What are we proposing?

"Humility is the principal thing that must be learnt in the path of training the ego. It is the constant effort of effacing the ego that prepares man for the greater journey. This principle of humility can be practiced by forgetting one's personality in every thought and action and in every dealing with another. No doubt it is difficult and may not seem very practicable in everyday life, though in the end it will prove to be the successful way, not only in one's spiritual life but in one's everyday affairs. The general tendency is to bring one's personality forward, which builds a wall between two souls whose destiny and happiness lies in unity. In business, in profession, in all aspects of life it is necessary that one should unite with the other in this unity, in which the purpose of life is fulfilled."

This quote is from the Sufi teacher, Pir O Murshid Hazrat Inayat Khan (1882-1926), one of my most essential guideposts for what it is to live a human and divine life. It is taken from a daily email I receive, one that I always look forward to. Some days I nod my head sagely at what arrives, agreeing, "Yes, yes." Other days he says things that have never sunk to even the top of my awareness; and still other days, I am in a state of grateful weeping for his guidance, as I note the walls around my heart, the squint around my eyes, the survival fear in my thoughts and even my musculature. Murshid gives me the choice to tune to the real life or to the appearance of things. When I am caught in the appearances only, I suffer even without knowing it. My heart, lost to me, is of little use in sweetening my life. When I am looking in the direction of a caring, compassionate heart, I know that most of the things I spend my time with and worry about do not really matter so much. Even when my ego is pricked by what I read, there is always a place in me that is eternally grateful.

So, I have been writing about my book proposal, under the belief that staying with my own real experience is somehow of use to the transformation of the planet. Having been brought up to care for others at one's own expense, this is a very radical assumption. Had I not heard it from countless spiritual healers, I might brush it aside. But some days I know it to be true. I feel it within. I know that I am as microcosmic as any living being, and that the more room I make for the largeness of Being within me, the more I can reflect the reality in others; maybe, in you.

The book proposal is nearly done. Now I have both an editor and an agent waiting to look at it--had I mentioned the agent? One would think I'd be whooping and celebrating, but mostly I have been working. Marathon bouts at the computer, learning to do things I once abhored and disparaged. I mean, I teach writing without outlines, etc., and here I am, making headings and following them with statistics, information; reading a good book on book proposals (Elizabeth Lyon, Nonfiction Book Proposals Anybody Can Write)--which only began to make sense to me after I'd taken an in-person class on book proposals, taught by food writer Dianne Jacob--and being the great student! Underlining the essence and particulars of what Lyon says will work, and following that, rigorously. "This is my Ph.D. thesis!" I announced to my husband Ralph one night, as I set the table for supper (he had cooked it, not for the first night in a row).

But over time--what seems like much time--I discover that although I'll be really glad to be finished with the project and mail it off (my intention, this being Wednesday, is to do it by Friday), I have learned much more than I expected I would. I have learned that I can be disciplined, I can do what I began not wanting to do. I can sustain it, I can even find parts I enjoy; and perhaps above all, I can enjoy the very drive to do it, to stay with it. I can enjoy the development of new capacities in myself. And, somewhere, I trust that these capacities are not limited to the writing of a book proposal. That this much willingness, dedication, research (instantaneously--the Internet has made this kind of thing amazingly easy), and advancement on the learning curve ("Oh, okay, this section needs an opening, a body, a conclusion, I can do that") could not be limited only to the writing of this proposal. If I have it to use, then I have it available for other uses, perhaps more humanly significant uses. I recall the Sufi story, "Fatima the Tent Maker," one of my favorites. I will tell it to you sometime.

So, I have synopses of every chapter, both written and unwritten; a workable trajectory of where all 3 volumes (yes, 3!) are going (so much for my outline rejection); an "About the Author" section that makes me look spectacular, and it's actually all true (though as I wrote to a friend recently, it's not real to have all your life in a major musical key; the minor keys account for a lot of soul stuff); a Book Promotion section that began as a "God, what do I do about this?" and ended up as 13 pages (yes, I go for complete) of very specific, varied, and impressive existing accomplishments and connections, upon which my projections of how I will promote my wonderful book, The Blessings Ledger, in the future have feet to stand.

Maybe later I'll post the actual "About the Author" and "Promotional Plan."

Or maybe I'll be really kind to myself, take a breath, and write about how the tree outside my window is just beginning to lose its leaves, and this year I will remember that it is slow to gain them back--not until around May will it join its companions in the back yard, full and sashaying with leaves--and I will not despair when it is the skeletal shape long past when I think it should be.

Poetry, yes, comes easy in some ways. All you have to do is look out the window, look up at the sky, look at your cat, your child, your friend, your husband's handsome, craggy face on a day when your heart is open. Poetry comes in the door. Book proposals, on the other hand, seemingly so much more common a way to be and think, come harder. They are the effort, the muscle of thought, of wanting, of planning, of defending, yes: "I am who I say I am, I can do this, I am worth this..."

Only by doing the inner work to recognize that this is a social and economic, perhaps literary function, and not a personal statement of worth, is it possible to dive into the challenge and discover riches there. If it were a matter of am I worthy? such shiverings of doubt would ensue. And they have. But perhaps being willing to move in the direction of what I would once, not that long ago, have turned my back on contemptuously, has helped me understand what the later books of The Blessings Ledger are actually all about, and what even the first volume hints at: We are so much more than we have told ourselves, based on what we have been told ("told" includes without words). We are the inheritors of everything the divine has and is, and as we move toward our deepest yearnings, and do the things that come easy, and the things that come hard in service of what we most love, we inherit more capacity, space, love, blessings, abundance, joy, beauty, harmony, and beyond, and beyond, and beyond. I began the book seeking a way to live in the world of money and inner healing, having no financial inheritance after my parents passed on. And over a great many years, with many twists and turns along the way, the truest thing I discovered is that I have an inheritance from a divine source that has no limiting conditions, and no end. Only, that it is for me to open to it; to efface the cervix of my defenses, and be willing to let in the illumination of how the divine wants to live and express through me.

So, there are other kinds of proposals one might write. A proposal for self-acceptance, knowing what the Self really is. A proposal for peace of mind. A proposal for seeing the best in oneself and others. A proposal to live in the moment. A proposal to accept gaining and losing leaves, and yet always knowing one's binding to the Tree.

Thank you for reading this. I feel more in tune, having made room to say it, run-on as it is. (Blogs let you do this; as a perfectionist writer/editor, I would never let such a thing go out in print.) I hope it has helped tune you, in your way, as well.