L³: a checkup!
Taking stock of what matters.
Here’s a quick aside right at the start: a fourth L if you wish:
My friend here in Substackistan a couple weeks ago provided a primer on how to pronounce his name. No, NOT the ‘Don’ part you silly! Then I looked up at my name in the lead banner up there and thought, I should get around to doing that at some point too—especially since there are now far more readers here than my original family members, each of whom, I’ve always assumed, knew how my Dad pronounced his last name.
As a teacher and principal, my kids just called me Mr. L. Everything was easiest that way and I was a great Mr. L. I did though, at the start of every school year, spell my name phonetically on the board for them. I spelled it like this: “El.”
Just joking.
“Lawn-seen.” Two syllables with the accent on the first syllable. It’s French. Sometimes I’d hear a slight difference in how my Dad would pronounce it. Sometimes he’d say something close to “Lawn-sane.” With the accent slightly on the second syllable. And some of my cousins say it still slightly different—we don’t discuss who’s more right on the matter even though I’m more right. Regardless, I always answered to Mr. L. Or Kert (but not by my students).
By the way, if you want to know how Don pronounces “Boivin,” you can navigate to his page to find out. And while there, check out why I love his writing. He’s “woven” together quite a number of great themes that resonate with me throughout his posts. Check him out—and you’ll see what I did just there.
Off we go!
It’s been EXACTLY six months now. Half a year! And I made a promise.
It can be this simple…
There are two things that bum me out over the long (and getting longer) course of Holiday seasons nowadays: the first being the incessant bombardment of solicitations for money. I understand the intent behind most solicitations (at least those with a benevolent cause), but still, the pleas for funds grows wearisome esp…
Still Living, Laughing, and Loving—most of the time.
Back in late December, as we prepared for the turn to the new year, and when it’s always all the rage to make resolutions, I wrote that I don’t make resolutions. Technically, anyway. As a spiritual “finder” with multiple practices to nurture mindfulness and an awareness of the wholeness and interconnectedness of all life, all things, of this Universe; as I learn more about how to go deeper within, to find and maybe even touch the truest part of my True Nature; I add, change, or revise some of those practices to help me approach my stated commitment, my WHY, of my life: to live a life of excellence by bringing my best game to each moment. So in a sense, I do resolve at times to make the necessary adjustments that might help me advance along my Journey. In that sense, I make resolutions, but I trust you can see they are not of the New Year’s kind.
This was my mission for the year. As given to me by a random dishtowel taken from our kitchen drawer on which I happened to have paused and read again as if for the first time. As I mentioned in that January post, I took the towel “out of rotation,” and it lay near me on my desk or near my iPad as my more-than-symbolic representation of a better way to live.
I knew this year was going to challenging—given what I’m passionate about and the assault being perpetrated on some of the values and ideals most American’s used to hold dearly in their minds and hearts. I knew we didn’t live in that America right now, but soon, with faith, and the votes of millions of rational, level-headed thinking citizens, we’ll take a giant leap forward to renew and re-energize the American ideals that made our country unique around the world.
And then I knew there were going to be unexpected things that would arise (because they always do) that would cause pain and heartache—suffering, as always, being optional. In my Hospice volunteer service/practice, a practice that began almost a year ago come August, I’ve born witness to the deaths of dozens of Souls—because they are on our Hospice service, their deaths, by definition and requirement, were imminent. But the time of actual death, unless it is planned (and in the state of Washington, it can be planned), is always unknown. This past January, I also began serving a Hospice patient as his one-on-one volunteer in his home—a man I grew quite enamored with; the bonds we were able to form proved deep, mutual, and trusting. He died in early May.
And some of the unexpected things hurt more than others. Some hurt more than one could even expect. Some hurt in ways that take your breath away. Those instances offer the greatest challenge to one’s commitment to any resolution one makes to live a different kind of life—especially when one wants to, dish-towel approved: “Live, Laugh, and Love” even more. So far in these six months since I’ve used those three doctrines as part of my intentional mindfulness practice, my resolution to abide by this resolution has been tested. So, has this dishtowel, and what it represents, made any difference for me?
Answer: Yes. Sort of.
Why?
Live—every moment. CHECK! ✔️
This “living every moment fully” has been an intentional practice for me for quite a while. I’m getting better at it and under the teachings of a mentor I’m following, Michael Singer (he of The Untethered Soul1 fame), I’ve even deepened my practice by following a new standard of being that is bearing fruit. This begs for its own essay at some point, but for now, when I remember and take a deep cleansing breath to bring me back to my center, I say “Here I am, living this life of excellence by bringing my best game to this moment.” That’s the best I can do given in whatever moment comes my way—to bring my best game possible to that moment in order to serve the moment, with reverence, in a manner that is appropriate to the need. Trusting that others will benefit in some way from those actions.
Even the dark moments are lived fully. I’ve had practice with this—and practice makes perfect even as perfection is always unattainable. Living dark moments fully allows for healing—“not” living them fully leaves them to fester.
I have a built-in mechanism that tells me when I’m not living every moment fully and with intention. It’s the same mechanism you have—but we don’t see it as such. It goes by different names, but you’ll get the gist: frustration, anger, impatience, despair, depression…. I’m getting better at recognizing the signals from that mechanism, and course corrections are becoming easier to make.
🖖
Skipping to…
Love—with all your heart. CHECK! ✔️
Rene Descartes, the 16th Century philosopher and mathematician, wrongly surmised, “Cogito, ergo sum.” “I think, therefore I am.” Yep, I, little ol’ me sitting here in 21st Century Lake Stevens Washington, am calling Descartes out! I have the correct Latin tattooed on my wrist:
If you know YOUR Latin, you know this is “Sentio, egro sum.”
“I feel, therefore I am.”
One comes to love by way of feelings and emotions. I would venture to say that one cannot love anything that one doesn’t have feelings for. To love something IS to feel. To feel IS to know you are alive. Therefore, to be alive, you have to Love.
But the towel, my symbolic doctrinal representation, importantly, goes further. It says “…with all your heart.” Ah…that’s a rub.
This year I’m coming to understand it is worthless to love something or someone “half-heartedly.” That’s not love. People and animals can tell the difference. Amirite? Some people hold back on loving fully out of fear they may get hurt at some point.
To love wholeheartedly opens one up to pain and heartbreak (ironic, that!). But that’s what also makes us the most human. Inhuman treatment, actions, or behavior, like war and abuse, are called “inhuman” because inhuman is analogous to a total lack of love or compassion or empathy. “Human,” therefore, includes all of those things. But being the imperfect humans we are, we have each of these to various degrees and in various amounts, unique to us as individuals. And sadly it is true, for some: it is very hard to see that they have any love, to any amount.
Regardless, risk the hurt. It will happen.
Love anyway. Wholeheartedly.
💙
Back to the one I skipped:
Laugh—every day. Can’t check. DANG!
I know why laughter is prescribed my many sages—perhaps you do too. Laughter truly is a balm that lightens the heart and takes us to a different place, a place of happiness, even if it is for the briefest of moments. If laughter can serve to allow one to distance oneself from a pain, wound, or hurt, then we should cultivate it as often as we can.
In this respect, laughter really is medicine. Scientifically, endorphins do get released from laughter—the reason endorphins are euphemistically called “the happy hormones.”
We still try to laugh every day here. But to be honest, with some of the experiences we’ve had in these six months, laughter has been almost impossible. And it’s weird to say that. But I really dug deep into this when we were in the midst of our most painful grief at the death of our dog, and I knew laughter could have been helpful, maybe. But the thing is, I didn’t want to laugh. I knew it would ease some of the pain, but that is not what I wanted. My body didn’t allow it. That would have taken super-human energy at some of those lowest moments—and we simply didn’t have that energy. Most “feeling,” empathic humans, those who resonate with “Sentio, ergo sum,” get this. They’ve (you’ve) lived this too.
In thinking deeply about this, I learned that maybe one shouldn’t laugh when the body is in a place where it simply needs something different. This goes back to living every moment fully. To feel the fullness of the pain of the death of a loved one, one’s body kinda needs to go into a state of depression—this is a natural response, the body’s way of diverting certain energies to the most needed organs in order to simply get to the next day. It’s the grief process. Some say that to be depressed, means the body needs “deep rest.” Being prone to melancholy myself, I understand this. The thing that’s kept me from going fully down that vicious path of chronic and spiraling illness, a path that millions travel every day, is the knowledge I have that things WILL get better, that I do have the skills (just need the desire) to come up for air, and that one way to make that happen will be to laugh, at some point—when the body and heart heart are ready. Laughter is both the means and the test of its veracity—laughter eases our pain, and we know our pain is being eased when we’re laughing. The real deal kind of laughter, by the way. One can fake laughter too—and that is never healing.
This is one of my favorite and even most used Bitmoji’s in my texting arsenal. I realized not long ago I hadn’t been using it much. That’s my bad! Every time I use it, I can feel the difference. Like, every time! But that’s for my friends and family via eConnections.
The best medicine is to laugh, loudly, from the belly, with others. Especially those whom you love. Yeah, that’s the best medicine—free, priceless, and medicare approved. This I know, we checked it against my Dad’s coverage.
Be Here Now
Ram Dass, even though he died in December of 2019, remains one of my teachers. He’s most famous for giving us these three words: Be Here Now!2 There’s more than meets the eye to these three words—to know how to “be here now,” is to touch the face of God (no matter what word you use for that concept: Tao, Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, Krishna, Nature, Source, True Nature, Universe….).
Michael Singer teaches that these three words, to truly “Be Here Now,” with all this entails, encapsulates all of spiritual practice. If your aim is to gain enlightenment, or Samadhi, or holiness, or transcendence, or flow, or a natural drugless high, then practice being here now. Since it IS one of my aims, I’m doing so:
Ram Dass: “Be here now.”
Kert: “Okay, here I am.”
As I wrote above, I say this throughout my day. “Here I am.” When I do, I can be no other place than where I am. And when I know I am here, right here, right now, I know to bring my best game to that moment. Doing that helps me to live my WHY—to live a life of excellence. And when I’m in that space, I know I’m where I need to be when I’m living fully, laughing daily, and loving with all my heart.
Should there be anything more?
Always and Ubuntu,
~ kert
And with Ahimsa!
🙏🏼
PS: Two things: in my signoffs on every post since the post in January of resolutions, I’ve included “Live, Laugh, and Love” as a salutation that has always been linked back to that one post. For the rest of the year, this will continue to be my practice.
And if you are French, please, there is no need to correct my Lenseigne. Let me live my way—which has always been the right way, by the way.
Ram Das. Be Here Now. Harmony Books. October 1971.
Books using these links will take you to Bookshop.org, a nationwide online independent bookseller dedicated to promoting and celebrating books from independent booksellers—not those who name themselves after large rivers and act like the Borg. In other words, resistance isn’t futile! If you buy one of these books using these links, or my affiliate link, I receive a small commission. So, LET’S CELEBRATE BOOKS!!!
What a lovely six month check-in post, Kert! Somebody recently posted a cartoon panel on Substack that I wish I had saved. Guy asks the owl, “why is happiness so elusive?“ The owl response, “because you look for in the future instead of the present.“
Thank you for your very kind mention, and right at the top of your article too! I’m honored. 🙏💚
I think we could start a collection of dish towels. We've had one for years, well-worn and still working, "Keep Calm and Carry On." Although it was a UK slogan designed to prop up morale in WWII, it is still a viable message for the ages. I can't share a picture here for some odd reason but I will post it in notes and a reference to yours that I adore.