Peake Productivity - Lessons From Life

The Lessons of Harry Potter

nospam@example.com (Lisa Peake) — Wed, 25 Jul 2007 01:17:00 -0600

"The Lessons of Harry Potter"
As told by Lisa Peake

Laugh if you must, but the latest classic to be added to the bookshelf of history, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, held deeply meaningful lessons for me. At the time of this writing the book has only been published a grand total of four days, therefore I will refrain from giving away any of the essential plot details. What you read now is a glimpse of the proverbs and emotions still swimming in my heart after closing the flame colored hardcover.

Life is precious. I feel it keenly in this moment. Harry Potter is a mythology in which both old and young lives are exposed, risked, and ultimately taken. It is only through the experience of death that we discover how deeply we love life. While Rowling paints memories and precious moments with warm summer days and golden lighting, she captures much more than the picture perfect fantasies of a seventeen year-old. The ups and downs, the triumphs and failures are all there. We see these characters as we see ourselves, and through seeing them, we know our humanity more fully. In moments of extreme danger, courage and truth are revealed.

We cannot have everything we wish for. I have often overheard parents telling their four year-olds, "Life isn’t fair," with great conviction in their tone. Indeed, it is hard to understand life as being "fair" when we have far too little information to comprehend what fair would even taste like. One thing we know: we do not get everything we demand, no matter how deeply we long for it. The stories of Harry and his faithful friends reveal the realities of disappointment. But more importantly, we discover through Harry’s personal journey that the only way out of despair is through.

The process of grief is miraculous and mysterious. Over the past decade of reading these stories I have watched Harry pass through an adolescence riddled with grief, and in that time there have been profound losses in my own life. From small disappointments to dreams wrenched away from my loved ones and myself, these losses have taught me to love my grief as natural and unstoppable. There is something pure and untainted about grief, a swirl of emotions that penetrates everything like the rise and fall of Fawkes’ voice over the lake. I am grateful for grief because it is largely irrepressible, and we would all do well to spend more time in our hearts than heads.

I would like to think that Jo Rowling knew all this and much more. Just as Harry spent much of his youth wishing he could decipher the mind of his great teacher, I too have wondered precisely what Rowling knew that enriched her stories with this unmistakably personal wisdom. In the final pages of the final book, she nourishes us with simple truths:

What is meant to be will be. Whether we like it or not, what is eternal cannot be damaged by any form of magic. Our lives, our stories, our friendships, and most of all, our love continues on beyond the bounds of worldly bodies. Things that we see in our minds, our dreams, and the eyes of our worst enemies, all of these things, live inside of us as real. Take in a breath of fresh air with gratitude. We may not have broomsticks or wands, but here on heavenly earth, we have every opportunity to come of age.

Beauty tips from Audrey Hepburn

nospam@example.com (Lisa Peake) — Mon, 25 Jun 2007 21:53:00 -0600

For attractive lips , speak words of kindness...

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.

For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.

For beautiful hair, let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day.

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone...

People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone.

Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms.

As you grow older,you will discover that you have two hands; one for helping yourself, and the other for helping others.

Change is the only constant

nospam@example.com (Lisa Peake) — Tue, 22 May 2007 14:53:17 -0600

Reposted from Daily Om.

Hope In Hardship
Anything Can Be Overcome

The journey that each human being makes through earthly existence can have hardship as often as it is touched by joy. When we encounter adversity, the stress we feel can erode our optimism, eventually convincing us that the issues we face cannot be overcome. In truth, there is no situation so dire, no challenge so great, and no choice so bewildering that it cannot be overcome. Though we may believe that all avenues have been closed to us or that our most conscientious efforts will come to naught, we are never without feasible options. The best course of action may be veiled in doubt, but it is there. When we are honest with ourselves with regard to this simple fact, we can overcome anything because we will never stop looking for a solution to the challenges before us.

Self-trust coupled with a sturdy plan is the ultimate antidote to adversity’s tendency to inspire disillusionment in the human mind. As difficult as the obstacle plaguing you seems, it is no match for the love of a supportive universe that has been a part of your life since the day of your birth and will be with you forevermore. Try not to be misguided by your fear as this gives rise to the notion that there are problems without solutions. If you believe in your capabilities and dedicate yourself to the creation of some form of resolution, you will be surprised to discover that paths that were once closed to you miraculously open. Even if all you can do is change your perspective to turn an impediment into an opportunity to grow, you will have found the hope that is an inherent element of all hardship.

Remember that your destiny is a product of your own creation. Even when it seems you have nowhere left to turn, there is a solution waiting for you. The only insurmountable obstacles are the ones you create in your own mind—and these can only exert power over you if you let them. Uncertainty will always be a part of your existence, but perseverance and mindfulness will never fail to see you through to the other side of hardship where joy can thrive. Try and remember that no matter what life places at your feet, there is absolutely no situation that cannot be resolved with time, love, and friendship.

Goodbye Sam

nospam@example.com (Lisa Peake) — Fri, 11 May 2007 14:23:23 -0600

I am on my way now to go say a final goodbye to my beloved Sam, the first cat I ever picked out. Really I should say that he chose me. This wobbly little 4 week orange sherbet-colored kitten strode across the counter top of the veterinarian's office in Thousand Oaks. He bee-lined it for my arms, purring so loudly the whole room could hear him.

Sam is now 11 years old and his kidneys are failing. I'm told that's the most common reason older cats pass on. There's some comfort in that, knowing that his body is just doing it's natural thing. I also know some of the recent pet food recall bruhaha has been linked with kidney problems, too. For now, all I can think about is stroking his soft fluffy belly one last time.

Sam you are one big lump of love, and I will always keep you in my heart. I love you, Sam the Regal. Thank you for all the times your curled up to purr with me when I needed it. Thanks for leaping over furniture, hunting mice, and always taking the best spot by the fireplace. You will be missed. I don't know how I will start my mornings without you greeting me at the top of the stairs, looking like the little king that you are. Goodbye for now, I hope we meet again.

Ten Rules for Being Human

nospam@example.com (Lisa Peake) — Mon, 23 Apr 2007 22:10:23 -0600

I stumbled upon these Ten Rules for Being Human by Cherie Carter-Scott and thought they are worth sharing. The bold is my own.

1. You will receive a body. You may like it or hate it, but it's yours to keep for the entire period.

2. You will learn lessons. You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called, "life."

3. There are no mistakes, only lessons. Growth is a process of trial, error, and experimentation. The "failed" experiments are as much a part of the process as the experiments that ultimately "work."

4. Lessons are repeated until they are learned. A lesson will be presented to you in various forms until you have learned it. When you have learned it, you can go on to the next lesson.

5. Learning lessons does not end. There's no part of life that doesn't contain its lessons. If you're alive, that means there are still lessons to be learned.

6. "There" is no better a place than "here." When your "there" has become a "here", you will simply obtain another "there" that will again look better than "here."

7. Other people are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects to you something you love or hate about yourself.

8. What you make of your life is up to you. You have all the tools and resources you need. What you do with them is up to you. The choice is yours.

9. Your answers lie within you. The answers to life's questions lie within you. All you need to do is look, listen, and trust.

10. You will forget all this.

Ships passing in the night, continued...

nospam@example.com (Lisa Peake) — Wed, 31 Jan 2007 15:07:57 -0700

Just a few days after my latest post "In Passing" this came to me from The Universe:

Talk about two ships silently passing in the night...

Even your own path crossing with a complete stranger, on a sidewalk, down the hall, or at Starbucks, on this holiest of adventures, amongst the billions now alive and the zillions who could have been, means so much more than most can even comprehend. Suffice it to say, however, that in such moments, these fellow adventurers are closer to you than a brother or a sister, no matter who they are.

You are the "King" of the world
- The Universe

When the universe starts introducing themes in my life, I pay attention. Daily I select at random a little paper card with a quality on it, like "Abundance", "Peace" or "Understanding". It's a precious way to remind myself to hold a positive focus in my heart throughout the day. I also watch for recurring lessons that appear in other forms. Sometimes a theme eeks in quietly, subtly, but with this recent note from The Universe it's coming in loud and clear. Ships passing in the night: the sacred intimacy of simply being human with my brothers and sisters.

In Passing

nospam@example.com (Lisa Peake) — Sat, 27 Jan 2007 22:23:00 -0700

His name was Dennis. About 55, with mostly white hair, a round face, and dressed down business attire that told me he wanted to be comfortable while he traveled. He sat there in his window seat, and looked up with a “hi” full of sunshine as I settled into the seat next to him.

For the next three hours, we were compadres on this journey across the skies. By the time I’d finished asking him whether he was from Los Angeles or Dallas, I knew by his accent and mannerisms he was LA through and through.

Dennis knew a lot about airplanes. He was a consultant for several major airlines, including the one we were flying on. Once on one of his business trips, he could hear that something was wrong with the right engine of the plane well before the pilot caught the problem on an instrument. The flight attendant was in awe when the information checked out. The plane went in for maintenance on its next landing. As he told me this story, I listened and quietly reflected on how this was probably one of so many times he has been of service. The Light-bearer in me saw the Light-bearer in him.

He was thinking about taking a better paying job in Georgia, where he could have a much bigger house, pay off all his debt, and live in a small town away from the LA traffic and commute. He was torn because it was many miles to move away from his two college-aged kids, a son and daughter.

Looking into his eyes from such a close distance was a striking experience, twofold. It was almost too intimate for our acquaintance of only a few minutes, and at the same time he made me feel incredibly comfortable and safe. He was father-like.

The time passed quickly over conversation hopes, dreams, and turbulence. When we started saying our goodbyes, he said, “I hope you have a great seminar” referring to the event I was traveling to. But then he added quickly, “And you know, I really hope you have a great life too, and a lot of success. I think you will. You’re off to a great start, and I wish you a successful and happy career.”

Easy words to say, but something about the sincerity with which he said it went straight into my heart. He unnerved me. It was the kind of rich, warm, vital human contact that I expect to indulge in at Christmas time, or around the family table. Lately I’ve noticed more of this tremendous intimacy showing up in my life with perfect strangers. There is a recognition of our spiritual connection that takes place. It’s been showing up in my life more and more. Or is it that I am showing up for it? Making myself available to it?

From my experience with personal growth work, I hardly bat an eye when groups of people from diverse backgrounds develop support in short spans of time. But nonetheless, people like Dennis do take me by surprise, and inspire me.

What would it be like if I had been the one to say hello with that much friendliness, welcoming someone not only into the seat next to me, but into my very own life?

We finally deplaned at Dallas Forth Worth, my final destination, but not for Dennis. I looked back over my shoulder to see him coming up the ramp. He smiled; I smiled. As I turned back to head for my baggage claim, a twang of sadness hit my heart. I will never see him again in my life. I gently reminded myself there was that choice point when we could have exchanged contact information if we had wanted to. But really, there was no need or reason to. No business relationship to explore, no grounds for friendship. There really was no need for us to ever speak again, and yet I felt that same old sadness from letting go of a dear friend who came into and went out of my life just a few hours later. Today marks the one-year anniversary of the passing of my beloved nephew James Peake. I am reminded that two Souls in connection have no requirements about how much time they spend together, and what kinds of interactions they share. The Soul connection transcends those worldly concerns.

“Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.”

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Thank you, Dennis, for reminding me of the most fleeting and precious connections in life. Thank you, James, for lessons about love that are much too huge to contain in any physical form, any length of time.

The Stories You Tell Yourself

nospam@example.com (Lisa Peake) — Fri, 05 Jan 2007 06:30:00 -0700

I am not a morning person.

Some people are morning people. Take my dad for instance, up at five A.M. every day singing and chipper as can be. Some people are morning people. But I am not a morning person.

At least, that's been my story.

Once as a teenager my father came tip-toeing into my room to wake me up early in the morning. He gently shook me, and called my name - BAM! The next thing he new he'd been hit in the face and I was still fast asleep. Now that's a funny little story between me and him, and we can laugh about it. But it is a funny little story. It's the kind of thing that sticks with you in your mind, which I suppose is what makes any decent story.

The tradition of storytelling is rooted all throughout my family. My mother is an elementary school teacher who has read and told stories all her life. She's also the keeper of our family history, talking about covered wagons and my great aunt Margaret who was the first woman lawyer in Texas. Then there's my father, who is also a teacher and educator, and at heart a writer and a fisherman. His fishing stories are as big as the fish he pulls up out of the waves of the Ventura shoreline, and just as long. His timeless voice pervades in his imaginative children's novels. Then there is my older brother, the accomplished poet. Poetry, writing and reading his well crafted lines, is undoubtedly one form of storytelling.

Storytelling is an ancient and powerful tradition. The interesting thing about stories is that they can take on a life of their own. Just about anything can be a story if it has staying power, even if it's a private story in one person's mind. Over the past two years I've been reflecting on the power and dangers of telling stories.

You see the trouble with stories is that people change, and sometimes the stories that we tell ourselves stick around. They linger, like a little bit of indigestion after a good meal.

The story I would like to tell you now is about how I have changed over the years, and how I am changing the stories I tell myself.

When I was a little girl growing up in El Centro, California, a small farming community near the Mexican border, I loved animals. I had more than thirty pets at any given time. Pets of all varieties- rabbits, horses, iguanas, finches, dogs, cockatiels. Granted, when I say more than thirty pets, I'll admit that was because I counted every minnow, every tadpole, every bullfrog netted out of a canal. I loved them all equally, I counted them all. Looking back, I realize there was a story I was telling myself even at the age of nine. It seemed to me that animals had it together better than people. They didn't have wars, they didn't pick on each other, and their love was endless. I made up my mind to become either a zoologist or a veterinarian.

When I was 12 years old my family and I moved to Thousand Oaks. Imagine! Living in place called "Thousand Oaks" after growing up in a completely flat, dry, hot desert with 120 degree summers every year. But I digress into the story of how hard it is to live in the desert... When we moved I was transported to the world of malls, makeup, and suburbia. Only a year later, we decided to move to Ojai. I say "we decided" because my family is special in that we listen to each other, even the little ones. So together we chose this small town nestled in a beautiful valley.

I can't quite pinpoint the exact moment, but I think it was some time during my socially-awkward junior high years that my story shifted significantly. My story about how animals had it together better than people was blown apart when I discovered that my absolute favorite animal is the human being. So I turned to psychology. I continued my northbound migration to UC Santa Cruz, where I studied psychology for three years until I graduated.

My time in Santa Cruz was a precious time in my life. I loved being around the constant flow of new ideas and creativity churning out of the University. I was so enamored with every area of psychology, from counseling to cognitive research, to cultural anthropology, that I knew I was going to have a challenge narrowing down my discipline. There was a bigger problem, too. I observed how a lot of the psychology around me was about slicing and dicing the mind, the body, and the emotions. That just didn't cut it for me.

So I followed my heart back to Ojai, right around the time my brother and his wife moved there also. I enrolled at the University of Santa Monica where I am now studying to get a Master's in Spiritual Psychology.

Yes, that's right. Spiritual Psychology. I get one of two reactions when I tell people what I study. It's either "Huh?!" or "Wow!"

To share with you very briefly why I am of the "wow" variety, I can't tell you how refreshing it is to be at a school that teaches that we are all divine beings having a human experience.

We are all divine beings, having a human experience.

To me this statement, so wholly embedded in everything taught at USM, conveys the importance of acknowledging the human heart, which underlies and transcends all other levels. I found what I was looking for in an academic program. This is a school that acknowledges the unspoken part I longed to explore more fully - the heart, the soul, the spirit, whatever you want to call it, it is part of the curriculum!

Just imagine as a counselor-in-training the immense value of remembering that statement while the client sitting across from you is broken down in tears. This simple perspective teaches us to honor the wisdom in each person, while simultaneously brining forth compassion for the suffering that shows up in human life.

There is another principle taught at USM that is extremely dear to my heart. Counselors need to do their own inner work in order to be effective. Part of working with oneself means letting go of stories. Old stories, tired stories, stories which no longer fit our current realities.

Take a moment right now and ask yourself -

What stories am I telling myself about my job?
What stories am I telling myself about my relationships?
What stories am I telling myself about who I am?

Take a moment to reflect on these questions. See if perhaps you intuitively know where your stories show up.

I recently had to give up a story that went something like this: "Other people, the people around me in this amazing spiritually-focused community I live in, other people have incredible access to intuition, remarkable connections with the divine. Not me. Mine is broken."

I swiftly sacrificed that story on the altar of truth when I came to see that the thing I love most in life is tuning in to speak from my heart. This is my dream of dreams: to share with people that which comes from the heart. To be a teacher, a coach and a facilitator. So I gently invite my ego to step aside, and say, now I am speaking from the heart. In this moment of atunement, the real magic shows up in my life.

This morning I come to you with the express purpose of peeling off my story that "I am not a morning person." Even my old story, like an old friend who has hung around my whole life, could not possibly stand up to my heart calling me forward to share myself with you.

It is rarely other people who stop us from living a magnificent life. Sometimes it is us, armed with old stories, who stand in the way. I invite you now to take a small leap of faith by tapping into your heart.

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." - e.e. cummings

(Note: This story was first given as a speech to the Ojai Valley Toastmasters Club.)

Welcome Travelers, Welcome 2007

nospam@example.com (Lisa Peake) — Sat, 30 Dec 2006 19:34:00 -0700

The New Year's season is an interesting time of year. Right now billions of people are reflecting on the past year. Equally many are looking ahead with new hopes and intentions for 2007.

I like observing how people choose to interpret the switch to a new calendar year. Working for a productivity company, I am in a unique position to observe a sudden surge in New Year's resolutions about getting organized, cleaning up one's life, getting "on track" in a systematic way. One of the principles I operate under is "use everything for your upliftment, learning, and growth" and using the event of the New Year to make positive change falls into this category. A more productive 2007 is a very worthy goal. I am also struck by my community as a whole using this season to focus on manifesting dreams and clarifying intentions.

How do you choose to use the New Year? Is it a time of looking back or planning ahead? Or is there in fact something special about this holiday season that brings you more into your heart in the present moment?

For me, this New Year is a time of integrating the past, present and future. I am looking back over the year with gratitude for many profound lessons, relationships, and changes. I can safely say that through my choice to participate as a student at USM I have travelled through some of my most meaningful moments, both dark and light, this year. Before 2006, I had not known the unconditional love, grief, joy, and surrender that I do now. If I had to choose a theme for the whole year, I would say it was the year of Courage.

In the moment I am holed up by the fireside in Ojai starting a new adventure, which is what you are reading now. This holiday season I shared laughter, food, and gifts with my wonderful family. Every time we gather for a holiday I am struck by how funny we are as a group. This Christmas it was playing conkers, eating tangerines, and a celebratory dinner at a favorite local restaurant in honor of one member of the family. It is a hoot to be surrounded by such intelligent, witty, silly souls. I always experience this moment of observing my life from the eyes of an outsider, and in that moment I think "what a strange gift to be part of this merry crew!" The family party has broken up for now and dispersed back to our separate homes. The warmth of human connection lingers with me.

Also present for me right now is a keen awareness of the preciousness of life. I heard the news today that a dear family friend is making his transition into Spirit soon. Have you ever had a cut on your finger, elbow, or knee that reopens each time you move the joint? I'm looking down at just such a cut on my finger and thinking it is my grief reopening. Perhaps there is only ever one feeling of grief, one experience of loss, the illusion of separation, that opens and closes in a natural rhythm. This news reopens that tender place inside of me. The other piece of news I heard today is that a wonderful loving couple I know is well on their way to parenthood. Souls come and go in my spiritual family, and I am amazed by the whole miracle. The greatest life lesson I can share in this moment is that life and death are one and the same. Miraculous. A spiritual transition. An opportunity to celebrate our deep and unending love for one another. This is where I sit in this moment.

Looking ahead to a new year, I feel very optimistic. I have decided not to make any resolutions this year. Instead I have intentions, which are just as sincere and genuine as resolutions would be. The difference is that my intentions mark the quality of experience I wish to bring into my life, beyond the actual behaviors and outer situations I want to see manifest. The concrete outer goals are also very much a part of my life, written down in projects, subprojects, and detailed affirmations. The vision I get when I look ahead to 2007 is a year of Expansion. My work at USM focuses on expanding into new skills, taking risks, and sharing my heart more fully. I am releasing this new site onto the seas of the World Wide Web in the hopes that it will be an opportunity for me to write from the heart, and that it will be a treat for you to read.

Before I close, I ought to say something about "The Journey of the Spiritual Warrior" and what that means to me. This site is meant to be a travel diary of sorts. It will include adventures and challenges that are real for me, but throughout these tales you will find a direction and constancy - the opening of a lotus blossom beneath a radiant sun. I invite you to watch as my journey unfolds; I encourage you to let my story mirror to you new ideas, awareness, and connections. Welcome, fellow Travelers.