigued to learn that the actual religion of Iceland, underneath the façade of being Lutheran, was “The Dead” – they believe in the dead, and one in three Icelanders will go to a séance sometime in their life.  He had many intriguing stories on this…

      But he really caught my attention when he said that one in four Icelanders will write a book sometime in their life.  As a would-be writer myself, all kinds of questions jumped forward in my mind.

    “Well.  Who reads all these books?” I began. 

    “Oh, de valls of our houses are lined vid books,” he said.  “De vinters are long;  ve read a lot.”  (Many years later, in a trip to Iceland, I saw this was true!)

    “Well, what kinds of books do people write?”  I continued, questions stumbling over one another.

   “Vell,  whoops, WELL,” he said carefully, “Some people write ‘bout science or nature.  Or history. Or love stories or novels.  Lots of people write der own life stories…”

   Hmm!  Surprising to me.  How many life stories would publishers publish?  I asked him about this – “How do they all get their life stories published, and who wants to read endless life stories?”

   “Oh, if someone cannot find a publisher, dey print it demselves in der basement,” he described.  “And everbody who lives in der valley vill buy it ‘cuz dey vant to know de gossip in it!”

    Now I was really stopped.  Here in the U.S. of A., I had the impression that if you don’t know that your book will be a best seller, attract a big New York publisher, there’s no point in writing it at all.  You must somehow be sure that you’re going to be a success; then you write the book! It is a bit of a conundrum for a beginner.

    Young Mr. Gustafsson had given me a new platform to stand on:  Just write whatever interests me, or whatever I’ve learned in my life and want to share.  It doesn’t have to rock the world.  But if I’ve found it interesting there may be others who will, too.

   I have learned that there is a craft to telling a story in a more (or less) effective way.  As with all crafts, one learns it by doing it, accepting feedback, and noticing how others do the craft.  But the first step is to not worry about final “success.” Writing is, above all, a learning for the writer.  What has interested me most in my life and experience?  If something grabbed me, all I have to do is write it much the way I experienced it, honestly, humbly, completely and sensually, and then others may find it as interesting as I did.

Just go for it, make a stab. We can try to share what we have to share; then let that sharing have its own life to find others who may also be enlivened by it.

Walking in One Place

    Salty Snippet for June 2021    My Pal, The Red Geranium

  My giant red Geranium plant has lived probably longer than most house-gardeners would expect.  Back when I lived in Oak Park Illinois I planted her in the ground along the path to the garage.  That must have been just one summer, as her kind don’t last outdoors through winter. So – six summers ago she attracted my attention and I took her into my life.  As I prepared to move to Indianapolis, it seemed that she leaned towards me whenever I passed. I loved her in her spunky wild beauty and decided to bring her with.  I carefully dug her up from the ground, potted her, and she became part of the menagerie that I schlepped along to Indy.

   Geraniums are not strong physically; their arms and leaves break easily.  She was about a foot high at that point of her life, considered mature, and she made the 200-mile trip alright without much trauma or loss. Now six years later she is a good yard high and wrapped around supports, she’s maybe two feet in diameter.  I’ve fed and watered her, given her the best light available as she continued to grow.  I talk with her, kiss and hug her (largely), and she’s continued to raise my spirits by popping out with bright red blooms. I address her as “Pal.”

   Of late, each morning when I raise the shades and greet her, I’ve noticed increasing numbers of dried dead leaves on her; I pull them off and toss them.  I worry at the increase, but all seems well if there are also new leaves appearing – which there are!  And she still blooms, especially when she’s had plant food.

   Picking off the dead leaves, cutting off the dead flowers, seems healthy so she can focus her energy on the present moment of her life. And I’m surprised to see myself as in a mirror here.  I notice these days how the past seems to fade! Being a sentimental person, I hold tenaciously to memories of people, events, experiences – these are the treasures of my life!  I can’t believe how far behind and fading are memories that were so vivid and carried power for so long.  It’s as if I were walking a path and inevitably getting farther and farther away from the city of Oz. 

   Yet I feel I’m circling around.  I see Oz come up again as I walk along the yellow brick road, as if Oz is also my destination, plus its presence accompanies me. A place, with the same munchkins, to which I come and go and will return.

  But – right now there are things happening to attend to!  New people, unexpected events, always occurring around me. Also, surprising helpers magically appear, and I must pay attention to all.  Many little brown leaves of the past are best dropped by the wayside, experiences that enabled my growth “back then.”  They are now inside the bigger me. I don’t need to carry and feed their physical presence while I pay attention to what feeds my life right now.  My Pal and I – we keep “walking” on, even while we appear to stay in one place. We grow and bloom where we are – right now. 

How to Make Good Choices

Salty Snippet, May 2021    

“Each step leads to the next in our lives.”  -Ambrose Worrall, in The Gift of Healing 

   All my life I’ve had difficulty making decisions.  I consider too many things – how will this affect others? will I be happy with this choice? what if it’s too difficult?  what if what I want isn’t what “God” wants? what will people think?  Maybe I can’t even see how to proceed towards something I want – it looks impossible.  The best book I ever found on this topic, a book that changed my life, was/is called Elegant Choices, Healing Choices, by Marsha Sinetar.

   Here is the line that helped me most:  “As we are able to stay centered on the present, as we focus ourselves in all purity and with full attention on the now moment, we can see that one thing is better than another.”   Using this as a guide, I began changing what I was saying to myself.  Instead of saying “I don’t know what to do,” I would say “I DO know what to do,” and I’d see what arises inside.  I do know what I want to do, what I feel would be the best choice, but there are factors influencing me. 

    Ms. Sinetar has a nice quote from Augustine of Hippo:  “the only difference between the happy and the unhappy is that happy persons love their own good will.  They enjoy doing what is good and what is good for them.”  As Augustine was big on the sinfulness of human nature, I’m not sure from the quote alone what he meant here; it brings up one problem in decision making: trying to impose ideals on ourselves – oughts, shoulds, etc. and calling them the good.  Ms. Sinetar’s position is that “willpower” is something we can choose to use gently, step by step, to increase our freedom in choosing.

   For me, the very notion that it is okay to seek happiness took some learning!  I was raised in a religious atmosphere which taught that suffering is good!  We demonstrate to God that we love him by courageously suffering!  Perhaps this is a kind of Puritan stoicism that says “too much happiness goes with not being serious enough, with self-indulgence.”

   Actually, suffering takes a toll on our bodies and spirits; it does not feed vitality, the impulse Mother Nature puts in us to stay alive and thrive.  Nothing in Nature tells us to choose a dangerous and difficult path for the mere sake of being noble.  Occasionally a life situation calls us to sacrifice but generally we see in Nature that the impulse inside each life is to take care of itself and thrive.

“If we are to be happy, we must first decide what we want to do with our lives, intend to make it happen, and then we must begin to work on our intention,” says Sinetar.  Sometimes we use worries, concerns for others, distracting thoughts, to keep us from seeing and doing what we want!  That is because happiness is not the same as pleasure.  Making the vital choice, going with the deep enthusiasm inside, might require the work of clearing out the garden bed so the dream of our life can grow.

   Choosing momentary pleasure, e.g. feeling good by consuming a substance to feel good, is not a choice that gives long life and ongoing vitality. True happiness is the same as enthusiasm, the Greek word for the breath of the gods inside us.  Enthusiasm gives us the energy to do even difficult acts.

   “We have the power and the responsibility to choose on our own behalf,” says Ms. Sinetar.  This is the love we look for outside ourselves!  Taking care of our life is our own first responsibility, and choosing what gives us vitality and enthusiasm blesses the life force inside us with peaceful long-lasting happiness.

Breaking and Entering in my Own House

April 2021

   I was “irritated” with someone and so decided to do some errands to let this go and get into a better mood.  I went out to Trader Joe’s (always fun) and Staples, had enjoyable interactions, came home.  I pulled up to the garage in the dark, reached for the garage door opener on the visor – it wasn’t there.  Felt all over, turned the inside car lights on, couldn’t find it.  Got out and went to all car doors (in the dark) but from no angle could I find where that darn thing might have fallen. I usually try to keep a flashlight in the car but, of course, not now. I always enter my house through the garage, so now I had to find plan B To get in.  Found my back door housekey in the dark, in my purse, went up to the back door, but -oh no-I’d locked the thin storm door from the inside.  Weather had turned nice, I had pulled the screen open on the top, left the heavy door open for awhile and locked the outside from the inside.  Could not get to the lock through the locked screen door.

Walked around to the front door, trying to be optimistic that this key might open the front door.  In the dark, gave it a try.  No luck.

How to get into my house?  I guessed, must try a window! Nice weather had brought window-opening: which one might be easiest to get into?  I decided on the corner dining room windows -low and often loose.   I clamored through the vines, aware that I saw poison ivy there last fall. Usually people are out on the street jogging, walking dogs etc. But all was dark and quiet now.  This was good and bad:  No one would see me try to get through a window, but I was on my own. 

  I tried the first window: no budge.  Went around the corner: this was probably my last hope!  The window was open far enough to push on the screen and the bottom of the screen pushed in.  But no further; the screen did not want to just gently fall inward for me, no.  It did not want to give at all and this, of course is good news for me, if there were someone else trying to enter my house!  But for me here now, bad news.  Well, I would have to bend the screen, maybe damage it.  I had been carrying my cane with me so I gave that screen a good shove with hand and cane and somehow it fell forward.

 The window was just a little high off the ground for me, short as I am.  I leaned in, pushed the big floor plants out of the way.  Tried to get one 76-year-old leg up over the sill but this was definitely a no go. Leaned in.  The window seemed just a smidgeon tight.  Was I going to have to just fall on my face inside, butt in air, pull myself in?  Looked around, still no one anywhere, either to see or to help.  At this point, independent as I am, yes I would have asked for help. 

   I finally realized what I had to do.  It’s what soldiers do as they charge forward in war – one has to get your energy up for the job – anger is the best.  I turned my problem-solving mind off, and from my  pocket of past skills I pulled my swear words; then mustering together anger and energy and determination and not even knowing how I did it, I just – “did it!”  I have no idea how,  but I got through the window and was kind of stumbling forward on the floor.  

    Actually, I felt pretty calm.  I rearranged the plants and then went to the garage and pulled the car in.

    From there, I went to my computer, emailed the person I’d felt “irritated” with that I did not want to feel angry and argumentative – they could feel free to do X as they chose;  I don’t want to be an angry argumentative person, I do not want to be that kind of person.  I felt at peace and went to bed.

Next day I went to the car and looked around for the missing garage door opener. Where could that darn thing have jumped to?  And lo, there it was, on the visor where it was supposed to be but facing the wrong way!

What to make of this?! It was hysterically funny, and yet – puzzling.  The ending turned a funny experience into a puzzling one.  Kind of like a Zen koan or a parable that leaves something unfinished in your mind.  Something about the irony made it all seem “set up.”  Had some “teacher” set this up for me to learn something here? “Grasshopper, think on this!”

Ultimately this is what I see:  While being angry is not a healthy state to permanently be in, there may be times when only anger will get you through.  There are times when one actually needs to get MORE angry in order to get oneself to do what needs to be done. Or life needs to make you more angry!

I always remember both the feeling of embarrassment and of freedom that I felt when I first let myself “swear.”  My children were little, the work was more than I felt up to, and I just let it out.  It did feel – wonderful!  Nothing quite matches that counter-cultural release.

   As toddlers we learn to speak by listening to the adults around us.  As I grew up, I did hear both my dad and his dad swear.  My mother worked endlessly to get my dad to stop – “Don, don’t say that in front of the girls!” Eventually he did stop swearing – out loud, at least.  But then he’d go huffing and puffing around the house when he was mad and no one knew who he was mad at!  And Grandpa – it seems in my memory that gruff old grandpa never opened his mouth without something foul coming out with whatever he said.  He’d endured a lot of misfortune, and maybe it was part of his French Canadian backwoods character, I don’t know.  But I did know those words when I needed them!

  And I did know that I could get through that window!  I could feel myself on the other side, it would not be impossible, it would just take much more than my ordinary determination.  I stepped into an alter ego, allowed myself to be different, and wow!  What I could do in my different self!  Something in me feels freer now and glad to have felt all my power; I will remember what I am truly able to do – when I want to!

Use Your Connection

Salty Snippet March 2021  

I awaken with a songline, as I often do, and to me this is one way my dreams of the night carry me forward.  Here are the lines;
No you are not

lost and alone in this world, yes you are

Guided each day.  No you are not

lost and alone in this world. Yes you are

Cherished and safe!                                       [copyr. Diccon Lee]

We don’t always feel cherished and safe, guided each day.  What reassures me is my own experience of being a mother, a parent.  I’ve never experienced anything as mysteriously strong as the concern I feel for the offspring of my body.   I know some parents fall short of this but I think even the worst parent wishes good for their offspring while not knowing how to do this, or finding their own needs too strong.  Whatever awesome Force, creative Intelligence, Life Source has brought us into existence must surely be the source of the natural parental instinct to protect and nurture life.

   I can also speak from experience on being guided each day.  The early morning time is surprisingly the best source of new approaches to the challenges I face.  The time of awakening is a special spiritual state, when we need to keep our connection to our Source and be open to newness.

   I’ve been enjoying the poetry of David Whyte; here he speaks my mind in What to remember when awakening:

“What you plan is too small for you to live.”   And later:

“To remember the other world

in this world

is to live in your true inheritance.”

The plans we make in the evening for the following day, we must be ready to scratch should the morning bring us to a different view!  We do the best we can with our rational minds to direct our lives toward what we think we should be doing.  But there often/always seems to be other forces affecting our plans. Are these other forces friends or foe?

It’s important to get ourselves to a place of confidence in the life process itself.  Here’s one negative view held by many today:  We are each captain of a little boat run by a computer motor, each all alone trying to direct our boat forward where we choose, over water, against winds and forces that may stop or hinder us from getting anywhere.  Life is a battle against Fate; Nature is an enemy. Our only tool is our good rational mind and we are quite alone in the universe.

But when our bodies and rational minds are taking sleep, long hours pass, and scientists have discovered (as “simpler” people have always observed) that while we sleep, other parts of our minds are somewhere off doing very interesting activities.  Modern science is still being born in its study of what we are doing during sleep, but if we pay attention, I know from experience we find new insights into our projects.  We find “guidance,” if we will be guided.  During our sleep, some process has taken all the ingredients of yesterday and my whole life, even considered my forward direction, and has revised the plan in a possibly better way.  Maybe even with a vision and knowledge larger than I the little boat captain could see!

   I call it “wisdom” to pay attention to guidance that comes in ways the rational mind cannot understand.  Recently I was helping my grandson study Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar, a story of Fate versus Will.  Over and over advise came to Caesar not to go to the Senate on the Ides of March.  People had dreams that warned against it, Nature was displaying lightening, earthquakes, strange events, psychic people/seers prophesied the danger – and yet he went, and went to his death.  What does it take to warn us, if the Universe itself wanted to help us?  Do we, also refuse guidance in order to stick with our rationally set, egotistically grounded goals?  Of course, Caesar and all of us must die someday, but there is the necessary death and death that seemed avoidable with available precautions.

I say that Yes, we are guided and safe, if we are willing to be guided and safe.  And as regards the guidance that may come to us in the quiet slow dawning of the day, how best to take advantage of this?  Especially for all who must arise and be functioning somewhere with others by a particular time?  Deepak Chopra says that “Waking up with an alarm clock is detrimental…The brain transitions from deep sleep in a series of waves, each one getting closer to being fully awake.”  My daughter, Anne Marie, actually has awakened for years without an alarm clock!  She goes to sleep expecting to awaken as needed and even in times of pressing deadlines has always been able to awaken slowly without an alarm.  Perhaps setting that intention as we fall asleep is a self-hypnosis that sets our mind to do as we intend. 

If any self-discipline is needed here, it is not in keeping our nose to the grindstone, ignoring guidance as it comes, but in going to bed at a regular and appropriate time, slowly, gracefully, doing soothing activities to fall into good sleep.  Then arising slowly, open to the many impressions that come in their own language as we emerge back into this world.  If we sleep with another, maybe we should discuss this and respect the space we each need to honor this natural process.  As David Whyte said eloquently “To remember the other world in this world, is to live in your true inheritance.”