“In the silence of the morning

I am alive to the new day’s light,

alert to the early stirrings of the wind

and the first sounds of the creatures.

In the silence of my heart

I hear the yearnings that are in me and the fears,

the hopes that rise from within

and the doubts that trouble my soul.

In the beginnings of this day, O God,

before the night’s stillness is lost to the day’s busyness,

open to me the treasure of my inner being

that in the midst of this day’s busyness I may draw on wisdom.

Assure me again of my origins in you,

assure me again that my true depths are of you.”

-from A Celtic Psalter, by J. Philip Newell

“From dust you came, and to dust you shall return.”

Every year for more than a decade now, I have gone to church on Ash Wednesday to have someone say those words to me as they rub ashes on my forehead.  Every year I anticipate what it might feel like to have someone utter, with no apology or explanation, those haunting words to me.  And despite my anticipation, the moment itself is always a little startling.  It seems appropriate that I leave with ashes smeared on my forehead, taking with me a vivid if strange reminder of what I have just heard spoken.

Ash Wednesday service is where we begin our yearly journey into the Passion narrative.  We know that the story culminates with Easter, a grand celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus.  But first Lent.  “Like Christ, who spent 40 days in the wilderness praying and fasting before beginning his ministry, we spend the 40 days before Easter considering our lives and our relationship with the world around us” (from 2010 Lenten Meditiations).

It seems appropriate that Daniel M. posted a blog last week dealing with the frustration of our finite nature (Falling Whistles).  We cannot help everyone.  We are overwhelmed by our own limitations.  This is where we begin in our Lenten journey.  And then we say we are sorry for what we have done and what we have left undone.  After that we lift our heads and we say to God, but more to remind ourselves, “You hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent…”

Then we begin our 40 days of examination, and by the end we are walking with Jesus through his sufferings and remembering Christ’s compassion for the suffering.  And by the time we get to Easter … but that’s getting ahead of ourselves.  We’ll talk about that in 40 days.

Last week’s sermon at our church began with a Winston Churchill quote:  “We shape our buildings; thereafter they shape us.”  It’s a great quote, and I’ve been thinking that this doesn’t just apply to buildings.  For instance, we shape (choose) our food; then it shapes us.  We shape our days; then they shape us.  The long and short of it is, we make our choices, and then they make us.

Our choices not only reflect who we are, they actually impact who we become in the future.

What brought this to mind is the realization that my current work has pushed me toward a prayer life.  I’ve always wanted more of a prayer life, and more of a prayerful posture toward life.  And suddenly I realize that I pray more than I used to.   Not because I consciously made a decision to really develop a prayer life right now, but because the nature of my work drives me to prayer.

I made a vocational choice toward what felt like both a calling and a longing, and that choice has begun to form me in ways I hadn’t expected.  I knew I wanted to develop and use some of my best and deepest gifts in a more intentional way.  What I did not know was that in doing so, I would be pushed toward fulfilling another longing — a longing for a more prayerful approach to my life.  It was a wonderful realization.

What are some of the choices before you right now?  How do they reflect who you are?  And how might they impact who you become tomorrow?

Self-care is a topic that often surfaces quickly in a therapy session.  And quite often, any suggestion toward tending to one’s own needs is quickly met with the assumption that self-care is selfish.  Many a client says, “But isn’t that selfish?”  or something like, “I don’t want to be a self-centered person.  My sister (or brother, or parent, or friend…) is very self-centered and I don’t want to be like that. ”

So I’ve started using the image of a bicycle wheel as a metaphor for one’s life.  A person who is centered occupies the core of their own life — the center of the wheel, where all the spokes meet.  A person who is self-centered lives out on the spokes and leaves the center empty.  They constantly need other people to fill their center.

The person at the center of their own wheel has something to give — an energy that flows out along the spokes and into the lives of other people.  The person living out on the spokes of their own life has trouble giving to others because the energy has to come from the center — and they are not present there.

The centered person assumes responsibility for their own basic needs, that life at the very center of their being.  They practice basic self-care.   They may not (in fact probably won’t) get all their needs met every day, but their life has an overall pattern of taking responsibility for themselves — paying their bills, getting physical nourishment, tending to their own spiritual life, seeking out and investing in healthy relationships, to name a few.   So when another person does meet a need for them (buys them lunch, offers a listening ear, prays with or for them, etc.) they can see it as the gift that it is.  There is a gratefulness for the other person and an awareness (and acceptance) of the gift.

On the contrary, someone who does not assume responsibility for their own needs must constantly ask other people to do so.  They are often demanding, asking everyone else to focus on them because they have not properly focused on their own center.  When someone else meets a need for them, they are only breaking even.  There is a lack of gratefulness because of the assumption that others will meet their basic needs.  Moreover, they have a hard time giving to others because all of their energy is toward getting others to do the work they have neglected in their own life.

Sure, there are people who in the name of self-care expect everyone else to bend to their plans.  But that is in fact the opposite of centered.  The centered person can make their own decisions and let others make  theirs.  The centered person doesn’t need everyone else to work around their needs and wants, because they have already established a life pattern that nurtures their center.  They don’t need someone else to do the work they are already doing.

A few questions to ask yourself today, this week, this month, this year:   Am I taking responsibility for my own basic needs, or am I expecting others to meet them?  Am I able to give from my center, or is it constantly empty?  Are there daily or weekly (or monthly or yearly) things I can do to live at, and nurture, the very core of my being?  Daily time to eat meals and exercise and get adequate sleep?  Built-in rejuvenation time?  Time for relationships that are life giving for me?

You may need to say no to a few things you usually say yes to.  But a little self-care can go a long ways.  All the way out from the center and into the lives of the people around you.